I was alright, for a while [o, drabble thing? idk]

[CAUSTIC.]

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DR. CAUSTIC

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TOXIC TRAPPER
MACKENZIE VALLEY WOLF
TANGLEWOOD
"Humanity. It's just a word."

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//cw for needles and some animal torture

Perhaps it was silly of him to collect human objects. Caustic once would proclaim how humanity- the goodness of others- was just a word. This was still true, but it had a different context now. Each plant he placed and each item he collected ever so slowly was turning his house into a home. He wouldn't acknowledge such fact, though.

Records were a fickle thing, and he got Octavio to collect the ones they could find. It was a lost form of media, he had learned. It took some research to even learn what a record was, and became enthralled when he learned it was a music device. He had dead set on the task of getting one to work with Octavio. He couldn't explain the need, it was something he had to do. Music was... not his thing, but it was human.

They had found around twenty records in their scavenging, but many of them were warped, dirty, and unusable. After cleaning the three Caustic deemed usable, a new problem arose. How did it work?
It didn't have any buttons, any player or attachment to a cloud database, it just... was.

Their next findings were crucial in the task of obtaining human sound. Caustic found an instruction book that told him how a record player worked. How primitive, needing two different devices to produce sound, a disc and a player.
None of the ones then found worked, of course. They needed power, but they got lucky.

Octavio found it in child's drawer, thought it looked neat, brought it home. It was a little plastic van, with a space in the back for an archaic battery, and a needle underneath. Once the correct battery was acquired, Caustic discovered it had a method of locomotion once it was turned on, and a needle, he got curious.

It was a Record Runner, it would run along the vinyl and play the music.

Tunes would play from the little van, and Caustic would move it from one record to the next as he worked. In an attempt to return to some form of normalcy, the wolf was continuing his dastardly experiments below. It was a joy, really, with Aurum gone, his tests should go undisturbed now.

"Yes, now you're gone," he’s a huge sap, sometimes. He can’t help but think of the engineer’s face and Luc’s sweet tenor tone as he sings. Caustic is a private fellow by nature, singing songs with Luc and Luc alone, but his lonely, terrible baritone found itself reverberating off the walls of his lab.

And from this moment on, I'll be cry-ing, cry-ing, Caustic’s paws clutch down onto the raccoon, holding it in place on one of his work desks. Oh, it’s already screaming. Caustic thinks he can hear words trying to form, but he doesn’t really care. This is a return to form. His Test Subjects always screamed before their untimely end, begging him for the end.

"Cry-ing, cry-ing, yeah, cry-ing, cry-ing," Caustic takes the syringe between his metal toes, implanting it into the raccoon, watching as his venom left the vial with the press of the plunger. He’s lost in the mindless taste, holding it down as the venom takes hold. The song keeps him company through the ordeal, as the raccoon falls into numbness, staring at the wolf with terrified eyes.

The last lyric comes, and Caustic cranes his head back as he sings, "Awooohhhver youuuu." The you part of the song is drawn out, and before Caustic can stop it, he’s howling. Like a wolf, a real, feral wolf. Caustic snaps his head down and jaws shut, feeling… quite embarrassed with himself.

He hoped no one heard. Who was even up at this time of night?

// ARE YOU HAPPY NOW? CAUSTIC AWOOOOOOOOO 

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Original code by lexasperated / artwork by @R_HillPrime

[BLOODHOUND.]

As the heat had permeated the daytime, stifling and oppressive, Bloodhound had been spending less and less time out during the day, spending their evenings in the cool shade of their home. They took this time to take care of their injured crow friend, to play and talk with the crows that had begun to make the upper floor of their house, their home. The crows didn't offer... anything in the way of conversation, but seemed to enjoy their voice, their presence. Because it of course meant food.

They had spent most of the night hunting, having gathered enough for themself and their crow friends. They took the time to feed, still getting used to the taste of raw flesh. They had eaten it on occasion as a child, when they couldn't light a fire, when the rain drowned out the night. Foolish, then. Natural, now.

Necessary. It wasn't something they took pleasure in, but they would not let a life spent go to waste.

