Of all the changes Rinzler's experienced, the sense of smell is probably the most distracting. Every cycling of air brings new perceptions: food, prey (chase/hunt), cat (fight), users. Even structures like metal have their own trace. In its own way, it's not unlike his scanning functions... with one crucial difference. Those, Rinzler knows how to use.
Still, for some things? The inbuilt directives offer a strong hint. He's making his way down the (much too large) hallways when the whoosh of a door ahead brings a rush of data through the air. Big is the first impression, though he's not sure how. Sweat and hair follow after, linked to a bizarre blend of chemicals that seem personal to the frame. But there's something else, too, an undercurrent that spikes through his new brain.
Threat threat threat—!
He needs to go. Needs to run (up, back!), to move, to get away—but Rinzler never runs, never panics, and the tangle of fear jars sharply against his own disgust at recognizing it. He's not scared. (Huge, danger—) He's not weak enough to run. He's the predator; he's the best. He kills threats, and certainly he's not going to flee.
So when Daryl strides around the corner? He'll find an interesting obstacle in his path. It's tiny, under half a foot in height. It's glowing, in strange, patchy markings, red-orange against black. And despite its size, shape, and any metric of sense... the bonsai kitten is doing its absolute best to match the werewolf's growl.
ii!
Still, for some things? The inbuilt directives offer a strong hint. He's making his way down the (much too large) hallways when the whoosh of a door ahead brings a rush of data through the air. Big is the first impression, though he's not sure how. Sweat and hair follow after, linked to a bizarre blend of chemicals that seem personal to the frame. But there's something else, too, an undercurrent that spikes through his new brain.
Threat threat threat—!
He needs to go. Needs to run (up, back!), to move, to get away—but Rinzler never runs, never panics, and the tangle of fear jars sharply against his own disgust at recognizing it. He's not scared. (Huge, danger—) He's not weak enough to run. He's the predator; he's the best. He kills threats, and certainly he's not going to flee.
So when Daryl strides around the corner? He'll find an interesting obstacle in his path. It's tiny, under half a foot in height. It's glowing, in strange, patchy markings, red-orange against black. And despite its size, shape, and any metric of sense... the bonsai kitten is doing its absolute best to match the werewolf's growl.