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CAUSTIC
// only need to read the last paragraph, everything else is set up!
They were able to get out of most of the territory without passing through the desert, and waited in the tunnels till nightfall, so that was safe to go again. Or at least, as safe as it could be. Blistering heat or extreme cold was harmful to either one of them, but the winter chill kept Octavio close to Caustic’s side. They pressed onwards until they were out of The Pitt’s territory, with Caustic giving one last look to the spiked border.
He wasn’t going to particularly miss any of them. Micheal had been alright, but he had disappeared already and Caustic wasn’t going to bother retaining any idea of acquaintanceship. Astair was insightful only in what laid beneath his skin, and Kydobi had done exactly what Caustic asked of him: to leave him be. Gael was fine, too, but the rest were children and the clan was overall, weak. He was unsure of what fate lied before the Pitt, but Caustic had no desire to be a part of it. Octavio rubbed his head against the wolf’s shoulder, an urge to continue, and turned, traversing into loner lands.
The uncharted territories were alright, but possessed some of his similar problems with the Pitt. A lack of anything useful to him, okay nature to passively enjoy. However, it seemed the prey was much more abundant, and when they stopped to rest for the day, Caustic set to perform his obligatory acts of survival.
“No.”
Octavio, shockingly, had stopped him, standing between him and the den they were crashing in for the night. “What?” Octavio never gave him orders, how dare he-
“You stay here, I’ll find some food.”
“No.” He ended his retort with a harsh, wheezing cough, sputtering out of him like a dying engine. Caustic ducked his face away as he coughed, then returning to meet gazes with the cheetah. The wolf was weakened by his time in the Pitt, lacking proper food and medicine for his lungs, but he would not allow such weakness to be known to Octavio.
“No, you’re not. Mi rey, por favor you are too weak to hunt, let me do it.”
Octavio was pushing that boundaries. That was not how this worked. Caustic was supposed to be in charge, order where to go, where to stay, not the other way around.
He stared at the cheetah for many uncomfortable moments, the dots above his eyes pulled up in an expression of anger, his lips pulled back, baring teeth and inching ever so closer to snarling at Octavio like a deranged animal. His ears were tilted back, fur raised, and tail up.
Sometimes, he hated Octavio’s ability to look death in the eyes and smile. He was using that ability now to tell Caustic what to do. He weighed this out his out in his head, and found himself relaxing, shutting his eyes and sitting down. “Fine. Go.”
Indeterminate time had passed, but it was enough time for Caustic to unstrap his bag and lay down on his side, lulling to sleep. He had been doing that more lately- it was uncomfortable, really. Extra sleep was time he could spend working, wasted away. When Octavio returned, he was limping just a little more, and a rabbit was held limp in his jaws.
Caustic’s tail couldn’t help but wag. They ate separately from each other, splitting the meal in half best they could. The wolf hunched over in the corner as the rabbit’s blood filled his mouth and its meat slid down his throat. It’s bones crunched under the pressure of his teeth, ripping the skin and tearing into it.
He hated eating. It was a level of savagery far below Caustic’s standard for brutality, it felt so unnatural, and a little part in the back of his head was too delighted to rip into it like jerky. Caustic had no issue with blood, typically. It was part of the job. The blood of other legends had been spilled on his hands many times before, he had ripped open Octavio’s body at the ribs several times over, digging his hands inside- but eating them? Never done before. Cannibalism drives someone crazy, and perhaps making the distinction that the prey they ate were feral would settle his moral quandary.
Licking the blood from his maw, Caustic looked over his shoulder at Octavio, gas leaking from the corners of his mouth in small streams. He had to eat for him, Caustic had to get them out of here, together. He had to do this for Octavio. They met gazes for the briefest of moments, then Caustic turned away, resuming to eat.
They fell asleep after. Octavio had come to lay down near him, but was getting too close, too comfortable. They had boundaries, and Octavio had already crossed them twice this week. His attempts to push the cheetah away, stare at him with his dots pulled up in clear annoyance, only brought Octavio closer, and continually try to touch him.
He allowed their backs to touch as they laid side-by-side. No more.
Octavio woke up first, obviously. The cheetah wasted no time in rousing Caustic, nuzzling his cold, wet nose against the wolf’s face. They had a new task- the scent of the Pitt had to be alleviated from Caustic’s fur.
