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To kick off the first day of Macro March, here is the first chapter of Part II of A Matter of Perspective: Chapter 11 - Restraint.
I know some people have been eager for this during the month of February, so I hope this is worth the wait. Now that people know what has happened with my wolf sona being an Ascendant, I can say that the reason I picked the schedule is to have Part II of Lupus being macro be at the very start of Macro March and give people time to catch up with Part I. So, here it is, the start of Part II, enjoy!
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Chapter 11: Restraint
Lupus woke up to scratch the tip of his claw down the wall to mark his thirty-second morning here.
Thirty-three days spent adapting to his Vastelerian body. A month of keeping the storm inside him at bay. He found himself ensnared by the storm’s eye; if he let go…
A measured breath left Lupus to calm the wailing winds inside him. The wind ceased, yet the fire in his gaze persisted.
Narrowed eyes averted to the steel door, to the unused intercom, and the dim light bulb above. Innocent of sunlight, with a neighbouring prisoner to keep him company—a voice of a broken angel.
She spoke in a familiar melody, now warped by vocal cords trembling with whimpers. Calmer than her cries for help before they introduced themselves on day three: Lupus and Clara.
Lupus longed for a spark of joy at seeing Clara again, yet he felt sorrow. Sympathy for a woman who healed the sick and couldn’t heal herself.
A lonesome thought interrupted by the intercom crackling, “Please state your name.”
The wolf’s squinting eyes expanded. Contact from the world beyond the metal walls.
“Please state your full name,” a woman repeated.
“Huh?” Lupus’s morning voice rasped until he cleared his throat to growl, “What do you want?”
“Sir, please state your full name for the record,” she echoed.
“No,” snarled the defiant journalist within him. He pushed himself off the bed to slam his paws on the steel floor. “I won’t tell you anything until I know what happened to my best friend,” he spat.
The intercom hissed. “Sir, you will comply. Please state your full name.”
Lupus remained silent with two fists hanging by his waist.
“Comply, and we will consider telling you,” the woman’s venomous voice stated. “Please state your name.”
Lupus’s fist clenched. His chest heaved until he released a shuddering exhale. “Lupus…” he conceded.
A crackle came from the intercom again. “Your full name, sir,” she requested with dissatisfaction.
Lupus faltered. With arms crossed, he averted his eyes from the intercom.
“Sir, please state your legal name for the record.”
“Lupus Kintsugi,” he replied through gritted fangs.
The speaker crackled again. “Understood,” she stated with a bland voice. “Is that your legal name, sir?”
Lupus’s folded arms tightened their grip on his chest. Lines formed near his nose and eyes. With his wrinkled maw directed downwards, he stated, “Yes,” ready to recall the day he signed the Deed Poll.
“Much appreciated, sir.” A pause preceded the intercom’s return. “Next question: what is the last thing you remember?”
Liam’s motionless body on the roadside came to mind. An image he shied away from in shame, with a head bowed.
“Sir, what is the last thing you remember?”
He inhaled to combat the returning storm disturbing his equilibrium. Anguish and anger welled up. With his fingers digging into his arms to push them away, his claws grazed his skin.
“Sir, please answer the—”
“What happened to my friend?” Lupus asked, blunt. He drew his body inward to imprison the storm raging beneath his skin.
“Sir, please answer my question.”
Breath shortened. He contorted his wrinkled snout before spitting, “I said—” and swung a fist into the wall, then let out a roar, “What happened to my best friend?!”
The lock yielded to a click.
Calmness replaced the storm brewing inside him, and his narrowed eyes opened. Retreating, Lupus stepped back as the door creaked open.
A neutral mouth and glowing amethyst eyes pierced the darkness in the doorway.
Lupus held his ground. The art of self-defence became instinct thanks to London life. He braced himself when the figure stepped into the room.
A military-grade boot struck the metal floor. Rooting out of the shoe– violet furred leg extended up to meet grey cargo shorts. Arms made of tungsten steel hung without stiffness at the sides. After stopping in the room, the protogen crossed their arms over their chest.
When he saw it was the Protogen from the highway, his eyelids tightened. A subtle contraction that betrayed the storm threatening to erupt inside him.
Behind the thin veneer of wrinkled eyes, his mind relapsed to the roadside where the Protogen stood between him and returning Liam home. ‘If he hadn’t stopped me, Liam would have been safe,’ he thought, and anger churned in his stomach.
Despite his efforts to clear his head with breaths, Lupus’s eyes stayed glued to the Protogen.
On the visor, the nanites rippled open to reveal a magenta mouth. “Are you going to comply, Meester Kintsugi?” It questioned with scarce emotion, perhaps too little for even a creature that is half organic.
Lupus buried his vexation. Held it in the stomach where his dread for Liam lay.
The Protogen’s pixelated eyes contracted to thin slits. “Meester Kintsugi,” they uttered with sternness. “I won’t ask a second time. Are you going to comply?”
Knowing better than to show a reaction, Lupus grunted, “Tell me if my friend is safe, and I’ll do it.”
“Not complying vill deny you any chance of an answer,” the protogen shot back.
The reply failed to soothe the wolf’s animosity for the man. Though his patience frayed, he muttered out, “Understood,” to concede.
Circles replaced the Protogen’s slitted eyes. “Good,” they said, while the soft thud of their boots echoed in the room. “You vill answer all questions presented to you. Meanvhile, I vill be your polygraph—”
Lupus knitted his brows. “My what?”
They paused a few paces shy of him. “I vill monitor all your micro-expressions. If you lie, I’ll know. Are you ready for your next question?”
He mumbled, “Yes,” his teeth bared. Lupus’s eyes darted up when the intercom crackled.
“Sir, please state your former occupation.”
“Former—?” Lupus stopped talking when the protogen’s eyes narrowed into slits again. “Sorry. I am, or was, a journalist,” he answered, a pang of regret hitting him when he realised the life built is history.
Once more, the intercom crackled. “Were you aware you had the Vastelerian genes before the growth period started?”
“No,” he sighed. “I knew after the change started.”
“Noted,” the woman replied. “Next question. Did the Petritan named Liam Spencer know of your Vastelerian genetic lineage?”
Lupus hesitated. He took his time, aware that a single wrong answer would condemn Liam as a traitor. Years of media training allowed him to craft a truthful response that would shield the jaguar from the unfair law.
Once he had planned his answer, his posture softened. “He knew when I finished growing,” Lupus replied with an expression void of emotion.
“Follow up question. After completing your growth process, did you kidnap Petritan?” She asked.
Lupus's eyes were heavy with shame. “Yes,” he admitted in a whisper. “I took em’ with me,” he added, hoping to satisfy the lady’s curiosity.
It did not. More questions arose concerning voting history, salary range, and educational background. An evaluation across various metrics. He couldn’t figure out if the purpose was to create a psychological profile, an ideological profile, or a blend of the two. Yet, his worry over Liam’s status overshadowed his concern for the survey’s findings.
Lupus inquired about the purpose of these questions, but his questions went unanswered. The protogen advanced to ensure his compliance. As the booted protogen got closer, his questions ceased.
