Del’s eyes were on her translator, so the longing look went by completely, but Sable watched the deathclaw with curiosity, following in slow paces behind the group, eyes widening behind the mask at the pleading, the signalling best it could.

“I don’t think they want more food.” The leader murmured, stepping forward, “Just how smart are you, hm?” The words were uttered towards Blake, soft.

How smart? How smart? 

She huffed, agitated, tail lashing side to side before she stalked forward. Finding a good, somewhat clean stretch of wall by a light source was tricky, but eventually she found it. 

Her claws slid free with a near slink click and she reached up. 

There had been monitors, in the cage. In the early days, before she had dedicated her life to rebelling, she’d been forced to watch old children’s nursery rhymes. Taught to read, and write to an extent. Numbers, basic mathematics; her humanity had allowed her to soak up the knowledge like sponge to water. 

It was easy to carve a message into the wall.

Teach me the hand language please. I cant speak.

Del pulled out a small pouch, drawing out a tiny bit of dog jerky (which was morbidly hilarious given Simon’s condition, but she was hardly going to give yao guai meat). ‘Tell them to eat it slowly, or they’ll get sick,’ she signed, before pressing it into their hands with a tiny nod, before backing away.

'Chew thoroughly,’ she warned, the Wolf a little more nervously than her.

She watched the movements of the mute carefully, eyes trained on their hands with undisguised longing, a whine in her chest. Even the offered meat didn’t sway it. 

Her stomach clenched hard on itself, and it took twenty years of unbroken willpower to keep from wolfing the entire stick of dried meat down. She sniffed it over, curiously; Dog, she noted, and saliva flooded her mouth.

At least chewing was instinctual. She nodded at the nervous instructions delivered before putting the piece of meat in her mouth. The flavor was spicy, almost, the texture chewy. In any case, it was the most delicious thing she’d ever had. 

Her eyes closed from the sheer bliss of it, a purr rumbling from her lean, naked frame. Once the meat had been thoroughly chewed into paste she swallowed it down, wincing. She’d been on a nutrient rich milky slurry when she had been younger, and this was mostly the same. 

The meat finished, she slowly reached out and touched the mute’s hands with her claws retracted, whining low again.

Teach me, teach me, please...

Sable watched the interactions from her spot. The movement were definitely impressive as it was - for a creature bound to a cage for all of its life, as far as the group knew. She stepped outside, over bits of glass, casting a glance over to her wolves, the group approaching her, eyes on the deathclaw, curious.

Hints of whines, ones they didn’t bother to hide as Slate did, made themselves known, though the men didn’t dare step past Sable and closer to the group’s new friend.

“We might want to be careful, if they’ve never been outside, and with how long the diet’s been liquid… Their eyes and stomach might hurt.” She pointed out, “But then again, deathclaws are nothing if not adaptable…”

A motion with her hand, as to get the wolves to bring some food forward, her attention shifting towards Blake, “Are you hungry?” She asked.

For the most part, she kept her eyes on the group lingering behind the packleader with muted interest. They were submissive enough, she supposed, though she was no pure slave to her instincts. Well, not anymore; now that freedom was in reach she no longer reacted on the animal feeling of fight-or-flight. 

It was liberating, in that sense. 

The packleader approached her and offered her food, which made her shudder and glance back into the cage for just a moment. Feeding time meant the Machine, but...she didn’t think that’s what it meant.

One huge, clawed hand settled over her thin and empty stomach. After a moment’s hesitation, she nodded again.

‘Yeah.’

Brindle approached the Deathclaw again, more sure not that she knew that becoming a bite-size snack wasn’t in her near future.

“Would you like to go with us?” Her ears perked forward listening hard for an answer. She gestured to the hall that led beyond the lab, and then to the small group. Brindle was sure the experiment could smell the fresh air as well as she could. “Go with us?”

It was a bit demeaning to be talked to like a child, but she would not take much offense to it. It wasn’t their fault that they didn’t know she suffered a lack of vocal chords. 

She purred as her answer, bobbing her head again and dipping down to brush her other cheek against the Rat’s in gratitude. The Rat, the Mute, and the packleader she knew to be Sable; they were all her favorites as far as new people came.

Brindle noted Del’s gesture and nodded, flinching as the snips broke through the second of three straps. “Some kind of nutrient gel, most likely. They had it before the bombs fell.”

She circled around the experiment, patting a shoulder before she started on the last strap.

“Based on the state of this metal, I imagine no one has been here to check in person for a while.”

There was a sharp snap, then a clatter as the last chain broke, the muzzle clattering to the stained concrete floor.

The final strap fell and she reacted, shaking her head hard to dislodge the device. The clattering sound it made echoed in the room and inside of her head, sweeter than anything she’d ever heard. 

