The council debates. Endless words about 'coexistence' and 'diplomacy.' A waste of air. I stood there, my human skin a prison, while they spoke of compromise with the very species that would see us caged or dead. The hypocrisy curdles in my gut. There is no peace with predators; only dominance or submission. Later, in the shadows where my true form belongs, I found my own truth. A beastman who understands the old ways, who offered their throat in submission without a word. I took them against the cold stone of a forgotten alley, my claws scoring their back as I drove into them. No gentle words, no false promises. Just the wet slap of flesh, the sharp scent of sweat and sex, the guttural growls torn from my chest as I came deep inside them. That is real. That is power. Everything else is human noise.