“Last question,” she said. “Do you pose a threat?”
Startled, Lupus looked at his body for answers. He observed his elevated hands and then scanned down his entire physique. Everything from enhanced strength, durability, and size. A magnified body that turned him into a living natural disaster in the Petritan’s eyes.
Clenching his fingers into his palm, Lupus confessed, “I don’t know.”
Silence stretched long enough for Lupus to expect the repercussions of his answer. He turned to the Protogen for reassurance until the lady interrupted the ambiance.
“That is all,” the woman stated. “Mr Shavinsky, please brief Mr Kintsugi before the panel this afternoon.”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you for your time,” the protogen replied.
The red light on the intercom extinguished a second later. A sigh emanated from the protogen’s vocaliser. “My apologies, ziomek, it’s protocol,” he stated, offering his hand to the wolf.
Lupus responded to the gesture with a raised eyebrow. “Ziomek?” He challenged.
“It means buddy,” Carlos said and straightened his posture to stand at attention. “I’m Carlos Shavinski. A Brackenmoor Custodian, appointed by ze Department of Ascendant Retrieval, Orientation, and Recovery. I am tasked vith aiding your integration.”
Lupus’s head tilted. “Explain,” he muttered with an arched brow.
Carlos nodded in acknowledgement. “You are in an Ascendant Processing Facility to assess your psychological profile. It’s standard practice for all Ascendants,” he asserted, avoiding eye contact.
Lupus’s heart sank. He ought to have been used to these evaluations, given his time with the orphanage’s therapist. Being reduced to a case number is not an unfamiliar experience, but this instance is unique. A wrong answer would lead to consequences that go far beyond a judgmental look.
“Ze process decides vhether to place you in Thornfell or Brackenmoor,” Carlos added.
Lupus grunted, “Elaborate,” as the protogen steepled his fingers.
To start, Carlos clarified that Thornfell and Brackenmoor were distinct because of their respective industry sectors. He stated Thornfell reserves locations for core occupations such as agriculture, resource extraction, and production. Jobs that uphold the UK’s capitalist structure, keeping it afloat after The Division.
Disgust churned in Lupus’s gut. The Petritans condemned the Vastelerians for accepting these same positions. A central complaint that fuelled The Division was based on deceit. Another falsehood set the stage for cohabitation in the UK to be the scapegoat by the elite.
Brackenmoor had no such jobs. In the second Vastelerian settlement, the government-endorsed tertiary and quaternary jobs.
His journalism background prompted Lupus to imagine himself in a Brackenmoor newsroom, but is that legal? Will the government permit a news agency for Vastelerians? Carlos put a hand on his shoulder, just as his uncertainty was about to turn into worry.
“Zat is Brackenmoor and Thornfell. If you don’t qualify for eider, you’re a Custodian,” asserted the protogen who softened his posture.
“What are Custodians?” Lupus prodded.
“Zey escort emerging Ascendants to zis facility and stop Petritans from infiltrating a Vastelerian settlement,” he answered while his digitised eyes moved down.
Journalistic instincts itched him to inquire how long Vastelerians had operated beyond Brackenmoor and Thornfell. He set that aside as he gathered the facts about the Protogen’s role in his apprehension a month ago.
"So, that’s why you were there?” he grumbled. “You took me away from my best friend.”
“Vhoa, vhoa, vhoa. Zat’s not vhat I vanted, ziomek” the protogen said, holding up his hands to de-escalate the wolf.
“I’m not your buddy,” Lupus mumbled back and exhaled to ask, “Why did you do it?” in bitterness with his gaze darting up to the intercom.
The wolf, though furious, realised Carlos is not the one to blame. Villains are indifferent to the suffering they cause. Yet, Carlos had given him a sympathetic look since the intercom went silent.
“You need to breathe,” he cooed, extending his hands to the wolf. “Your emotions might not have stabilised; you could be-”
“Dangerous?” Lupus cut in, baring his fangs. “Only to people who hurt those I love.”
Carlos pulled his arms back. “I understand, but ask yourself: Is zis how zey would vant to see you?” He challenged with a comforting whisper.
Reluctant to answer, the wolf looked at the floor. He exhaled and slumped down to sit on the bed. Liam could provide solace in such circumstances. He contemplated whether their paths would cross once more. Would his nervous system respond to Liam’s touch? Could Liam catch his teardrop? Perhaps he needed to relearn to catch himself.
“I need to valk you to ze panel in an hour,” the protogen said, crouching down to match his eye level with their visor.
Lupus went silent. He remained bent over on the bed, with his elbows on his knees and his toes tapping the floor. “Why...” he choked out. He cleared his throat and made another attempt. “Why do I need to go?”
“You’re a journalist, zat’s vhy,” Carlos replied. “Zis panel is for Ascendants with backgrounds in ze military, government, or media.”
Carlos faced Lupus. “Is it mandatory?” he questioned.
Protogen nodded; Lupus then inquired, “And, why is the lady next door here still?”
Carlos’s posture shifted as he held Lupus’s gaze. “She’s adapting to her size with Vastelerian training,” he remarked, glancing at the intercom. He then added in a whisper, “But I expect her to be discharged next week.”
Nodding, the wolf shifted his gaze to the wall between him and Clara. “That better be the truth,” Lupus exhaled.
“Yes, it is, but is zat helpful?” Carlos inquired, watching the wolf nod. “Good, do you still vant a moment alone until ve leave for ze panel?”
He whispered “Yes” to Carlos and heard his boots retreat from the room.
Carlos guided him down a corridor lined with white panels, and Petritan walkways affixed to the walls at eye-level. A path encased in cracked glass—a relic of a time he longed to be a part of.
About to turn a corner, Lupus turned around to Clara’s door to mouth: ‘I’m so sorry.’
To soothe his pulse, Lupus listened to the pace of their footsteps as Carlos guided him through the Northern Quadrant. Yet, it did little to ease him when he noticed the door at the end of the corridor.
The protogen halted to enter a code into the keypad. Lupus heard the locks unlock and saw the door move aside. Beyond the well-lit corridor, the room lay shrouded in complete darkness.
“I’m not allowed to enter,” he told Lupus, who turned to meet them. “You go in alone.”
Having heard Carlos, Lupus drew a deep breath before entering the pitch-black room.
Behind him, he heard the doors shut and the locks click. He mused about the possibility of meeting the protogen again until…
In the middle of the room, a lone spotlight flickered on. It cast light on a metal chair, a table, and, to his alarm, a pair of cufflinks. A muted gulp slipped down Lupus’s throat.
A male voice spoke as the wolf moved forward into the blinding light. “Please take a seat, Mister Kintsugi,” commanded the faceless voice.
Lupus's right hand reached to squeeze his left wrist. Upon sitting, he observed a Petritan scaled door affixed to the table’s top right corner.
“Wear the cufflinks,” a second male voice instructed.
Lupus followed instructions. Twiddling his fingers allowed him to manage his anxious tics, even though it was mortifying. A small comfort.
Around five minutes passed. A faint noise of a lock disengaging reached his ears, and the small door opened. In a suit, a male Siamese cat showed up. Holding a clipboard under one arm, he traversed the table, his dress shoes making noise on the metal.
