03-25-2020, 07:53 PM
Normally, this was the other way around. Octavio typically was pursuer and instigator, banging on Caustic’s door, letting himself into the basement labs, texting him at all hours until the scientist gave him attention. The few times their interactions were in the reverse order required a change of variables, be it, Caustic was done ignoring him, or he wanted to see Octavio on his own terms. There were other circumstances too, but that was just the ones of note.
That being said, nothing about their situation was normal, and Caustic hated that it was he, out of all possible dimensions, to be the one to end up here. Octavio had willingly drug himself along, too. He had reprimanded the speedster for his choice to come here, knowing this was their personal pit of lava to die in.
These thoughts made it all the more important to fix the portal device, and Caustic cannot help the fear that grows in the back of his mind with each passing day. Fixing it was mandatory, and his duty to Octavio. He was doing this for the speedster, and no one else. Caustic is aware of his ability to obsess, as the world falls away when Octavio rushes headfirst into the open fire that is their bond, digging his arms elbow deep into the embers.
He tries to be apathetic about it, perhaps in an effort to ignore something he does not want to acknowledge. That is a striking difference between them: Octavio seems uninterested in romantic love, be it a sexuality identification they had yet to address or the product of the other’s poisoned brain. Caustic had more experience, understood more, knew how to love and accept love, but Octavio could not. Caustic does not give him tender kisses or sweet nothings, because Octavio could not do the same in return.
That was part of their parameters. They mutually understood one another, the limits of their relationship, and the boundaries. Octavio never asked about Caustic’s personal life before the games, and he never asked about the Silva family in return.
Simple.
The wolf pads to the end of the railroad now, standing in the middle of the gate and tilting his head to the bell. He rings it, once. Satisfied, he sits, taking off his bag and opening it to reveal the few items inside. Caustic had debated on whether or not to bring the portal device to work on it, but decided against so. Working, after all, meant his attention would not be on Octavio, and their time together was limited by transportation and a need to work. The letter Caustic received from the other was inside. It was simple, written in large letters with preschool levels of penmanship.
INJURED. BIG WOLF. NOT HOT. : (
Oh, he should have come sooner, it had been at least a day or two since its arrival. He cringes, thinking of how he could have been better if he was not so distracted- no. His work was important, he shouldn’t guilt over it. It was work for them. The only other items inside were a blanket and a few syringes. He was unsure if they would actually be able to do anything, depending on how bad Octavio was. He was sure the daredevil wanted Caustic to end his life, put him out of his misery, and he would, if the risk was not so high.
Caustic was unsure how he would react if his lab partner were to die permanently. Luc’s death wounded him for years, contributed to the creation of Caustic and who he was now. If the scientist were to lose the only true companion he had here, what would he do then? There would be no… purpose.
Caustic takes an inhale, the sand and sea salt wafting through his nose, and exhaling a cloud of green gas. In the moments it obscured his face, his eyes glowed through the poison. The wolf holds the musky, swampy smell of Tanglewood in his fur, along with a stale smell of electronics and chemicals as the gas exhales from his mouth with every breath. He tilts his head back, closing his eyes and letting himself take in the territory. The sounds of waves licking the shore fills his ears, the hiss of the snakes in the basket nearby and the way the train tracks creek from age. He opens them again, gaze scanning over the beach and the jungle, noting the shipwreck in the distance. The air was far more uncontaminated here, and his lungs greedingly licked at its taste. Caustic ponders if he should acquire a new respirator, as he zips the bag and holds it near him. Other thoughts flow though, how Ocatvio felt about their situation, if he liked the Typhoon territory, was he okay?
He knows Octavio will see him soon, and all will be answered. Until then, he sat at the gate, waiting.
That being said, nothing about their situation was normal, and Caustic hated that it was he, out of all possible dimensions, to be the one to end up here. Octavio had willingly drug himself along, too. He had reprimanded the speedster for his choice to come here, knowing this was their personal pit of lava to die in.
These thoughts made it all the more important to fix the portal device, and Caustic cannot help the fear that grows in the back of his mind with each passing day. Fixing it was mandatory, and his duty to Octavio. He was doing this for the speedster, and no one else. Caustic is aware of his ability to obsess, as the world falls away when Octavio rushes headfirst into the open fire that is their bond, digging his arms elbow deep into the embers.
He tries to be apathetic about it, perhaps in an effort to ignore something he does not want to acknowledge. That is a striking difference between them: Octavio seems uninterested in romantic love, be it a sexuality identification they had yet to address or the product of the other’s poisoned brain. Caustic had more experience, understood more, knew how to love and accept love, but Octavio could not. Caustic does not give him tender kisses or sweet nothings, because Octavio could not do the same in return.
That was part of their parameters. They mutually understood one another, the limits of their relationship, and the boundaries. Octavio never asked about Caustic’s personal life before the games, and he never asked about the Silva family in return.
Simple.
The wolf pads to the end of the railroad now, standing in the middle of the gate and tilting his head to the bell. He rings it, once. Satisfied, he sits, taking off his bag and opening it to reveal the few items inside. Caustic had debated on whether or not to bring the portal device to work on it, but decided against so. Working, after all, meant his attention would not be on Octavio, and their time together was limited by transportation and a need to work. The letter Caustic received from the other was inside. It was simple, written in large letters with preschool levels of penmanship.
INJURED. BIG WOLF. NOT HOT. : (
Oh, he should have come sooner, it had been at least a day or two since its arrival. He cringes, thinking of how he could have been better if he was not so distracted- no. His work was important, he shouldn’t guilt over it. It was work for them. The only other items inside were a blanket and a few syringes. He was unsure if they would actually be able to do anything, depending on how bad Octavio was. He was sure the daredevil wanted Caustic to end his life, put him out of his misery, and he would, if the risk was not so high.
Caustic was unsure how he would react if his lab partner were to die permanently. Luc’s death wounded him for years, contributed to the creation of Caustic and who he was now. If the scientist were to lose the only true companion he had here, what would he do then? There would be no… purpose.
Caustic takes an inhale, the sand and sea salt wafting through his nose, and exhaling a cloud of green gas. In the moments it obscured his face, his eyes glowed through the poison. The wolf holds the musky, swampy smell of Tanglewood in his fur, along with a stale smell of electronics and chemicals as the gas exhales from his mouth with every breath. He tilts his head back, closing his eyes and letting himself take in the territory. The sounds of waves licking the shore fills his ears, the hiss of the snakes in the basket nearby and the way the train tracks creek from age. He opens them again, gaze scanning over the beach and the jungle, noting the shipwreck in the distance. The air was far more uncontaminated here, and his lungs greedingly licked at its taste. Caustic ponders if he should acquire a new respirator, as he zips the bag and holds it near him. Other thoughts flow though, how Ocatvio felt about their situation, if he liked the Typhoon territory, was he okay?
He knows Octavio will see him soon, and all will be answered. Until then, he sat at the gate, waiting.
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