FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

It was a cold winter's day when we saw an unfamiliar face walk into the Athenaeum.

She was an Elf, for starters; Andarri, with the usual trademark grey skin, violet eyes, and glowy white hair of the Underground Elves. We didn't normally see her kind out in Varaz'khor. Most of its population were Orcs, with a slightly smaller number of traveling mountain Fauns and the occasional Elven or Human researcher. But even the Elves are from Elysium, the sun-kissed islands thousands of kilometers south of here. This was the first time I saw one of the subterranean Elven variants in the mountains.

Little did any of us know she would be the very catalyst for the story I am about to tell.

When the door opened, a gust of wind followed, covering the threshold and rug with powdery snow. The Andarri slammed the door shut, trying to keep the cold out. Beside me, my wife's ears twitched at the noise. I felt my familiar, a jumping spider, leap into my arms, eyeing the doorway suspiciously.

"Welcome in!" my wife exclaimed, using her hands to speak as she did.

It was so meaningful, the lengths she went to make sure I understood her. Now that we had been together for so long, I could read her lips, but being Hyenafolk, or Sethiran, it was difficult at first. The teeth got in the way. Even so, she knew lipreading wasn't perfect, and together, we learned to speak with our hands. After all, Handspeak was not a language I ever had access to, even if it would've been to my benefit.

The Elf stared at us for a moment; her reaction to my wife was neutral, but when her eyes landed on mine, I watched the grey pigment to her cheeks reduce to an ashen pallor. It was a reaction I expected. No matter what my kind--Phaedrani, or, colloquially, Spiderfolk--did, most mortal creatures, regardless of race, feared us. With our six arms, multiple eyes, articulated fangs, and unusual colors and patterns, our appearances instill the instinctive fear within the numerous arachnophobes of the world.

But just because the reaction was expected does not mean it was one I enjoyed. I always felt my heart sink whenever I saw how people looked at me. I wanted to be loved and respected as a person, but my appearance--something I could not help--was far too upsetting for many people. I was shocked my wife was even interested in me when we first started flirting. Nonetheless, I managed to get most of the locals of Varaz'khor to see me as one of them, and despite the second glances from library patrons, I quickly gained scholarly respect due to my research and expertise. Perhaps this patron would respect me, too.

Warily, the Andarri walked toward the Reference Desk, where I sat beside my wife. My wife didn't normally work up here; she tended to work behind the scenes, sorting boxes full of books and artifacts or helping the other staff shelve things. When she had desk-related tasks, she stayed in the back office, away from the patrons. She preferred to work in solitude and silence.

We had a rush in the morning after a children's storytime, so she moved her work to the front desk to multitask. For a while, we had been busy with patrons, but it had since slowed down, and she didn't leave just in case it became busy again.

While she worked on cataloguing finances with the quill she enchanted to calculate simple equations, I was checking inventory on a separate sheet. But we both looked away from our work to see what our new guest needed.

I grabbed my handy scroll and wrote, What can I help you with?

The enchanted scroll was something I was gifted years ago, when I first traveled to Varaz'khor. My benefactors thought that it would be helpful to have a scroll that only displayed its writing temporarily so I wouldn't waste precious parchment writing notes to people. The enchantment on the parchment read people's eye movements and knew when they had finished reading. Only then would the ink disappear.

The Elf leaned forward to read. Once the ink dissolved, she replied, "I'm a researcher from the Draira Institute here to measure the Magical Signatures of the Aurora and report my findings back to the school. Do you have any old records of previous measurements?"

My wife signed as the woman spoke, translating for me. She was an Elf with clear enunciation, so lipreading her was rather simple, but my wife made things much easier.

The Draira Institute was the most prestigious magical university in all of Terriam. It resided in the Sky Elven, or Andresathi, capitol, Draira, which was considered by most to be the epitome of a utopia. Utopias were apparently picky, for very few ever were accepted to the university, and therefore citizenship in the capitol. However, the Draira Institute was a sponsor of the Athenaeum, so I did see their students. They were not, however, Andarri Elves. I almost wondered if the Draira Institute only allowed fellow Andresathi into its campus-the Andresathi had a gross tendency to be xenophobic-but this seemed to not be the case. This Elf wore the school crest on her cloak, after all.

I decided to stop musing and do my job. Before I could check my records for Auroral research and respond, the Andarri asked, "What are you doing?"

My wife pointed to herself. "Me?"

"Yes. With your hands."

"Oh! She's deaf," my wife explained, putting an arm around me. "I just like to make sure she's up to speed."

"You're her interpreter?" the Elf asked.

My wife shook her head. "I do help her understand conversation, but I'm her wife."

There was a period of silence so loud that even I could hear it.

My wife shifted awkwardly. I could feel her giggle a little nervously, which made the Elf flash a weak smile.

"Her wife," the Elf repeated.

"Yep! That's what I said!" my wife replied, cheerful as ever, though I could see an irritated strain to her teeth.

Her violet eyes darted between us for a moment. "I guess I didn't think someone like her would get married," she said carefully.

Evidently, she didn't speak carefully enough. I felt my wife beside me bark an angry laugh. "Someone like her?" she asked, leaning back in her chair. "Do explain."

I folded my hands on the desk and tilted my head, watching the Elf carefully.

"I guess you must be an...unusual specimen." The Elf rummaged through her belongings and pulled out a parchment. She unrolled it, scanning the page briefly before continuing. "The Institute didn't tell me my contact in Varaz'khor would be Phaedrani."

I wasn't sure how my species would be relevant to research into the Aurora, but I didn't say anything. I watched my familiar run around the desk, clearly equally unimpressed with the patron.