“Afternoon, Mister Kintsugi. Are you secured?” The feline projected up to him.
“Yes, I am,” Lupus replied, though the question demoralised him.
“Good,” the feline replied, taking out his clipboard. “It’s not standard practice, but two reporters will aid the interview. A panel will watch and make notes.”
Lupus froze. He knew how the media operated regarding Ascendant’s, but now he will be on the receiving end.
“Understood,” the wolf grumbled, head and eyes cast down at the table. He expanded his chest, then clasped his hands together.
The wolf’s ears pricked up at the echo of two sets of footsteps travelling the length of the table. He did not have scopophobia, but the Petritan's scrutinising eyes sent his heart fluttering. Once his mind steadied, his eyes looked up.
His stomach turned.
Facing him, Douglas and Tyler stood before a mounted camera. Despite the otter’s refusal to look, the entitled fox’s gaze met him.
The storm inside him returned. A clatter came from the cufflinks.
Journalists maintain objectivity and professionalism, qualities Douglas sacrificed for his ego.
“Sir, I would like to ask if I could have another interviewer,” he asked the feline, while his eyes strayed to Douglas’s broadening grin.
“No.”
Returning his attention to his end of the table, Lupus rested back in the chair. He was the largest person in the room, yet powerless. A juxtaposition that all Ascendants would relate to in his position.
He heard Douglas’s dress shoes getting closer. “Sir, are you ready to begin?” The fox asked with faux professionalism.
Once more, the cufflinks clattered after Lupus took hold of the armrests. Under his breath, he muttered, “Oh, you’re loving this, aren’t you?”
Douglas cocked his head. “Pardon me, would you mind saying that again, sir?” he stated, elongating the polite term sarcastically. “Please ensure you are looking at the camera as you talk.”
The wolf’s head jolted up to lock eyes with Douglas. “Yes,” he said with his claws digging into the metal armrest.
Douglas responded with “Good” and faced Tyler again. “Are we good to go, Ty?”
“Ty?” the otter asked a question, but then concealed himself behind the camera when Lupus looked at him. “Yes, we’re ready. We’re on.”
Lupus flattened his ears. ‘Since when did he go by Ty?! Since when did Douglas and Tyler talk?!’ The wolf hid the depth of his hurt with a sigh.
“Forgive the poor otter; we promoted him to a reporter last month,” Douglas spoke up with a knowing smirk. “Anyway, first question, earlier you stated you stole a Petritan post-growth. Care to detail why you did that?” The fox called up to him in earnest.
Lupus considered the direction of the interview with grimace, given Douglas’s opening question. Bracing for what lay ahead, he gripped the armrests, much like one would on a rollercoaster until it bore claw marks.
“It was for his protection,” Lupus started out, maw pointed to the fox in the middle of the table.
“You state it was for his safety, but from what danger?” Douglas challenged. “You caused all the damage in the vicinity,” he accused with a smooth voice.
Lupus didn’t move. He didn’t twitch, or snarl, or lash out, though he felt every muscle in his back straighten. “No living creature, no Petritan got hurt.”
"Sooooo, Petritan infrastructure does not matter to you?” Douglas cooed up, eyes narrowing as the trap closed in on the wolf. “Taxes of hard-working Petritans had to pay for that.”
“Yes, I know,” he sighed out, ruffling the fox’s head fur. “I tried to be as delicate as I could. The road was fragile—” Lupus stopped himself, but it was too late; he’d fallen into the trap.
“If you knew the road was fragile, why did you walk down it to the great city of London?” He questioned up with an arched brow and a cocky smirk to match.
The wolf went quiet. He sat motionless, except for the slow rise and fall of his chest. Eyes of judgement focused on him. His situation would be dire if he explained his real reason for walking to London and his fury.
“I did not know where to go,” he confessed in a whisper.
With an arrogant smile still on his face, Douglas paced back and forth, his gaze locked on the wolf. “So, if I understand this correctly,” he mused, a claw tip rubbing his chin. “When you grew, you did not understand your strength around, quote unquote, fragile infrastructure.”
Lupus’s ears went down, and his tail lost its stiffness. His head fell in shame as the fox recalled his last interaction with Liam.
After pacing, Douglas paused, expecting the wolf to meet his eyes. When they did, the fox asked, “Is that why the Petritan you stole needed medical help?”
“Douglas, that’s going too far,” Tyler sheepishly interrupted, then switched off the camera.
If not for the harsh screech of Lupus’s claws on the metal armrests, silence would have descended. His shoulders drooped, and his nostrils flared with each heavy breath. A low growl emanated from Lupus and enveloped the fox as he spoke, “What did you just say?”
Douglas showed no reaction. With a disappointed expression, he folded his arms and inclined his head. “Sir,” he replied, maintaining his professional demeanour. “I asked you a question. Did your inability to handle the effects of post-growth result in a Petritan needing medical help?”
Tyler moved away from the camera to approach them. “D-Douglas, please, that’s enough—” he muttered out, still refusing to look at the wolf.
Lupus made a fist with his left hand and set it on the table before Douglas. “Watch yourself, Douglas,” he warned in a low voice. “I am not the same wolf you pushed around at work,” he added, followed by the clink of his cufflinks.
It was true—Lupus wasn’t the same arctic wolf Douglas taunted in the newsrooms and editorial meetings. The factuality of that statement only extended to his physical appearance and emotional state. Underneath it all, he was the same person with the same vulnerabilities Douglas could target.
“I guess it is true what they say,” Douglas snickered and stepped forward. “Ascendants develop a sense of entitlement post-growth—”
“Alright, that’s enough. We have everything we need,” the feline announced and slipped their clipboard back under their arm. “If I may kindly ask—”
“Hypocrite,” Lupus stated with a growing growl. The snarl caused his lips to widen, showing his crystalline fangs. “You don’t know me, speck.”
Lupus cared little for throwing a slur like that around. Belittling a Petritan was not something he did lightly, but Douglas had earned it.
He responded with “I do,” raising his voice a few decibels. Douglas mumbled, “Orphan,” revealing his own fangs.
Lupus glared at the otter positioned by the camera. Tyler recoiled from the wolf’s gaze and moved back from the camera.
Thirty-three days of mastering his enlarged emotions—gone. A spark ignited in his eyes that pierced past the camera to strike the otter’s heart.
His internal storm escalated into a hurricane.
Tyler hadn’t stammered out a defence before Lupus lifted his cuffed hand. It yanked his wrist back moments before standing to overshadow the Petritans on the table. Overhead, the wolf poised fists taller than the Petritans themselves.
Heartache and anger consumed his mind in a suffocating storm. An emotional hurricane obscured his judgment while he hoisted the chair up to extend a clawed finger towards Tyler.
Tyler never had time to react when Lupus’s irritated thumb crushed the camera. Although Tyler stood a few meters from the impact site, he didn’t move, nor could he look over at the damage the wolf’s tree-stump sized digit caused.
