Quiet-Dream learned two very important things about himself in the days following the Explorers’ arrival.
First, what meager diplomatic skills he possessed completely crumbled in the face of anyone with remotely complicated problems. He learned the hard way with Chase that his first instinct was to project and repeat good advice that others had given to him with no regard for the fact that not everyone’s problems stemmed from the same stable of insecurities that fueled his own. His conversation with a better-rested Verdant-Trail the following day didn’t end in disaster, but he likewise found himself unable to contribute or offer any comfort beyond simple condolences. Whatever he thought his role would be in his idealistic “find a home for humans” goal, being the “face” of things wouldn’t be it.
Second, he was far, far better at reading other people than he had ever given himself credit for.
“They’re being lied to, Ink-Talon,” Quiet-Dream waved his paws at the crow, articulating his point silently while the two stood alone in Ink-Talon’s bedroom, the only way they could be absolutely sure that no one was eavesdropping on the conversation. “The Guardians have no intention of letting Explorer Verdant-Trail’s letter home be delivered once they write it, and they’re not going to let them leave when they decide that they’re ready. The Explorer being the leader between the two of them doesn’t matter to them when Chase has control of their body half the time. Chase existing at all makes them untrustworthy by their standards.”
“Are you sure you aren’t reading way too far into this?” Ink-Talon waved a wing back. “I doubt you could Understand any deeper meaning to that conversation than Verdant-Trail could.”
“No, I didn’t Understand things differently. But I know weasel words and lies of omission when I hear them.”
“Quiet-Dream, they don’t use words,” the crow sighed, tapping his own beak with a wingtip. “Our minds are just making them up for us to Understand them.”
“Exactly, that’s what puts us in a better position to catch these things!” Quiet-Dream stamped a forepaw. “In our world, lies are way more nuanced. We have to rely on intuition to detect them. In this world, if you intend to say something false, then people will Understand that you’re lying if they’re paying any attention. We’ve told our story at least a dozen times already, and every time, people either believe us, or believe that we believe it. Never once has anyone assumed that we are deliberately lying, despite how wild and absurd this all is.” He took a step forward and looked the crow dead in the eyes. “However, if what you say is technically true, and you express it with the intent to express that exact information and nothing else, then others will Understand it as true, even if you are omitting important details or presenting things in such a way to prompt someone to make a false assumption. Understanding’s reliability makes people extremely trusting. That trust can be exploited. We don’t have that same conditioning, and we have always had to think critically about what we are told. We can pick up on the deception far more easily than they can.”
“That’s… really cynical.” Ink-Talon’s posture sagged as he shuffled his feet. “Is that really how you’ve gone through life? Doubting the motives of everyone you meet?”
“I was… Look, that’s the past.” The squirrel shook his head, trying not to think too hard about the person he was a long time ago. “What matters here is that I know what this kind of manipulation looks like. I don’t have to Understand it to intuit it the normal, human way. We have to do something.”
“And what if you’re wrong? They’re not humans, we can’t just assume things like that! Plus, we’re trying to prove that we’re normal, trustworthy people!” The crow flared his left wing out and intensified his stare. “Maggie’s entire Consensus plan hinges on it. Do you really want to jeopardize that for a hunch?”
The argument went nowhere, in the end. Try as he might, Quiet-Dream couldn’t come up with a convincing argument for action that wasn’t based entirely on a hunch, or vibes, or intuition, or whatever he wanted to label it as. He agreed to let it go and go rest. It was clear that Ink-Talon was still worried about his mental health. From his point of view, every time it seemed like Quiet-Dream made headway, something new would come up and he’d be stressing over it again. But this was different. He wasn’t overly anxious, he was motivated. He knew something about this was wrong, and he’d figure out what it was.
That evening, he left the kits with Swift-Paw and went to visit Archivist Sharp-Search in the library. The Archivist met him at the door and dismissed his Guardian escort. The extremely bored Coyote was more than happy to take a break, and took up lounging on the opposite side of the hall to wait for him to leave.
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“You are not the type to independently research something,” Sharp-Search grunted as soon as the two were alone. It was a completely accurate assessment, if blunt. “Does this have something to do with the trio of afflicted Explorers in the infirmary?”
“Yes,” Quiet-Dream nodded. “Explorer Verdant-Trail sent a letter home to their Explorer’s Guild today, and I wanted to see if you had any records of it. I was also curious about how long distance messages like that are handled.”