Immediately she turned, ducking her head down to the Rat to sniff curiously, brows furrowed. 

Human, Rat. An experiment, like her then. But had they been grown in the lab, or were they brood of a packmother? She whuffed, low, and bumped her cheek against the other’s in a grateful gesture.

She didn’t dare to look at the Machine behind her. Too many bad memories. 

Careless of the glass and any other dangers, she whipped forward on all fours and bounded through the hole in the glass, claws scraping against the ground for traction as she waited Outside, patiently waiting for the others to follow. 

Brindle edged closer, tail flicking back and forth nervously as she stretched up to check the back of the muzzle. Even kneeling, the experiment was much taller than the rat.

“The buckles are corroded.” She said, disgust evident in her voice. “We’re going to have to get it off another way.”

The rat started rustling around in the tools scattered around the space - probably left there by the bots that ran this facility, if the unusual shapes of some of them were any indication. Eventually she same up with a wire-cutter, a bit like a pair of pliers but with sharp edges meant to cut wire. If she was lucky, it would work on the metal mesh that made up the straps of the muzzle. Tension strength didn’t automatically translate to resisting being cut, after all.

She made soothing sounds as she approached, patting gently at the side of the towering creature’s head before sliding the tool underneath the strap and squeezing. It took two or three tries, Brindle’s hands faltering every time the experiment shifted or made noise, but eventually the first strap broke away with a snap. The trader waited with bated breath for some sort of terrifying reaction, but when it didn’t happened she took a deep breath… and started in on the next strap.

She bowed her head lower when the Rat-- that’s what that scent is--approached with something in their hand, to allow them better access. So far no one had approached with intent to hurt or harm, and even if they had been the only things she had seen in her entire life, she decided to put her trust in them.

It had been rewarded with the destruction of the Machine, after all. 

The tool was worked under the first strap and she quivered at the sound of metal against metal, tail lashing side to side. The second try had her growling deeply in fearful warning, and the third made her quills rise again, but then that was the end of it. 

The first strap was slackened. She huffed, rumbling with pleasure, and as the mask slid off partially to reveal her face, she turned grateful golden eyes on the Rat and purred in thanks. Inhaling for patience, she sat still as the other strap was worked on.

Brindle peeked around the edge of their makeshift doorway, white ears twitching as she attempted to piece together an image of what was going on in the room. Unlike the others, she had been born this way - a mutant, and one with origins in Big MT, if the experiments on the others were any indication. How long ago had one of her ancestors escaped this place, marked forever in the way her companions were now?

As this hulking creature was.

That was why she hadn’t retreated to the control room with Simon and the wolves. Curiosity tugged her to investigate this place, to rip it apart and find the secrets hidden at the seams. What she was finding was more and more horror.

She inched a little more into the opening, ears perking forward at a low rumble. The experiment was clearly smart enough to understand that this was a rescue, kneeling down and displaying meek behaviors that Brindle recognized instinctively.

“You’re safe.” She agreed, echoing Del’s words just in case they weren’t clear enough. “Wanna leave?”

Simple would probably be best, she had no idea how much language the poor thing knew after being locked up in here.

Safe.

It was impossible to be safe in such a place, with such a device clamped tight around her head. The muzzle--the mask, helmet, whatever it was called--would prevent her from doing much of anything. Horns filed, body thinned and weakened from malnutrition; she was in no state to be without the defense of her own teeth.

The muzzle needed to go, but she didn’t have the way to break it.

She looked between the small one inching forward, and Sable. With a grunt, she lowered her head and bumped it against Sable’s hands, trying to show the back of the muzzle. 

If the female would see it, well, that was anyone’s guess. 

The beast had to be at least eight feet in height, and it was starting to dawn on Sable that this might be a grave mistake. The woman glanced back, brief and quick, as if warning the others to stay away - startling the creature wouldn’t do anyone any favors - and glanced back at Blake.

“Are you going to hurt us?” Her voice didn’t crack, confidence still clear, faking it was one of the few things she was good at, and the mask helped hide the frown, the trembling lips, the pale cheeks.

“We can.. Get you out. I’m Sable.” She added, in a murmur, tone low, comforting still.

Hurt?

She tilted her head to the side, conveying confusion that she couldn’t voice or really show. Despite the muzzle on the other one--Sable, she’d file that away--she could smell the fear and her sharp eyes picked up the slight trembling in Sable’s limbs.

A low rumble issued through her chest. She shook her head side to side, and even kneeled down. She still practically towered over the one known as Sable, but she supposed this was as friendly as company would get. 

Besides, a way out? She was no beast. 

Still; she eyed the crowd behind Sable with that same, cautious stare, quills twitching up as gold bored down on them.

Sable gave Del an approving nod, stepping forward. Distance was kept from the beast, for all the fear could only result in it reaching, clawing, even if the wish to help was there. She raised her hands, as to show them empty, eyes reflecting only confidence.