“This interview’s terminated. You can take that out of my last paycheck.” Tyler’s eyes widened in shock and disbelief as he watched the remnants of his camera being brushed across his friend’s thigh. Lupus rumbled, “And as for you,” as he moved closer to the otter.
“Lupy, let me explain!” Tyler pleaded out. “I didn’t have a—”
“Nope. It’s Lupus to you, Ty. We’re done,” he scolded, and looked to the feline who was making notes in the background. “You can reject me if you choose, but no matter what I say or do, you’ll still paint me as the villain.”
Meanwhile, Tyler advanced and adjusted his spectacles. “Lupus, please—” he choked out, but the crack in his tone portrayed desperation.
“I said,” Lupus grunted, taking a breath and then releasing it to push Tyler off balance. “Leave me alone, runt,” he snarled and set the chair back down.
A slow clap broke the silence. “Congratulations, Lupy,” Douglas drawled out, dragging out the nickname with a sneer that grated the wolf. He stepped away from the wolf to walk towards the Petritan entrance. “You’ll be on the front page tomorrow at last.”
From the wolf’s chest came a low, guttural growl. Douglas’s smile wavered as he and Tyler went through the door, though he didn’t flinch.
His anger still smouldering, Lupus’s eyes shifted to the last Petritan present. Clutching the clipboard under their arm, they advanced towards him. “Thank you for your cooperation, Mr Kintsugi,” he said. “I believe the assessment was a success.”
Lupus’s chest heaved. Stood still in front of the table as the tempest within him howled grief and anger. He focused on his breathing techniques to sedate the internal hurricane. Everything from deep breaths to splaying his toes on the metal floor. Sensory techniques to anchor himself back to reality.
Soon, the surge inside ebbed. The winds dissipated and cleared his mind to comprehend what had happened. Once clarity seeped in, guilt replaced anger. ‘What have I done?’
Lupus sighed. “Are you going to lock me away?”
“You will stay with Mister Shavinsky as a trainee custodian,” said the feline while the giant door locks behind disengaged. “To uphold the Vastelerian Interaction Public Safety Act, you will support Mister Shavinsky in routine patrols around the Brackenmoor wall—”
The feline stopped when Lupus slid his hands off the table to lean upright. They kept going after the wolf ceased its movement.
“—You are to aid Mister Shavinsky in detaining and transporting any identified Ascendants to this facility. Is that understood?” the feline explained and watched the wolf nod.
“Yes.”
He had no power here; no choice over his new role, too. Being a custodian should have relieved the wolf; after all, it gave him the opportunity to return to Petritan society. Yet, he suspected they wouldn’t let him near it, which would be agonizing. ‘I just want to see my best friend,’ he mouthed and bit his lip.
“Good. Mister Shavinsky’s shift outside Brackenmoor is not until Monday, so you will have the weekend to be debriefed and to prepare for your first patrol. That is all,” they stated as they walked inside the Petritan doorway.
“Understood,” he replied and watched the Petritan disappear behind the door. Once the little lock engaged, he picked himself up and left the room.
I know some people have been eager for this during the month of February, so I hope this is worth the wait. Now that people know what has happened with my wolf sona being an Ascendant, I can say that the reason I picked the schedule is to have Part II of Lupus being macro be at the very start of Macro March and give people time to catch up with Part I. So, here it is, the start of Part II, enjoy!
Start Previous Next
Chapter 11: Restraint
Lupus woke up to scratch the tip of his claw down the wall to mark his thirty-second morning here.
Thirty-three days spent adapting to his Vastelerian body. A month of keeping the storm inside him at bay. He found himself ensnared by the storm’s eye; if he let go…
A measured breath left Lupus to calm the wailing winds inside him. The wind ceased, yet the fire in his gaze persisted.
Narrowed eyes averted to the steel door, to the unused intercom, and the dim light bulb above. Innocent of sunlight, with a neighbouring prisoner to keep him company—a voice of a broken angel.
She spoke in a familiar melody, now warped by vocal cords trembling with whimpers. Calmer than her cries for help before they introduced themselves on day three: Lupus and Clara.
Lupus longed for a spark of joy at seeing Clara again, yet he felt sorrow. Sympathy for a woman who healed the sick and couldn’t heal herself.
A lonesome thought interrupted by the intercom crackling, “Please state your name.”
The wolf’s squinting eyes expanded. Contact from the world beyond the metal walls.
“Please state your full name,” a woman repeated.
“Huh?” Lupus’s morning voice rasped until he cleared his throat to growl, “What do you want?”
“Sir, please state your full name for the record,” she echoed.
“No,” snarled the defiant journalist within him. He pushed himself off the bed to slam his paws on the steel floor. “I won’t tell you anything until I know what happened to my best friend,” he spat.
The intercom hissed. “Sir, you will comply. Please state your full name.”
Lupus remained silent with two fists hanging by his waist.
“Comply, and we will consider telling you,” the woman’s venomous voice stated. “Please state your name.”
Lupus’s fist clenched. His chest heaved until he released a shuddering exhale. “Lupus…” he conceded.
A crackle came from the intercom again. “Your full name, sir,” she requested with dissatisfaction.
Lupus faltered. With arms crossed, he averted his eyes from the intercom.
“Sir, please state your legal name for the record.”
“Lupus Kintsugi,” he replied through gritted fangs.
The speaker crackled again. “Understood,” she stated with a bland voice. “Is that your legal name, sir?”
Lupus’s folded arms tightened their grip on his chest. Lines formed near his nose and eyes. With his wrinkled maw directed downwards, he stated, “Yes,” ready to recall the day he signed the Deed Poll.
“Much appreciated, sir.” A pause preceded the intercom’s return. “Next question: what is the last thing you remember?”
Liam’s motionless body on the roadside came to mind. An image he shied away from in shame, with a head bowed.
“Sir, what is the last thing you remember?”
He inhaled to combat the returning storm disturbing his equilibrium. Anguish and anger welled up. With his fingers digging into his arms to push them away, his claws grazed his skin.
“Sir, please answer the—”
“What happened to my friend?” Lupus asked, blunt. He drew his body inward to imprison the storm raging beneath his skin.
“Sir, please answer my question.”
Breath shortened. He contorted his wrinkled snout before spitting, “I said—” and swung a fist into the wall, then let out a roar, “What happened to my best friend?!”
The lock yielded to a click.
Calmness replaced the storm brewing inside him, and his narrowed eyes opened. Retreating, Lupus stepped back as the door creaked open.
A neutral mouth and glowing amethyst eyes pierced the darkness in the doorway.
Lupus held his ground. The art of self-defence became instinct thanks to London life. He braced himself when the figure stepped into the room.
A military-grade boot struck the metal floor. Rooting out of the shoe– violet furred leg extended up to meet grey cargo shorts. Arms made of tungsten steel hung without stiffness at the sides. After stopping in the room, the protogen crossed their arms over their chest.
When he saw it was the Protogen from the highway, his eyelids tightened. A subtle contraction that betrayed the storm threatening to erupt inside him.
Behind the thin veneer of wrinkled eyes, his mind relapsed to the roadside where the Protogen stood between him and returning Liam home. ‘If he hadn’t stopped me, Liam would have been safe,’ he thought, and anger churned in his stomach.