I felt my wife get up beside me, a low rumble indicating her growling. Our eyes met, and she shook her head briefly and signed, "I'm just gonna get those records for her so she can fuck off."

I managed a little laugh. The situation wasn't funny, but my wife was.

My wife wasn't an easily angered entity, but when it came to me, her defensive Hyenafolk instincts often kicked in. It was flattering, especially since I wasn't one to stand up for myself often--though if I witnessed her being insulted, I'd feel just as angry.

You're with the Institute? I asked, trying to draw the attention away from my species and more toward the research at hand. With a spare hand, I gave the Elf a quill to write her response.

She ignored it and spoke aloud instead. "I am. I was recommended to seek further information at this library, as it's the only one and tends to have rare research."

I try to have an expansive catalogue, I replied, but we definitely have a lot on the Aurora. My wife is fetching it for you.

She raised an eyebrow. "The Sethiran is doing your bidding?"

I frowned. No? She's just helping me out.

"Interesting." She rubbed her chin. "This doesn't match any of my research at all."

I didn't answer immediately, unsure of what I could say that wasn't entirely rude. The Elf may have been far out of line, but she was still a customer, and a contact from the Draira Institute, no less. If I angered her, I'd anger the Institute, and I would lose funding.

My wife returned with a few scrolls and journals, plopping them on the desk. "We have reading rooms for you to pour over them and...do whatever. We close at nine."

The Elf reached for the materials, nodding her thanks. My wife turned away, busying herself with the financing duties from earlier, though from the pressure of the quill on parchment, I could tell she was angry. The calculations would likely be etched into the desk at this point.

The Elf must have sensed she did wrong, for once I slid her a reading room key, she disappeared wordlessly. Being insulted for being Phaedrani in a library was hardly an uncommon occurrence, so I put it out of my mind and returned to my cataloguing, writing a few letters for requests to give to the Courier the next day.

"You shouldn't let people treat you like that," my wife signed to me after a while. "You should just kick them out for having the audacity."

"But she's with the Institute!"

"Fuck the Institute, and fuck those haughty little Elves storming onto your property like they own the place, insulting the true owner, and then making off with your work! If she gives any attitude on the way out, I swear to fuck..."

The Elf returned then, handing the materials back over. "Thank you," she said. "This should suffice."

Glad to be of service, I lied, hoping this would be the end of our interactions.

The vibrations on the desk indicated my wife making something between a growl and a chuckle. I didn't blame her.

The Elf paused. "May I ask you something?"

"For the love of Sethira," I saw my wife mutter.

What else can we do for you? I asked, hoping this was an academic query.

"How did you two even...happen?"

My wife and I exchanged looks.

"I think it's time for you to-" my wife began.

I popped my fingers and started writing, earning a groan from my wife. We met through work. I came here to begin working on this library, and she was a big help. We started dating, and now we co-own the facility.

"I...see." The Elf straightened. "That's...fascinating. A very unlikely partnership, yet it parallels the Demon Queens. How peculiar."

I suppose, I wrote, because she wasn't wrong. The infamous Queen Sethira and Queen Phaedra were a hyena and a spider, respectively, much like my wife and myself. Is there anything else you need?

My wife growled. I put an arm around her, and she softened up a bit.

"That will be all. I may be here tomorrow afternoon, but I think the notes I took from what you provided will be enough for tonight's study. Do you do long term rentals?"

We do, I replied, and trades, in honor of my wife's cultural customs, if there is something you wish to purchase and if a loan will not suffice. I have a pamphlet, if you'd like?

"I'll take one. Thank you."

I handed her one, then scrawled, Let us know if you need anything else.

My wife resumed her angry scribbling, clearly done listening to and translating this conversation.

The Elf departed then. Once the door shut, my wife exclaimed with her hands, "How do you not just obliterate people?"

"What do you mean?"

She shook her head, tossing her blonde mohawk to and fro. "Are your customers...always like that?"

"More often than not, yes," I replied.

"Clearly, I need to be up here more, then. I'll start kicking people out."

I laughed and shook my head. "Oh, darling, you don't need to do that! Everything's working smoothly enough."

"But things could always be better. You deserve that." She reached down and gave my leg an affectionate squeeze.

I shivered, but tried to ignore the more primal impulses that came with her touch. We were still open for a few hours, after all.

After a quick kiss, we resumed our tasks, checked out a few items, and made a trade. When we were closing the Athenaeum, a fleeting thought passed through my mind.

"That Elf gave me an idea."

My wife growled. "The idea of murder, I hope," she grumbled as she angrily swept the entryway.

"A good idea, I promise!" I reassured her. "What if I wrote our story?"

She paused her sweeping. "Our story?"

"Yes. You know how I like to write my romances..."

"All too well. I like your stories," she added with a nod.

"What if I wrote how we met and got together? I'm sure it would go over well with my readers."

"I suppose we are a bit of a unique couple." Hands fluttering in a visual mocking tone, she said, "'Unusual specimen,' if you will." Then burst out laughing, as any Sethiran would

I joined her in laughing, my sides beginning to burn. Once I collected myself, I said, "The next time someone asks, I could just point them to my book."

Her laughter faltered as her expression softened. She set the broom down and approached me, head tilted in thought. After wrapping her arms around me and giving my head a quick kiss, she pulled back and signed, "I look forward to seeing what you write about us."

---

And thus, this story was born.

Thanks to an encounter with an Athenaeum patron, I was inspired to write this novel describing how I obtained the Athenaeum, how I started writing, and most importantly, how I fell in love.

I'd like to thank my aforementioned lovely wife for supporting this endeavor. I love you!

Esme Elora