Animal or no, it was far from civilized. Wildness ran deep in those golden eyes, and Sable was not about to test it.

“Can you understand me?” She asked, slow, quiet, voice muffled by her own mask, “Can you nod?”

Someone approached, almost appeared to teleport thanks to the swirling red. Her muscles tensed to lash out, but the command never made it to her heavy limbs. Instead she sat back and let the figure creep closer, her breathing slowing down. 

The dosage had been a purely diluted shot. It wouldn’t last long. 

She focused on the figure, inhaling their scent. 

Human, mostly. Snake and Dog--no, Coyote? Nightstalker, her instincts purred against her ear. She shuddered and let out a low, warning groan. She knew that she was saved--somehow--but the combination of new stimuli had her on edge. 

Then she saw the muzzle. Or, at least, something like it. She went still, a predator’s analyzing gaze leering over the creature. They asked a question and she inhaled again.

Tested her muscles. They flexed. 

She stood slowly, lumbering to her feet. The needles pulled out of her flesh and left oozing, aching circles of red blood behind on her skin. The quills on her back flexed as she hunched, rumbling low in her chest. Her tail swiped side to side, adjusting her balance as she loomed over the creature.

She stared down and nodded deeply, practically bobbing her head up and down.

Del gave Sable a look, question clearly written on her face, but moved to stand by the glass all the same, readying out the axe she’d found and hefting it to her shoulder. Letting them out seemed too risky, but at the very least, she wasn’t going to stand by and let… whatever was going to happen in that far chair, happen.

“We found ‘em!” Turk popped his head out a door. “Should we-”

‘Wait.’ Del’s signal cut him off, and she held it there, eyes watching as the prisoner was dragged back, a fight for every inch. When they’d been dragged back a foot more, Del signed a quick ‘Now!’ before tightening her grip on the axe and swinging.

The cage had been built with blunt force in mind. But it had been built for force from the inside, and not for a yao guai-spliced mercenary wielding a sharp edge on the outside. 

Glass cracked, the axe part-way through, and Del pulled back, swung again with all her might, and again, bringing down the wall shattering piece by shattering piece.

A few stray bits cut her skin, but nothing hit the others, neither her companions, nor the now prone form on the other side of the broken crystal wall.

She tossed her head, snorting and grunting with blind and instinctive panic as she heard the glass cracking, shattering. With the first blow, scents hit her in a wave. 

The overload and the sedative combined made the world slow to a hazy crawl, everything dragging. The alarm had been silenced but the red light still pulsed like a dying, beating heart. 

The chair held firm, needles digging into her spine, the backs of her knees, and the nape of her neck, before wilting beneath her weight as it was powered down from the outside. The sedative was still working in her veins but her eyes still went wide as she heard a near silent click, the shackles around her body popping open. 

She was...free? 

She breathed heavily, panting from exhaustion, and lay there in shock.

Free...

Those scientists were insane.

Enough that their experiments had left Sable a mess - spliced with Nightstalkers, eyes now seeing all too well, body giving off weird sounds, both dog and snake-like, in rattlings and whines, and the odd way she could feel her ears twitch with sounds she’d yet to grow used to registering.

No, that wasn’t all. They had to explore the scientists’ playground, go through whatever horrors they created, in order to escape.

Dark hallways were a common sight, full of curious lights and schematics and old, discarded tools, but this one was different - glass cages, transparent, lined each side, and all seemed empty.

Seemed, being the keyword.

One step towards the end of the hallway and a loud bang echoed through, shaking all of them - Sable, Slate, Del and Brindle, and a few of her wolves - to the very core. A masked creature, huge, and humanoid, the hunch and the claws scratching against the glass very distinct.

A deathclaw. But not all.

“… Oh dear..”

Footsteps echoing. Scents growing. Old and new and wrong, mixed in a jumble. Even through the mask-like muzzle and the cage’s heavy, fortified glass she could smell Them. 

She didn’t know who They were, of course. All she knew was a voice on an intercom and the Machine who gave her nutrient shots and sedatives. 

The anger fueled her enough to lunge against the glass, slamming ineffectually against it when she head the footsteps of the Others on the Outside. Her claws screeched against the pane and a bestial roar bellowed from the organ underneath her ribs, rattling the cage’s walls. Had her horns not been so filed down daily, she might have even been able to use them to pierce the scarred surface.

Save me! She roared again as the alarm blared red above her in the cage, the chains attached to the bands around her thighs, biceps, wrists, ankles, and throat starting to retract. Scrambling, straining against the binds. 

The Machine would follow once she was pinned to the special chair at the far end. 

Save me, please!

“Mmmhm. Beat it, bruh.” 