Despite his efforts to clear his head with breaths, Lupus’s eyes stayed glued to the Protogen.
On the visor, the nanites rippled open to reveal a magenta mouth. “Are you going to comply, Meester Kintsugi?” It questioned with scarce emotion, perhaps too little for even a creature that is half organic.
Lupus buried his vexation. Held it in the stomach where his dread for Liam lay.
The Protogen’s pixelated eyes contracted to thin slits. “Meester Kintsugi,” they uttered with sternness. “I won’t ask a second time. Are you going to comply?”
Knowing better than to show a reaction, Lupus grunted, “Tell me if my friend is safe, and I’ll do it.”
“Not complying vill deny you any chance of an answer,” the protogen shot back.
The reply failed to soothe the wolf’s animosity for the man. Though his patience frayed, he muttered out, “Understood,” to concede.
Circles replaced the Protogen’s slitted eyes. “Good,” they said, while the soft thud of their boots echoed in the room. “You vill answer all questions presented to you. Meanvhile, I vill be your polygraph—”
Lupus knitted his brows. “My what?”
They paused a few paces shy of him. “I vill monitor all your micro-expressions. If you lie, I’ll know. Are you ready for your next question?”
He mumbled, “Yes,” his teeth bared. Lupus’s eyes darted up when the intercom crackled.
“Sir, please state your former occupation.”
“Former—?” Lupus stopped talking when the protogen’s eyes narrowed into slits again. “Sorry. I am, or was, a journalist,” he answered, a pang of regret hitting him when he realised the life built is history.
Once more, the intercom crackled. “Were you aware you had the Vastelerian genes before the growth period started?”
“No,” he sighed. “I knew after the change started.”
“Noted,” the woman replied. “Next question. Did the Petritan named Liam Spencer know of your Vastelerian genetic lineage?”
Lupus hesitated. He took his time, aware that a single wrong answer would condemn Liam as a traitor. Years of media training allowed him to craft a truthful response that would shield the jaguar from the unfair law.
Once he had planned his answer, his posture softened. “He knew when I finished growing,” Lupus replied with an expression void of emotion.
“Follow up question. After completing your growth process, did you kidnap Petritan?” She asked.
Lupus's eyes were heavy with shame. “Yes,” he admitted in a whisper. “I took em’ with me,” he added, hoping to satisfy the lady’s curiosity.
It did not. More questions arose concerning voting history, salary range, and educational background. An evaluation across various metrics. He couldn’t figure out if the purpose was to create a psychological profile, an ideological profile, or a blend of the two. Yet, his worry over Liam’s status overshadowed his concern for the survey’s findings.
Lupus inquired about the purpose of these questions, but his questions went unanswered. The protogen advanced to ensure his compliance. As the booted protogen got closer, his questions ceased.
“Last question,” she said. “Do you pose a threat?”
Startled, Lupus looked at his body for answers. He observed his elevated hands and then scanned down his entire physique. Everything from enhanced strength, durability, and size. A magnified body that turned him into a living natural disaster in the Petritan’s eyes.
Clenching his fingers into his palm, Lupus confessed, “I don’t know.”
Silence stretched long enough for Lupus to expect the repercussions of his answer. He turned to the Protogen for reassurance until the lady interrupted the ambiance.
“That is all,” the woman stated. “Mr Shavinsky, please brief Mr Kintsugi before the panel this afternoon.”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you for your time,” the protogen replied.
The red light on the intercom extinguished a second later. A sigh emanated from the protogen’s vocaliser. “My apologies, ziomek, it’s protocol,” he stated, offering his hand to the wolf.
Lupus responded to the gesture with a raised eyebrow. “Ziomek?” He challenged.
“It means buddy,” Carlos said and straightened his posture to stand at attention. “I’m Carlos Shavinski. A Brackenmoor Custodian, appointed by ze Department of Ascendant Retrieval, Orientation, and Recovery. I am tasked vith aiding your integration.”
Lupus’s head tilted. “Explain,” he muttered with an arched brow.
Carlos nodded in acknowledgement. “You are in an Ascendant Processing Facility to assess your psychological profile. It’s standard practice for all Ascendants,” he asserted, avoiding eye contact.
Lupus’s heart sank. He ought to have been used to these evaluations, given his time with the orphanage’s therapist. Being reduced to a case number is not an unfamiliar experience, but this instance is unique. A wrong answer would lead to consequences that go far beyond a judgmental look.
“Ze process decides vhether to place you in Thornfell or Brackenmoor,” Carlos added.
Lupus grunted, “Elaborate,” as the protogen steepled his fingers.
To start, Carlos clarified that Thornfell and Brackenmoor were distinct because of their respective industry sectors. He stated Thornfell reserves locations for core occupations such as agriculture, resource extraction, and production. Jobs that uphold the UK’s capitalist structure, keeping it afloat after The Division.
Disgust churned in Lupus’s gut. The Petritans condemned the Vastelerians for accepting these same positions. A central complaint that fuelled The Division was based on deceit. Another falsehood set the stage for cohabitation in the UK to be the scapegoat by the elite.
Brackenmoor had no such jobs. In the second Vastelerian settlement, the government-endorsed tertiary and quaternary jobs.
His journalism background prompted Lupus to imagine himself in a Brackenmoor newsroom, but is that legal? Will the government permit a news agency for Vastelerians? Carlos put a hand on his shoulder, just as his uncertainty was about to turn into worry.
“Zat is Brackenmoor and Thornfell. If you don’t qualify for eider, you’re a Custodian,” asserted the protogen who softened his posture.
“What are Custodians?” Lupus prodded.
“Zey escort emerging Ascendants to zis facility and stop Petritans from infiltrating a Vastelerian settlement,” he answered while his digitised eyes moved down.
Journalistic instincts itched him to inquire how long Vastelerians had operated beyond Brackenmoor and Thornfell. He set that aside as he gathered the facts about the Protogen’s role in his apprehension a month ago.
"So, that’s why you were there?” he grumbled. “You took me away from my best friend.”
“Vhoa, vhoa, vhoa. Zat’s not vhat I vanted, ziomek” the protogen said, holding up his hands to de-escalate the wolf.
“I’m not your buddy,” Lupus mumbled back and exhaled to ask, “Why did you do it?” in bitterness with his gaze darting up to the intercom.
The wolf, though furious, realised Carlos is not the one to blame. Villains are indifferent to the suffering they cause. Yet, Carlos had given him a sympathetic look since the intercom went silent.
“You need to breathe,” he cooed, extending his hands to the wolf. “Your emotions might not have stabilised; you could be-”
“Dangerous?” Lupus cut in, baring his fangs. “Only to people who hurt those I love.”
Carlos pulled his arms back. “I understand, but ask yourself: Is zis how zey would vant to see you?” He challenged with a comforting whisper.
Reluctant to answer, the wolf looked at the floor. He exhaled and slumped down to sit on the bed. Liam could provide solace in such circumstances. He contemplated whether their paths would cross once more. Would his nervous system respond to Liam’s touch? Could Liam catch his teardrop? Perhaps he needed to relearn to catch himself.