---
“Hold still.”
Caustic’s ears were pinned back, looking away from Octavio as he tinkered with the wolf’s brush and scissors.
“I have to cut with my mouth, don’t move.”
The wolf rumbled, a low growl harbored in his throat. Too touchy, but he couldn’t do this by himself. His fur was still soaking wet, and Caustic’s over demeanor had been reduced by half. His fur clung to his skin, revealing his thinned frame and flattened stomach. It wasn’t caving, yet, but it had only been a matter of time before he died from the Pitt’s famine. He had to go. There wasn’t any other choice. Octavio was next to him, scissors in his mouth, carefully cutting at Caustic’s clumps of fur, and brushing it out. He hated how nice it felt, biting his tongue and giving a small, slow wag of the tail. He wasn’t sure how strong the scent would be, given the lack of shampoo. Oh well, Caustic could probably lie his way inside, and Octavio would vouch for him.
He wasn’t entirely aware of the clan history, but from an outsider perspective, the position the Pitt was in was overall depressing and doomed to die. Caustic looked down at Octavio cutting the last of the knots away. He didn’t want to ponder on the topic anymore. They would leave soon, taking the path going around the left side of the mountain.
His fur was still somewhat damp when they reached the tanglewood border, but mostly dried off. It was still a little wet at the ends. Octavio’s limp had festered throughout the journey, and both of them knew there wasn’t much to do about it. Caustic certainly didn’t have the fortitude to carry him, and it was just… not his style. Hopefully, Tanglewood could refresh his bandages. They arrived at the eastern side of Tanglewood, where he could see a lake vaguely in the distance. That would be nice, certainly more refreshing than the other bodies of water around here. Caustic sat down, adjusting the bag that carefully held his chemicals, letting the gas fume from his mouth like a resting trail of smoke. Get in, get settled, and take a good nap. All good plans. Then, he could send Octavio home, and Caustic could resume fixing the portal maker.
// Octane and Caustic have arrived at the border near the lake. Octane has a strange device strapped to his back, and both of them have bags. Caustic still smells a little like the pitt, BUT he's mostly dried off so his lost weight isn't obvious.
They were able to get out of most of the territory without passing through the desert, and waited in the tunnels till nightfall, so that was safe to go again. Or at least, as safe as it could be. Blistering heat or extreme cold was harmful to either one of them, but the winter chill kept Octavio close to Caustic’s side. They pressed onwards until they were out of The Pitt’s territory, with Caustic giving one last look to the spiked border.
He wasn’t going to particularly miss any of them. Micheal had been alright, but he had disappeared already and Caustic wasn’t going to bother retaining any idea of acquaintanceship. Astair was insightful only in what laid beneath his skin, and Kydobi had done exactly what Caustic asked of him: to leave him be. Gael was fine, too, but the rest were children and the clan was overall, weak. He was unsure of what fate lied before the Pitt, but Caustic had no desire to be a part of it. Octavio rubbed his head against the wolf’s shoulder, an urge to continue, and turned, traversing into loner lands.
The uncharted territories were alright, but possessed some of his similar problems with the Pitt. A lack of anything useful to him, okay nature to passively enjoy. However, it seemed the prey was much more abundant, and when they stopped to rest for the day, Caustic set to perform his obligatory acts of survival.
“No.”
Octavio, shockingly, had stopped him, standing between him and the den they were crashing in for the night. “What?” Octavio never gave him orders, how dare he-
“You stay here, I’ll find some food.”
“No.” He ended his retort with a harsh, wheezing cough, sputtering out of him like a dying engine. Caustic ducked his face away as he coughed, then returning to meet gazes with the cheetah. The wolf was weakened by his time in the Pitt, lacking proper food and medicine for his lungs, but he would not allow such weakness to be known to Octavio.
“No, you’re not. Mi rey, por favor you are too weak to hunt, let me do it.”
Octavio was pushing that boundaries. That was not how this worked. Caustic was supposed to be in charge, order where to go, where to stay, not the other way around.
He stared at the cheetah for many uncomfortable moments, the dots above his eyes pulled up in an expression of anger, his lips pulled back, baring teeth and inching ever so closer to snarling at Octavio like a deranged animal. His ears were tilted back, fur raised, and tail up.