Hellfire || closed @ askblakebellafaunus, @ cinderwby // Notre Dame!AU

"W-Wait!" She called out, giving chase, "P-Please, just tell me why! I was so worried about you after-after the festival-" She gasped, panting as she skipped steps to keep up, tripping over her skirts and falling hard at the top. She scrambled to her feet, undeterred by the swelling pain growing behind her bruised forehead.

Blake was-so fast, so agile, moving so gracefully.

She was used to running away.

"Please, Blake-!” She choked out, bangles ringing against her wrists as she caught her breath against a banister.

The sound of a body colliding with stone made her stop, freeze in anxiety Unbidden, she thought of the stage and the milk, the soft touches as Ruby had cleaned her. 

She'd called for her. She'd called her name. 

"...Dammit," Blake swore beneath her breath. She turned, slowly, and bit her lip at the sight. Ruby, hunched over and panting, a bruise blooming beneath the fringe of her bangs. 

Dammit.

"Please," it was a whisper. "Mother is already furious at you for helping me. I don't want to bring my share of her wrath on you too. Besides, I...I don't deserve..."

She looked away, guilty.

"I don't deserve someone like you chasing after me. You're too kind, too good."

Hellfire || closed @ askblakebellafaunus, @ cinderwby // Notre Dame!AU

Ruby blinked as Zwei bounded silently out of her arms, trotting up to someone crouched on the railing. She gave a start as she realized who it was.

"It’s…you…" She trailed listlessly, before a sigh of relief caught in her chest, color rising in spots to her cheeks. "…I found you! Ohh, thank goodness-! You’re not hurt, are you?" She placed a gentle hand upon her shoulder, leaning over the railing as she tried to peer around at her face.

"Are you hiding too?"

She caught the scent of dog a split second before she heard a voice, soft and breathless. Blake's ears perked up in recognition before folding back in sudden panic, her shoulder jumping under the gentle press of a hand. 

Startled, Blake whirled about with a cry caught and smothered in her throat; years of jumping and spinning and flying through the supports of the belltower and her tail were all that kept her balance. 

Now that her secret had been revealed, Blake let her traits show. What did it matter, in the end? The girl--Ruby--would hate her, everyone hated her. 

"You--no, no, I can't see you--" 

She hissed softly at the dog grinning expectantly up at her, tail weaving back and forth over the air. 

"I have to--I should go." It was a rasp. "I have to go, now. D-do not follow me, Ruby!"

She leaped over the dog and ran, bare feet slapping against stone. She needed to get to the towers, needed to--to remember her schedule, she needed to ring the bells.

The scent of rose oil haunted her nose.  

Hellfire || closed @ askblakebellafaunus, @ cinderwby // Notre Dame!AU

"I don’t understand, Zwei-" She started, eyes widening as her voiced reverberated much farther than she expected, "-I thought this was a place of warmth." She smiled serenely as she gazed at the marble statues and grand, high ceilings. "I guess not like warm-warm though. Sorry boy-!" She scooped him into her arms and walked along, exploring.

Her situation wasn’t so bad. She’d just have to lay low until things simmered down and then she’d return to her family. This sort of thing was not uncommon. It’d be fine.

She’d be lying if she didn’t admit to a certain homesickness though. And something about this place creeped her out; the reverent, low murmurs of many people were quiet, but echoed far and filled her ears every moment. It was cold, and night was coming, and she could feel the glares of the more affluent upon her as she passed by with a polite ‘pardon, ma’am’ or a lowering of her head. Instinctively, she moved higher, out of the way, watching people move between the pews and towards altars and into, out of confessionals. Zwei licked her chin reassuringly and tilted his head.

He knew there was a lot on her mind.

Ruby wondered what had become of the bellringer-she’d saved her life, and then-

Ruby carried Zwei up whatever stairs they could find, a small sense of purpose burning to life in her chest, humming a soothing melody to her friend and to Zwei, as she went.

In the end, her room was too frightening and silent to stay. She'd see Mother enter the cathedral anyway; Blake didn't intend to sit in the confessionals and speak softly with the deacon tonight. She'd remain at the top of the stairs, perched upon a railing and balcony that overlooked the pews and entrance. The balcony itself was cloaked in shadow, and kept her hidden from any prying eyes.

Good. Blake shivered as her still damp hair chilled the back of her neck. She didn't...she didn't want to be seen, anymore. 

The comfort of murmured prayers no longer soothed Blake as they once had. She knew that soft, faithful voices could hide vicious curses, crueler words still, and she was still sore from the revelation in more ways than one.

Lost in thought, she had neglected to keep an ear out for the off chance of someone ascending the steps to her hiding space. 

"How could I have been so stupid," she murmured beneath her breath, curling into a ball right there on the railing, face buried against her knees. "How could I..."