“I need to valk you to ze panel in an hour,” the protogen said, crouching down to match his eye level with their visor.
Lupus went silent. He remained bent over on the bed, with his elbows on his knees and his toes tapping the floor. “Why...” he choked out. He cleared his throat and made another attempt. “Why do I need to go?”
“You’re a journalist, zat’s vhy,” Carlos replied. “Zis panel is for Ascendants with backgrounds in ze military, government, or media.”
Carlos faced Lupus. “Is it mandatory?” he questioned.
Protogen nodded; Lupus then inquired, “And, why is the lady next door here still?”
Carlos’s posture shifted as he held Lupus’s gaze. “She’s adapting to her size with Vastelerian training,” he remarked, glancing at the intercom. He then added in a whisper, “But I expect her to be discharged next week.”
Nodding, the wolf shifted his gaze to the wall between him and Clara. “That better be the truth,” Lupus exhaled.
“Yes, it is, but is zat helpful?” Carlos inquired, watching the wolf nod. “Good, do you still vant a moment alone until ve leave for ze panel?”
He whispered “Yes” to Carlos and heard his boots retreat from the room.
❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆Carlos guided him down a corridor lined with white panels, and Petritan walkways affixed to the walls at eye-level. A path encased in cracked glass—a relic of a time he longed to be a part of.
About to turn a corner, Lupus turned around to Clara’s door to mouth: ‘I’m so sorry.’
To soothe his pulse, Lupus listened to the pace of their footsteps as Carlos guided him through the Northern Quadrant. Yet, it did little to ease him when he noticed the door at the end of the corridor.
The protogen halted to enter a code into the keypad. Lupus heard the locks unlock and saw the door move aside. Beyond the well-lit corridor, the room lay shrouded in complete darkness.
“I’m not allowed to enter,” he told Lupus, who turned to meet them. “You go in alone.”
Having heard Carlos, Lupus drew a deep breath before entering the pitch-black room.
Behind him, he heard the doors shut and the locks click. He mused about the possibility of meeting the protogen again until…
In the middle of the room, a lone spotlight flickered on. It cast light on a metal chair, a table, and, to his alarm, a pair of cufflinks. A muted gulp slipped down Lupus’s throat.
A male voice spoke as the wolf moved forward into the blinding light. “Please take a seat, Mister Kintsugi,” commanded the faceless voice.
Lupus's right hand reached to squeeze his left wrist. Upon sitting, he observed a Petritan scaled door affixed to the table’s top right corner.
“Wear the cufflinks,” a second male voice instructed.
Lupus followed instructions. Twiddling his fingers allowed him to manage his anxious tics, even though it was mortifying. A small comfort.
Around five minutes passed. A faint noise of a lock disengaging reached his ears, and the small door opened. In a suit, a male Siamese cat showed up. Holding a clipboard under one arm, he traversed the table, his dress shoes making noise on the metal.
“Afternoon, Mister Kintsugi. Are you secured?” The feline projected up to him.
“Yes, I am,” Lupus replied, though the question demoralised him.
“Good,” the feline replied, taking out his clipboard. “It’s not standard practice, but two reporters will aid the interview. A panel will watch and make notes.”
Lupus froze. He knew how the media operated regarding Ascendant’s, but now he will be on the receiving end.
“Understood,” the wolf grumbled, head and eyes cast down at the table. He expanded his chest, then clasped his hands together.
The wolf’s ears pricked up at the echo of two sets of footsteps travelling the length of the table. He did not have scopophobia, but the Petritan's scrutinising eyes sent his heart fluttering. Once his mind steadied, his eyes looked up.
His stomach turned.
Facing him, Douglas and Tyler stood before a mounted camera. Despite the otter’s refusal to look, the entitled fox’s gaze met him.
The storm inside him returned. A clatter came from the cufflinks.
Journalists maintain objectivity and professionalism, qualities Douglas sacrificed for his ego.
“Sir, I would like to ask if I could have another interviewer,” he asked the feline, while his eyes strayed to Douglas’s broadening grin.
“No.”
Returning his attention to his end of the table, Lupus rested back in the chair. He was the largest person in the room, yet powerless. A juxtaposition that all Ascendants would relate to in his position.
He heard Douglas’s dress shoes getting closer. “Sir, are you ready to begin?” The fox asked with faux professionalism.
Once more, the cufflinks clattered after Lupus took hold of the armrests. Under his breath, he muttered, “Oh, you’re loving this, aren’t you?”
Douglas cocked his head. “Pardon me, would you mind saying that again, sir?” he stated, elongating the polite term sarcastically. “Please ensure you are looking at the camera as you talk.”
The wolf’s head jolted up to lock eyes with Douglas. “Yes,” he said with his claws digging into the metal armrest.
Douglas responded with “Good” and faced Tyler again. “Are we good to go, Ty?”
“Ty?” the otter asked a question, but then concealed himself behind the camera when Lupus looked at him. “Yes, we’re ready. We’re on.”
Lupus flattened his ears. ‘Since when did he go by Ty?! Since when did Douglas and Tyler talk?!’ The wolf hid the depth of his hurt with a sigh.
“Forgive the poor otter; we promoted him to a reporter last month,” Douglas spoke up with a knowing smirk. “Anyway, first question, earlier you stated you stole a Petritan post-growth. Care to detail why you did that?” The fox called up to him in earnest.
Lupus considered the direction of the interview with grimace, given Douglas’s opening question. Bracing for what lay ahead, he gripped the armrests, much like one would on a rollercoaster until it bore claw marks.
“It was for his protection,” Lupus started out, maw pointed to the fox in the middle of the table.
“You state it was for his safety, but from what danger?” Douglas challenged. “You caused all the damage in the vicinity,” he accused with a smooth voice.
Lupus didn’t move. He didn’t twitch, or snarl, or lash out, though he felt every muscle in his back straighten. “No living creature, no Petritan got hurt.”
"Sooooo, Petritan infrastructure does not matter to you?” Douglas cooed up, eyes narrowing as the trap closed in on the wolf. “Taxes of hard-working Petritans had to pay for that.”
“Yes, I know,” he sighed out, ruffling the fox’s head fur. “I tried to be as delicate as I could. The road was fragile—” Lupus stopped himself, but it was too late; he’d fallen into the trap.
“If you knew the road was fragile, why did you walk down it to the great city of London?” He questioned up with an arched brow and a cocky smirk to match.
The wolf went quiet. He sat motionless, except for the slow rise and fall of his chest. Eyes of judgement focused on him. His situation would be dire if he explained his real reason for walking to London and his fury.
“I did not know where to go,” he confessed in a whisper.
With an arrogant smile still on his face, Douglas paced back and forth, his gaze locked on the wolf. “So, if I understand this correctly,” he mused, a claw tip rubbing his chin. “When you grew, you did not understand your strength around, quote unquote, fragile infrastructure.”
Lupus’s ears went down, and his tail lost its stiffness. His head fell in shame as the fox recalled his last interaction with Liam.
After pacing, Douglas paused, expecting the wolf to meet his eyes. When they did, the fox asked, “Is that why the Petritan you stole needed medical help?”