Sometimes, he hated Octavio’s ability to look death in the eyes and smile. He was using that ability now to tell Caustic what to do. He weighed this out his out in his head, and found himself relaxing, shutting his eyes and sitting down. “Fine. Go.”
Indeterminate time had passed, but it was enough time for Caustic to unstrap his bag and lay down on his side, lulling to sleep. He had been doing that more lately- it was uncomfortable, really. Extra sleep was time he could spend working, wasted away. When Octavio returned, he was limping just a little more, and a rabbit was held limp in his jaws.
Caustic’s tail couldn’t help but wag. They ate separately from each other, splitting the meal in half best they could. The wolf hunched over in the corner as the rabbit’s blood filled his mouth and its meat slid down his throat. It’s bones crunched under the pressure of his teeth, ripping the skin and tearing into it.
He hated eating. It was a level of savagery far below Caustic’s standard for brutality, it felt so unnatural, and a little part in the back of his head was too delighted to rip into it like jerky. Caustic had no issue with blood, typically. It was part of the job. The blood of other legends had been spilled on his hands many times before, he had ripped open Octavio’s body at the ribs several times over, digging his hands inside- but eating them? Never done before. Cannibalism drives someone crazy, and perhaps making the distinction that the prey they ate were feral would settle his moral quandary.
Licking the blood from his maw, Caustic looked over his shoulder at Octavio, gas leaking from the corners of his mouth in small streams. He had to eat for him, Caustic had to get them out of here, together. He had to do this for Octavio. They met gazes for the briefest of moments, then Caustic turned away, resuming to eat.
They fell asleep after. Octavio had come to lay down near him, but was getting too close, too comfortable. They had boundaries, and Octavio had already crossed them twice this week. His attempts to push the cheetah away, stare at him with his dots pulled up in clear annoyance, only brought Octavio closer, and continually try to touch him.
He allowed their backs to touch as they laid side-by-side. No more.
Octavio woke up first, obviously. The cheetah wasted no time in rousing Caustic, nuzzling his cold, wet nose against the wolf’s face. They had a new task- the scent of the Pitt had to be alleviated from Caustic’s fur.
---
“Hold still.”
Caustic’s ears were pinned back, looking away from Octavio as he tinkered with the wolf’s brush and scissors.
“I have to cut with my mouth, don’t move.”
The wolf rumbled, a low growl harbored in his throat. Too touchy, but he couldn’t do this by himself. His fur was still soaking wet, and Caustic’s over demeanor had been reduced by half. His fur clung to his skin, revealing his thinned frame and flattened stomach. It wasn’t caving, yet, but it had only been a matter of time before he died from the Pitt’s famine. He had to go. There wasn’t any other choice. Octavio was next to him, scissors in his mouth, carefully cutting at Caustic’s clumps of fur, and brushing it out. He hated how nice it felt, biting his tongue and giving a small, slow wag of the tail. He wasn’t sure how strong the scent would be, given the lack of shampoo. Oh well, Caustic could probably lie his way inside, and Octavio would vouch for him.
He wasn’t entirely aware of the clan history, but from an outsider perspective, the position the Pitt was in was overall depressing and doomed to die. Caustic looked down at Octavio cutting the last of the knots away. He didn’t want to ponder on the topic anymore. They would leave soon, taking the path going around the left side of the mountain.
His fur was still somewhat damp when they reached the tanglewood border, but mostly dried off. It was still a little wet at the ends. Octavio’s limp had festered throughout the journey, and both of them knew there wasn’t much to do about it. Caustic certainly didn’t have the fortitude to carry him, and it was just… not his style. Hopefully, Tanglewood could refresh his bandages. They arrived at the eastern side of Tanglewood, where he could see a lake vaguely in the distance. That would be nice, certainly more refreshing than the other bodies of water around here. Caustic sat down, adjusting the bag that carefully held his chemicals, letting the gas fume from his mouth like a resting trail of smoke. Get in, get settled, and take a good nap. All good plans. Then, he could send Octavio home, and Caustic could resume fixing the portal maker.
// Octane and Caustic have arrived at the border near the lake. Octane has a strange device strapped to his back, and both of them have bags. Caustic still smells a little like the pitt, BUT he's mostly dried off so his lost weight isn't obvious.
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![[Image: Tiny_Pixel_Octane.png]](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/420775002091028481/716860912790929508/Tiny_Pixel_Octane.png){kind=tracking}
