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[div style="width: 300px; max-height: 100px; height: overflow; overflow: scroll; padding-bottom: 5px; margin-top: -5px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 8pt; color: #152232; letter-spacing: 0px; text-align: justify;"]He kept fancying that Ivan was absorbed in something — something inward and important — that he was striving toward some goal, perhaps very hard to attain.

Within two weeks he had lost nearly half his family.

It was the last foundation that he could grasp, his family. It was the one blessing he had to enjoy after every torture he put his mind to. And even that was ripped away from him. Ivan simply was at a loss for how to react.

It truly felt like a stab in the back, by all his theories and philosophies. He was beginning to bore himself with the day-to-day duties, but when he said he wanted a passionate experience of life, he was not expecting this. No, quite the contrary. And he could not even reconcile that his mother was safe now in another life, that this all aligned with a creator's plan. It only sedimented his fury and self-centered view.

In this time of confusion, he strangely enough found himself gravitating to Caustic. With the nuclear family in shambles, Ivan was only gasping at the surface of a vast ocean. He told himself that he was going to the wolf's house, because he meant to all those days ago when Caustic's lab exploded. But he knew that to not be the case, because he had watched the spat between the doctor and Alaric with wide eyes, not quite fearful, but certainly distressed. Ivan wouldn't risk his life to attempt more interaction so soon. Instead the young cat busied himself with training the eaglet and spending time with his father, but now there was no normal. The bird was missing and if Ivan had fear of his father before, now was the time it ought to intensify.

That was why he limped up to Caustic's home and rapped his paw against the door.

[member=10990]CAUSTIC.[/member]

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[div style="width: 300px; max-height: 100px; height: overflow; overflow: scroll; padding-bottom: 5px; margin-top: -5px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 8pt; color: #152232; letter-spacing: 0px; text-align: justify;"]He kept fancying that Ivan was absorbed in something — something inward and important — that he was striving toward some goal, perhaps very hard to attain.

Caustic's home reminds Ivan of his own space. His eyes tear up and he stubbornly blinks them away. Well, former space. He did not have a lot of possessions either. The young cat is hesitant as Caustic invites him in, and quickly steps through the doorway, calming down his ruffled hackles.

"It's fine." Responded Ivan as his ears aligned forward and raised his nose.

He realizes that Caustic does not exactly treat him as a child. Nobody should really care for the opinions of a child, they were usually fickle and unsubstantial. Ivan used to think he was above that, but now he just felt scared and alone. Or maybe the doctor just always treats everyone like this. He doesn't know. And at this point, he doesn't care.

Then the apology about his family, and Ivan fights valiantly against the rising surge of emotion welling up in his chest. Who knew grief could be so exhausting? He felt physically drained every time his mother was mentioned. It was like he wanted to cry, but just could not find the strength to do so.

"It's fine," He usually doesn't like repeating himself, but he doesn't even notice that he did. "but I ... I don't want to talk about it." He shook himself and gave him a moment to recollect. He felt a little better with Caustic. "I wanted to see how you were doing after the explosion. What ... What happened?" 'You seemed awfully distraught,' But he kept that for himself.

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[div style="width: 300px; max-height: 100px; height: overflow; overflow: scroll; padding-bottom: 5px; margin-top: -5px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 8pt; color: #152232; letter-spacing: 0px; text-align: justify;"]He kept fancying that Ivan was absorbed in something — something inward and important — that he was striving toward some goal, perhaps very hard to attain.

It happens. He can tell that Caustic isn't quite familiar with his plight, but Ivan knows that he is practically destined to be a black sheep. It's nothing new. But for all Caustic's done for him, Ivan's not quite ready to see him on par as his father. He can't even really be his friend either, since the difference in age is great.

Thinking about something else would help him, but the wolf didn't give him much to work with. From the time he saw Caustic with the rabbit, Ivan liked to think that Caustic had a high rate of success with whatever he was doing. After all, he was learned. Unfortunately for Caustic, Ivan was not planning on letting this go so easily.

"I already knew that. Everyone who saw you there knows that." Ivan responded with a flick of his tail. "What? Were you trying to explode some creature? But if that were the case, I don't understand why you tried so hard to go back. So it's not that. What was it? Can I know?"

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[div style="width: 300px; max-height: 100px; height: overflow; overflow: scroll; padding-bottom: 5px; margin-top: -5px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 8pt; color: #152232; letter-spacing: 0px; text-align: justify;"]He kept fancying that Ivan was absorbed in something — something inward and important — that he was striving toward some goal, perhaps very hard to attain.

Ivan was quite observant, and that was especially true from such a young age. Growing gave him more experiences, which in turn gave rise to new ideas. Ivan had his own secrets, but he liked to think he was good at hiding them. Caustic had, unfortunately, allowed a pestering little worm to get so close to him. Not many held the special honor of being admired by Ivan. He was normally a very proud individual.

And Ivan was convinced now more than ever that he had impinged on a weak spot in Caustic's explanations. There was something more than he was letting on. "Already discarded that notion." Ivan responded, subconsciously leaning forward. "Alright, what was it? Something bigger than that? Did it have anything to do with Octane? How do you put up with him anyway — I don't really understand it. I won't tell Aurum, if you tell me. And by God, if you have something that can go to space ... " He didn't mean for it to all come out like that. Sometimes he acted more childish than other times.

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[div style="width: 300px; max-height: 100px; height: overflow; overflow: scroll; padding-bottom: 5px; margin-top: -5px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 8pt; color: #152232; letter-spacing: 0px; text-align: justify;"]He kept fancying that Ivan was absorbed in something — something inward and important — that he was striving toward some goal, perhaps very hard to attain.

And it was probably for the best Caustic withheld the nature of his relationship with Octane. Ivan was intelligent, but not very worldly, and there was a difference. He did not understand romance fully, primarily on account of his age. He just didn't need to. As it were, he was growing up and coming of age very soon, so he only had the faintest hints of a change in desires, but perhaps Ivan was such a rock that he might never understand.

So he left it at that. Caustic and Octane were lab partners. Lab partners worked together on experiments and ... lived in the same house ... and for some reason stuck together despite the polarity of their demeanors. So it's patience, but Ivan was impatient.

Ivan pricked his ears and rose to his feet when he noticed Caustic opening the basement door. Ivan'd never been down there, obviously. "Alright, but maybe it goes somewhere else. I hope I'm not being very insolent in saying that it seems you're something very different from the others. And I'm not talking just because you seem to be the only one who likes to experiment on others." Ivan remembered clearly how Caustic managed his rabbit experiment in the yard, holding the syringe in his paw. He also recalled Caustic's apparent insecurity about eating in front of someone, and the way he and Octane planted on their porch. It was the little things like that.

Ivan was sick of his theories never having conclusions. That was the despairing part about philosophy.

"Do you want to stay here?" This was all Ivan had ever known in physicality. His mind traversed lands and periods, but he was still stuck in the swamp. He'd like to leave, but there was no where to do. "It's a bit dull, isn't it?"