“Douglas, that’s going too far,” Tyler sheepishly interrupted, then switched off the camera.
If not for the harsh screech of Lupus’s claws on the metal armrests, silence would have descended. His shoulders drooped, and his nostrils flared with each heavy breath. A low growl emanated from Lupus and enveloped the fox as he spoke, “What did you just say?”
Douglas showed no reaction. With a disappointed expression, he folded his arms and inclined his head. “Sir,” he replied, maintaining his professional demeanour. “I asked you a question. Did your inability to handle the effects of post-growth result in a Petritan needing medical help?”
Tyler moved away from the camera to approach them. “D-Douglas, please, that’s enough—” he muttered out, still refusing to look at the wolf.
Lupus made a fist with his left hand and set it on the table before Douglas. “Watch yourself, Douglas,” he warned in a low voice. “I am not the same wolf you pushed around at work,” he added, followed by the clink of his cufflinks.
It was true—Lupus wasn’t the same arctic wolf Douglas taunted in the newsrooms and editorial meetings. The factuality of that statement only extended to his physical appearance and emotional state. Underneath it all, he was the same person with the same vulnerabilities Douglas could target.
“I guess it is true what they say,” Douglas snickered and stepped forward. “Ascendants develop a sense of entitlement post-growth—”
“Alright, that’s enough. We have everything we need,” the feline announced and slipped their clipboard back under their arm. “If I may kindly ask—”
“Hypocrite,” Lupus stated with a growing growl. The snarl caused his lips to widen, showing his crystalline fangs. “You don’t know me, speck.”
Lupus cared little for throwing a slur like that around. Belittling a Petritan was not something he did lightly, but Douglas had earned it.
He responded with “I do,” raising his voice a few decibels. Douglas mumbled, “Orphan,” revealing his own fangs.
Lupus glared at the otter positioned by the camera. Tyler recoiled from the wolf’s gaze and moved back from the camera.
Thirty-three days of mastering his enlarged emotions—gone. A spark ignited in his eyes that pierced past the camera to strike the otter’s heart.
His internal storm escalated into a hurricane.
Tyler hadn’t stammered out a defence before Lupus lifted his cuffed hand. It yanked his wrist back moments before standing to overshadow the Petritans on the table. Overhead, the wolf poised fists taller than the Petritans themselves.
Heartache and anger consumed his mind in a suffocating storm. An emotional hurricane obscured his judgment while he hoisted the chair up to extend a clawed finger towards Tyler.
Tyler never had time to react when Lupus’s irritated thumb crushed the camera. Although Tyler stood a few meters from the impact site, he didn’t move, nor could he look over at the damage the wolf’s tree-stump sized digit caused.
“This interview’s terminated. You can take that out of my last paycheck.” Tyler’s eyes widened in shock and disbelief as he watched the remnants of his camera being brushed across his friend’s thigh. Lupus rumbled, “And as for you,” as he moved closer to the otter.
“Lupy, let me explain!” Tyler pleaded out. “I didn’t have a—”
“Nope. It’s Lupus to you, Ty. We’re done,” he scolded, and looked to the feline who was making notes in the background. “You can reject me if you choose, but no matter what I say or do, you’ll still paint me as the villain.”
Meanwhile, Tyler advanced and adjusted his spectacles. “Lupus, please—” he choked out, but the crack in his tone portrayed desperation.
“I said,” Lupus grunted, taking a breath and then releasing it to push Tyler off balance. “Leave me alone, runt,” he snarled and set the chair back down.
A slow clap broke the silence. “Congratulations, Lupy,” Douglas drawled out, dragging out the nickname with a sneer that grated the wolf. He stepped away from the wolf to walk towards the Petritan entrance. “You’ll be on the front page tomorrow at last.”
From the wolf’s chest came a low, guttural growl. Douglas’s smile wavered as he and Tyler went through the door, though he didn’t flinch.
His anger still smouldering, Lupus’s eyes shifted to the last Petritan present. Clutching the clipboard under their arm, they advanced towards him. “Thank you for your cooperation, Mr Kintsugi,” he said. “I believe the assessment was a success.”
Lupus’s chest heaved. Stood still in front of the table as the tempest within him howled grief and anger. He focused on his breathing techniques to sedate the internal hurricane. Everything from deep breaths to splaying his toes on the metal floor. Sensory techniques to anchor himself back to reality.
Soon, the surge inside ebbed. The winds dissipated and cleared his mind to comprehend what had happened. Once clarity seeped in, guilt replaced anger. ‘What have I done?’
Lupus sighed. “Are you going to lock me away?”
“You will stay with Mister Shavinsky as a trainee custodian,” said the feline while the giant door locks behind disengaged. “To uphold the Vastelerian Interaction Public Safety Act, you will support Mister Shavinsky in routine patrols around the Brackenmoor wall—”
The feline stopped when Lupus slid his hands off the table to lean upright. They kept going after the wolf ceased its movement.
“—You are to aid Mister Shavinsky in detaining and transporting any identified Ascendants to this facility. Is that understood?” the feline explained and watched the wolf nod.
“Yes.”
He had no power here; no choice over his new role, too. Being a custodian should have relieved the wolf; after all, it gave him the opportunity to return to Petritan society. Yet, he suspected they wouldn’t let him near it, which would be agonizing. ‘I just want to see my best friend,’ he mouthed and bit his lip.
“Good. Mister Shavinsky’s shift outside Brackenmoor is not until Monday, so you will have the weekend to be debriefed and to prepare for your first patrol. That is all,” they stated as they walked inside the Petritan doorway.
“Understood,” he replied and watched the Petritan disappear behind the door. Once the little lock engaged, he picked himself up and left the room.
Category Story / Macro / Micro
Species Wolf
Size 120 x 120px
File Size 936.5 kB
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Honestly, I have a lot to say about A Matter of Perspective - Chapter 11 but I will do my best to summarize each of my thoughts/analysis.
Firstly, your portrayal of the isolation and extremely tight spaces of holding cells despite the now colossal size of Lupus and his neighboring fellow captive, Clara was impressive. You always had a way with words which is what drew me to your writing in the first place.
Then of course, the instant feelings of bitterness I felt as soon as Douglass entered the questioning room and managed to tragically manipulate Lupus' answers. Gosh, my emotions nearly got the drop on me again, but my brain leans more into emotions than intellect after all.
Then there was Carlos, that charming but at times stern and rule bound protogen. Despite my initial mix of shock and anger towards them in Chapter 10 for taking Lupus down and possibly rippinv away the artic wolf's chance to see his friend again hit me right in the heart. Though, you definitely succeeded in making that protogen appear affable in the end. Now he seems like a polite co-worker who I'd always want around when a sour mood gets me. Plus, after reading the description of his appearance, he sounds like he has a beautiful appearance to go with his lovable personality so far. Still, I look forward to learning more about him as Lupus is mentored overtime to learn the ropes of his new "custodian" job.
Overall, a perfect start to not just Macro March but Part 2 as well!
You are awesome Lupus!
