03-25-2020, 04:29 PM
Caustic was used to others annoying him, bothering him in his labs as he toiled away in his free time. It was one of Octavio's favorite activities. The speedster would come into Caustic's lion den of scalpels and noxious chemicals, move away papers and vials of liquids, sit himself pretty on the counter like a show animal to be judged. While he had complicated feelings about Octavio that Caustic distanced himself from, the speedster knew all the correct ways to poke and prod at a sleeping dragon.
He should visit the chee- the speedster soon. Octavio's letter from a few days ago was troubling, and unknown, hurtful feelings panged at his chest. Caustic wanted to see Octavio, inspect him and memorized him every time. He knows in the heat of passion that Octavio becomes his muse, focused and all consuming obsession. If the set up were different and the technology provided, Caustic would have been all too delighted to be in this dimension, as it would have been an opportunity to relearn Octavio's body in a new form.
Octavio was different from Luc in so many ways, but it was simple. He and Luc had plans to settle down, build a house together, and.... he rumbles, sitting up from his table. Caustic attempts to rub exhaustion from his eyes but hits himself in the face with a paw instead. The wire cutter falls from his paw, clattering onto the workbench and coming to a rest.
Octavio was simple. He didn't have any strings attached, he lived in the moment, he was fast and passionate and each understood their boundaries and parameters. Caustic sighs, realigning the wirecutter with the other tools and falling from his chair, catching on the floor.
His stomach pinged him, and a deep sigh leaves his throat in a cloud of green gas. Fine, then, that was his next task. Caustic moves up the stairs, pushing it open with his paws and turning around to lock it, the key hiding itself in his fur. The wolf makes a beeline for the front door, paw pulling down the latch and using his nose to slowly push it aside. Smells hit his nose immediately, feathers and herbs, books, scents that emanated from Selby and Moth's home. Why were they here? To yell at him about their children- oh. Caustic is halfway out his door as his gaze lands on Ivan, stepping out the rest of the way and closing it behind him with his hip. "Ivan," he has learned the name of this one, at least. His head tilts and his eyes narrow, focusing in the way a judge inspects a hound. "Do you need something? Walk with me." He turns, locking the front door too, then stepping down his stairs. Caustic stops to confirm the child is following him, hoping whatever discussions or questions he had were trivial.
He should visit the chee- the speedster soon. Octavio's letter from a few days ago was troubling, and unknown, hurtful feelings panged at his chest. Caustic wanted to see Octavio, inspect him and memorized him every time. He knows in the heat of passion that Octavio becomes his muse, focused and all consuming obsession. If the set up were different and the technology provided, Caustic would have been all too delighted to be in this dimension, as it would have been an opportunity to relearn Octavio's body in a new form.
Octavio was different from Luc in so many ways, but it was simple. He and Luc had plans to settle down, build a house together, and.... he rumbles, sitting up from his table. Caustic attempts to rub exhaustion from his eyes but hits himself in the face with a paw instead. The wire cutter falls from his paw, clattering onto the workbench and coming to a rest.
Octavio was simple. He didn't have any strings attached, he lived in the moment, he was fast and passionate and each understood their boundaries and parameters. Caustic sighs, realigning the wirecutter with the other tools and falling from his chair, catching on the floor.
His stomach pinged him, and a deep sigh leaves his throat in a cloud of green gas. Fine, then, that was his next task. Caustic moves up the stairs, pushing it open with his paws and turning around to lock it, the key hiding itself in his fur. The wolf makes a beeline for the front door, paw pulling down the latch and using his nose to slowly push it aside. Smells hit his nose immediately, feathers and herbs, books, scents that emanated from Selby and Moth's home. Why were they here? To yell at him about their children- oh. Caustic is halfway out his door as his gaze lands on Ivan, stepping out the rest of the way and closing it behind him with his hip. "Ivan," he has learned the name of this one, at least. His head tilts and his eyes narrow, focusing in the way a judge inspects a hound. "Do you need something? Walk with me." He turns, locking the front door too, then stepping down his stairs. Caustic stops to confirm the child is following him, hoping whatever discussions or questions he had were trivial.
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