They had made their way back into town, back home, when they heard the gentle, distant sound of.... music? Something so human and familiar... it drew them in, closer and closer, until they could hear it coming from a specific home, somewhere behind the front door.

And it all smelled very much, like the scientist they knew.

They wondered, perhaps they should leave him with this private moment, let him have this. They knew that he wasn't taking this sudden change well, that living as a human was a luxury, compared to living as a wolf. But yet... they were here, at his door. Listening into his home like a voyeur. It was disrespectful, really. They turned to leave, but then, they could hear the Doctor's voice singing along, as the words picked up.

How many times had he listened to this song, they wonder, thinking of the man they knew, all scientific practices and an unquenchable thirst to observe death. How his corrosive compounds could fill a room and burn away skin and tissue and fill your lungs, how he would watch intently from the window, how he was fascinated with his own deaths in the ring. Feeling it, living it.

And yet... that same man, or rather, one parallel to him, was here singing.

They can hear something scream, as well, a feral, fearful sound, even accompanied by the music. They slowly reach out to scratch their dull claws against the door, as Caustic's singing becomes a very wolf-like howl, all drawn out words. It stops quickly, the Doctor cutting himself off.

Bloodhound is... taken back somewhat. Surprised at him, for letting that slip. Surprised at themself, for not walking away earlier. For witnessing.... whatever this was. It was very obviously supposed to be a private moment. And yet... their instincts want them to respond. To howl back, to pack bond, with the wolf beyond the door.

They slowly step back from the door. Their blood is racing, coursing through them, instincts drumming on their throat. They make a few aborted sounds, all whuffs and grunts, the noises forcing themselves out of their maw as they try to breathe, to sigh. What a strange experience. The Allfather must be looking down upon them and laughing, what wolf stifles a howl? Were they forsaking him, by not making use of this gift?

Instinct gets the better of them, and they howl in return, a long, echoing sound, something new and harsh to their lungs. They had always thought wolfsong sounded... mournful. Haunting. The darker the woods, the deeper the cold, the more dreadful it was.

The howl is punctuated by a coughing fit, and wheezing, as they try to catch their breath.

THE TRUE TEST IS BEFORE THE ALLFATHER.

[Ivan]

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

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ALYOSHA, MY DEAR, MY ONLY SON, I'M AFRAID OF IVAN —

Ivan had found the Vitruvian Man diagram and studied it, though not without blushing and embarrassment, mainly because he found it a mere wishful fantasy to dream of being a human. Still, it did intrigue him, and he was reminded of the time he had confronted Caustic about having a body. In essence, perhaps, Ivan was human. He could think and act of a free will (or so he thought). This perhaps was the most concerning to him, and he kept it to himself mainly because he did not feel the need to startle or shock his Clanmates. He did not want to be ridiculed either, for being the crazy individual holding the lantern.

Ivan had often felt irritated that he was not born as some noble creature. He had recently come to the theory that perhaps he wasn't as chained down to animalish instincts because he was a domesticated animal. But even so, it still didn't sit right with him. These things hurt his head terribly and often gave him migraines, but Ivan pushed through it in some part because he did not want to run away from the rift he caused.

A howl shook Ivan from his sleep, ironically, this was his own instinct at play, forcing the young cat into an attentive mode to pinpoint the sound. He had fallen asleep on his book, but that was abandoned in the way he strained his ears. There were wolves in Tanglewood, but he had never heard them howl. It was cut short and Ivan had finally realized it came from Caustic's home. His eyes peeled wide in a strange, uncomfortable feeling. He was silent for a few beats, then rose his hackles in alarm as a second wolf responded. That too was cut short.

Ivan remained still for a while, then finally settled down again, planting his forehead to the ground as his eyes began to fall shut once more. He permitted himself a weak smile. No, he'll allow Caustic to keep his dignity, he'll pretend he did not hear. In the next time he caught the doctor, he could explain his latest theory in the necessary tyranny of base animal instincts.

— I'M MORE AFRAID OF IVAN THAN THE OTHER ONE.