Firstly, your portrayal of the isolation and extremely tight spaces of holding cells despite the now colossal size of Lupus and his neighboring fellow captive, Clara was impressive. You always had a way with words which is what drew me to your writing in the first place.
Then of course, the instant feelings of bitterness I felt as soon as Douglass entered the questioning room and managed to tragically manipulate Lupus' answers. Gosh, my emotions nearly got the drop on me again, but my brain leans more into emotions than intellect after all.
Then there was Carlos, that charming but at times stern and rule bound protogen. Despite my initial mix of shock and anger towards them in Chapter 10 for taking Lupus down and possibly rippinv away the artic wolf's chance to see his friend again hit me right in the heart. Though, you definitely succeeded in making that protogen appear affable in the end. Now he seems like a polite co-worker who I'd always want around when a sour mood gets me. Plus, after reading the description of his appearance, he sounds like he has a beautiful appearance to go with his lovable personality so far. Still, I look forward to learning more about him as Lupus is mentored overtime to learn the ropes of his new "custodian" job.
Overall, a perfect start to not just Macro March but Part 2 as well!
You are awesome Lupus!
Thank you for your comment and I will do my best to respond in the same length.
When it came to the holding cells, I really wanted to capture how defeated both characters were. Keeping it secret that Clara was in this episode was difficult, but I wanted to catch people by surprise.
Douglas being in this chapter was a scene I had long awaited to write for months when I began this book, and man I was happy to finally share it. The fact you had a reaction already shows he comes across in the way I want him too.
For Carlos, yes his first impression wasnt great but that is the point. To introduce a character that came across more antagonistic, and the moment the intercom went off, he changed. So I wanted to really capitulate that thete is far more to Carlos than people first believed.
When it came to the holding cells, I really wanted to capture how defeated both characters were. Keeping it secret that Clara was in this episode was difficult, but I wanted to catch people by surprise.
Douglas being in this chapter was a scene I had long awaited to write for months when I began this book, and man I was happy to finally share it. The fact you had a reaction already shows he comes across in the way I want him too.
For Carlos, yes his first impression wasnt great but that is the point. To introduce a character that came across more antagonistic, and the moment the intercom went off, he changed. So I wanted to really capitulate that thete is far more to Carlos than people first believed.
I feel bad for the fractured if not fully broken friendship between Lupus and Tyler. I hope they can reconcile.
But that Douglas is living up to a fox's bad reputation of being shifty and untrustworthy. Pricks like him are the reason why the media can't be trusted. It's not the media itself that's bad. It's the people running the media that controls whether it's good or bad. And that Douglas should not be in a place of media manipulation. If you ask me, he should be the one serving a prison sentence or at least fired from his job for media manipulation for self gain.
But I like how through all this, Lupus is still thinking of Liam's safety
But that Douglas is living up to a fox's bad reputation of being shifty and untrustworthy. Pricks like him are the reason why the media can't be trusted. It's not the media itself that's bad. It's the people running the media that controls whether it's good or bad. And that Douglas should not be in a place of media manipulation. If you ask me, he should be the one serving a prison sentence or at least fired from his job for media manipulation for self gain.
But I like how through all this, Lupus is still thinking of Liam's safety
I feel like the rift between Lupus and Tyler is meant to be the sort of thing that the audience internally shouts at Lupus about. Tyler's reaction when Douglas calls him "Ty" suggests that Tyler is just as surprised about it as Lupus, but Lupus's mental state is such that he either misses or ignores Tyler's genuine reluctance and sympathy toward him.
For contrast, notice how differently Lupus responds to Carlos. Lupus feels wronged by him too, but Lupus picks up on Carlos's sympathy. There are several differences contributing to the more positive outcome:
Lupus isn't as agitated, since Douglas isn't present.
Carlos is a Vastelerian like Lupus, rather than a "lucky" Petritan who doesn't have to deal with what Lupus is going through.
Carlos is the same size as Lupus, so Carlos isn't afraid of him.
Carlos knows what to say to calm Lupus down, unlike the young and inexperienced Tyler.
Basically, it feels relatively one-sided when Lupus denounces Tyler, like it's just the product of Lupus's unstable emotions. I'm sure it hurt Tyler, but I think there's a good chance that things will go differently if they meet again when Lupus is thinking clearly.
For contrast, notice how differently Lupus responds to Carlos. Lupus feels wronged by him too, but Lupus picks up on Carlos's sympathy. There are several differences contributing to the more positive outcome:
Lupus isn't as agitated, since Douglas isn't present.
Carlos is a Vastelerian like Lupus, rather than a "lucky" Petritan who doesn't have to deal with what Lupus is going through.
Carlos is the same size as Lupus, so Carlos isn't afraid of him.
Carlos knows what to say to calm Lupus down, unlike the young and inexperienced Tyler.
Basically, it feels relatively one-sided when Lupus denounces Tyler, like it's just the product of Lupus's unstable emotions. I'm sure it hurt Tyler, but I think there's a good chance that things will go differently if they meet again when Lupus is thinking clearly.
I honestly can’t fully convey the emotions I felt while reading — the tension, the immersion, that sense of experience.
This absolutely deserves more attention.
The continuation feels fresh, almost like a new narrative approach for the reader, and that’s really cool.
The pause between episodes is a great idea — now I know exactly what I’ll be looking forward to this month, and the ones after it too.
Happy MacroMarch, Lupus Kitsune ^w^
I’m sure this story will bring you an even wider audience — people who are grateful and inspired by your work.
“We are a way for the cosmos to know itself.”
— Carl Sagan, Cosmos
This absolutely deserves more attention.
The continuation feels fresh, almost like a new narrative approach for the reader, and that’s really cool.
The pause between episodes is a great idea — now I know exactly what I’ll be looking forward to this month, and the ones after it too.
Happy MacroMarch, Lupus Kitsune ^w^
I’m sure this story will bring you an even wider audience — people who are grateful and inspired by your work.
“We are a way for the cosmos to know itself.”
— Carl Sagan, Cosmos
Oh wow you are ever so sweet. Yeah I really wanted to hit it off strong so that way people know, while it is the start of Part 2, the pace and stakes are the same, and will only go up from here. Yeah and I find the pauses a good way for people to catch up without being spoiled.
Gosh I wanna hug Lupus so bad now.
If I were my OC (a macro three tailed kitsune by the way) I would one hundred percent did all I could to give him emotional support during the lockdown.
Then the guilt trip by Douglas oh my god...he deserves so much to become an ascendant and suffer what Lupus felt now.
In the fantasy setting my OC lives in there is a stone capable of changing the size of macros back to normal even if for just some hours at best and while your world setting is much more realistic then mine so I know this isn't an option, if it were my OC would 100% offer Lupus one
If I were my OC (a macro three tailed kitsune by the way) I would one hundred percent did all I could to give him emotional support during the lockdown.
Then the guilt trip by Douglas oh my god...he deserves so much to become an ascendant and suffer what Lupus felt now.
In the fantasy setting my OC lives in there is a stone capable of changing the size of macros back to normal even if for just some hours at best and while your world setting is much more realistic then mine so I know this isn't an option, if it were my OC would 100% offer Lupus one
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