“I am sure I can find information on both of those for you, though I am curious why the latter interests you.” The porcupine eyed him suspiciously, and he shot a glance back towards the heavy door to the library. It did a good job of blocking noise, but his ears could still pick up the occasional bit of sound from the hall beyond it. Those were from particularly loud animals, though, and he had exceptional hearing, so he was fairly confident that no one would overhear two rodents quietly chattering to each other.
“Can you promise to keep a secret?” Quiet-Dream asked, deciding to come clean.
“As long as it does not endanger anyone, gladly.”
“I believe that the Guardians are planning on keeping the Explorer’s messages from being delivered. I want to find out why.”
“A conspiracy?” Sharp-Search’s small, round ears, typically held flat against their head, immediately perked up. They were intensely interested in the prospect. Excited by it, even. “You other-world creatures certainly bring all manner of mystery and intrigue with you, and I very much like that. Shall we see what we can uncover?” They gestured towards the containers and shelves behind them eagerly.
“Thank you. This means a lot to me.” Quiet-Dream smiled. It was a strange expression for this face, as he just ended up baring his teeth, but he’d decided to start doing it again for his own comfort if nothing else. Otherwise it dampened the brief moments of comfort or joy he did find in this world, forcibly flattening his affect from his own perspective, if not that of others.
“And it means a lot to me that you have given me more to do in my role than file things away or report historical numbers,” the Archivist nodded, before pausing and tilting their head with concern. “However… We should start over here.” They led him over to a corner of the room where a small, unmarked basket sat in isolation, and began to rifle through its contents.
“What do you keep here?” Quiet-Dream asked, too small to see inside from the ground.
“Personal items. Here.” Sharp-Search emerged from the basket with something long and thin grasped in their jaws, which they then tossed at the squirrel’s feet with a flick of their neck. “Use this while I gather the relevant material to read.”
“What is it?” Quiet-Dream bent down to examine it. It seemed to be a squared-off wooden rod of some sort, sanded extremely smooth and smelling strongly of fresh pine. It was cut relatively recently.
“Something for you to chew on. You’ve clearly been neglecting your teeth, if you even know how to care for them in the first place.”
“Oh.” Swift-Paw had told him as much on their first night here, and he’d been given a small bundle of twigs to cut his teeth on, literally. But he’d put it off and subsequently forgot about it in the shuffle of moving rooms and everything else. And now that it was being pointed out to him, he couldn’t stop noticing that his lower incisors would just barely brush against the roof of his mouth when he moved his jaw in certain ways. “Y-yeah. I don’t really know what I’m doing here. I know that rodents have to wear down their incisors manually, but I’ve never had to do it myself, obviously. I don’t… eat the stick, do I?”
“No.” Sharp-Search sighed, but it was clear that they were more amused than annoyed. “You don’t bite to take pieces off, you bite to wear down the tips of your incisors. It is closer to carving than eating.” They retrieved a second stick from the basket, this one already noticeably worn down on one end, and demonstrated. “Align your incisors such that the force of the bite is evenly distributed among them, and none of it is on your cheek teeth. Then, repeatedly bite down, taking care not to pull your teeth across the surface. That can lead to chipping and uneven wear, not to mention making a mess of whatever you’re chewing on.” After watching the porcupine work for a minute, Quiet-Dream felt like he had the gist of it and set to work on the stick he’d been gifted. It felt strange and wrong, not just because of how inhumanly proportioned his teeth were, but also because it didn’t hurt at all. He was putting pressure on his teeth and jaw that would have been absurdly painful for a human mouth, but here it was just kinda tense.
“How long should I do this for?” He asked, his squeak muffled slightly by the combination of the stick and his posture.
“Right now, until I find what we’re looking for. In the future, it would be prudent to do it whenever you have an idle moment that would otherwise be spent doing nothing, at least until your mouth is in a healthier state.”
Throughout all of this lesson in dental hygiene, one thing was exceedingly clear: Sharp-Search loved nothing more than being able to share knowledge with someone in need of it. They’d squeak and bounce and just carry themselves with far more energy and self-respect than they ever did otherwise. It made Quiet-Dream wonder just how little their expertise was utilized by the Scholars if something as banal as this brought them joy. He was happy to give them something fulfilling to do, but he couldn’t help but feel sorry for them. Once he and Maggie had finished with their respective “projects,” the status quo would almost certainly set back in for them. The Archivist would once more have no one to teach.
He couldn’t help but wonder if Sharp-Search would be open to the idea of taking on an apprentice, at least in the short term. He’d have to ask when this investigation concluded. Maybe this could be something he’d be good at, something to put his focus on details to more use than just being paranoid. Something he could use to help guide everyone else in this world. He had no idea if he’d ever make a good leader, but with this he didn’t have to. For now, maybe he could just learn.