IVAN
slav. "god is gracious"
---
a son, a brother
tormented soul

How can one love if he cannot love his own brother?

Ivan departed in the morning to travel to the Pitt. He stole strengthening herbs and left without telling anyone.

What transpired at the border was something Ivan was ashamed and guilty of. He had deeply violated his moral convictions. The crying and pleading of his brother rang in his head all day long, tormenting him and giving him migraines.

Maybe when he’s finally home, he’ll realize that Moth is alive, and that Atticus and Winston are still here.

The journey home was tiresome, physically and mentally. It felt that all of his capacities had been thoroughly drained from him. He could not even cry, he felt so empty and shallow. By some strength of will, he managed to reach Tanglewood by dusk. The day was a bleak overcast, and now rain started to pour down in the beginnings of a thunderstorm. Ivan sought refuge in the library. His paws naturally carried him to his hidden stash underneath some floorboards. Ivan lingered on the bottle of rainwater that he had captured when he first experienced rain. He managed to salvage some comfort in it, and tried to hold on to it as the thunder raged on outside. It was his last grounding to a better place.

The migraine caused him delirium, and he paced the library with his bottle. He passed the entrance, suddenly aware of a very fat and not particularly good-looking tomcat that he hadn’t noticed when he came in. The visitor’s brow and whiskers were ragged. His shaggy dark fur was kempt at the barest of the minimum. His vapid yellow eyes traced Ivan’s movements. The young cat was only dimly aware of his presence, but ignored him. Ivan’s library visitor made the first chess move.

“You’re ill. Perhaps you should seek your father and tell him what’s been really happening. You meant to do so, after you saw the snake with many eyes.”

Ivan turned back around in the doorway of the library to face his tormentor for only a moment. Ivan stayed angrily silent, seemingly recognizing or realizing the situation he was in.

“Ah, that’s right,” The visitor continued after a moment of pause. “You have your brother’s blood on your paws, you Romulus. Do you think Mars would have approved of that fratricide? It was necessary to found a city, after all. Why won’t you speak to me? I’ve been waiting so patiently. Well, it’s unfortunate, I thought you were finally beginning to accept my reality. What? Don’t make that face to me. Well I heard one of them call you brave! Brave is it now! Hah! The world is coming around.”

“I won’t humour you.” Ivan spat. “I hate you, why won’t you leave me alone? My head is pounding, I need to sit down.” He tightened his grasp on the bottle of the rainwater.The chill of the glass dissipated in a moment from the heat sweating through his toes.

“That German philosopher!” Ivan’s unwelcome guest suddenly exclaimed. “He was so clever, just like you, and scorned all his childhood peers because they were too stupid to understand him. Vivo, ergo cogito! Not cogito ergo sum. Surely you understand that Latin, you Romulus. Wouldn’t it be better to live as a fat cow with dead eyes, only knowing the present and never caring about the past or future? What I’d give to incarnate as that thousand kilogram cow — yes, they use kilograms in Hell! Ivan, you don’t understand, my suffering is eternal, and I have no end in sight. And you ask, why?”

“I don’t ask why.” Ivan snarled hatefully, trying desperately to mend the void ripping in his soul.

The visitor only carried on. “Well, says I, perhaps it is because I am the only one who actually loves humanity. Without me, the world would be so painfully dull, no history, no suffering ... No chance for redemption if the world was just one long drab prayer. You see, the devil is a very misunderstood and slandered entity. Yes, you understand, I can see it although you hide your face. I know you hated the drudgery of a repeated life. But I love your earthly world! You must love it as well, because you are still here, breathing and living. You spit at it to feel intelligent, but you are still so young. Born with a gift. But still young.”

“I’ve had enough of your stupid monologuing. You’re tricking me. You’re the ugly extension of myself, twisting my thoughts. Hardly the fallen angel you want me to believe you are.” Ivan laughed sickly. The pounding in his head was becoming unbearable.

“A fallen angel? That’s too kind. Maybe that is what your uncle is, with his wings and powers. Do you spit at him like this too? I was never an angel, I was never fallen. But you can become a god, if you can just break past this horizon and proclaim Gott ist tot. It would be glorious, Ivan. There are no rules. Everything is allowed, with no guilt attached, even the physical attack on your dear brother —”

“Shut up about Atticus, you idiot!”

Ivan flung the glass bottle at the visitor. It shattered at his feet, and he jumped up in perfect elation.

“He throws it at me!” Ivan’s guest crowed. “Hehe, did you see that! He throws at the devil he doesn’t believe in! Run now, little Romulus. I shall play with you longer, I would not like it for you to kill me!”

Ivan lurched, but found himself stuck in place. He strained his muscles, he pricked his ears but heard only static. It was growing louder with each passing moment, to the point where he thought he would surely lose his mind.

Suddenly the spell broke and Ivan gasped in a flash of lighting, finding himself in the doorway of the library, his bottle held carefully in his polydactyl left paw. He glanced about himself feverishly, but did not see the tomcat in his corner.

“No.” He whispered. “No it was real, I saw - I saw him, I heard him. N-N-No, no, no, no.”

A frosty panic took over him, he raced out into the pouring rain. “No!” He raised his paw and slammed the bottle to the ground. It shattered; the rainwater that meant so much to him was gone in a moment, mingling with the rain now falling from the heavens. He watched the rivulets through dim eyes, noticing now the water started to run red.

He turned over his paw, seeing two angry red slices made from the glass shards.

His haunches sank into the ground as he heaved a dry sob. The rain beat at his neck. He didn’t want to tell them what he’d done all day today. He didn’t want to tell them what he’d done to Atticus. 

If he was being entirely honest, he didn't notice Ivan's disappearance. Most of the time, the boy bothered him first. Caustic wasn't one to instigate interaction with others- it just wasn't in his nature. No, Octavio did that for him.
The wolf was on the way back from the tavern when he saw the boy run out of the lobby. Caustic looks like a different beast entirely in the rain- the glow given from his eyes is more obvious in the dark, illuminating little else. His brown form is reduced to little more than gas and eyes and teeth, as green venom glints from his fangs. He is unaware of his own beastly appearance- the wolf is little more than hugeness and gas and eyes in the night.

Caustic is drawn in by Ivan's choked sobs, glowing eyes landing on the creature from the other day. He remembers, how she attacked Aurum when the lion extended her a paw. He notes, not to do the same. His gaze glances to Ivan for a moment, weighing over in his head the likelihood of the creature doing just the same.
Caustic considers what he would do.
"Ivan," he looms over the boy, glancing between him and the creature. "We should get you inside," Caustic attempts to be soft, letting himself loom over the pair. "You'll be alright," he says, trying to coax the boy to security as he places his paw on the tomcat.

IVAN
slav. "god is gracious"
---
a son
a brother