People took speaking for granted, that is what Tyson told himself. It was something you learned so early on you really couldn't remember a time when it hadn't been natural. Well unless you were mute or deaf or something. He didn't think anyone really understood it until they suddenly lost something so engrained in their subconscious. Tyson was now on the other side of the fence, so to speak, or at least he tried to. Since his transformation, he had lost the ability to form words like a normal person. A muzzle just wasn't built to make the shapes and sounds that a human mouth was. His throat was different as well, and while he had managed to become somewhat understandable, the growls and slurs that permeated his speech pattern made him sound like a blender.  And so he was having to relearn one of the most basic skills in the world.

"hrrr quuuue, ahrrrrrrrr, eeeessssss, hrrr teeeeee..." Tyson said, trying to form each individual letter. He was trying to form his mouth around each one, hoping to figure out how his new mouth worked so he could annunciate properly. Rs were especially difficult, tending to stick and linger in his throat like a growl. He felt like a kindergartener trying to figure things out, which was embarrassing enough. Luckily he at least had solitude on his side, an empty classroom where he could work on this without people laughing at his attempts. It was bad enough with them lingering around his door gossiping about his meltdown. He was still in the same room as before, refusing to let the faculty change out any of the ruined furniture and sheets and turning down a move into a new room. He didn't want a new room, he would likely destroy it like the first with the way his temperament was since that day. He resolved to stay there, regardless of the state until he felt better, if only to save any extra costs to the institute, but more to not have a unbroken mirror he had to look into to remind him how animalistic he looked.

Things really hadn't gotten any better since then. He was in a perpetual foul mood and dealing poorly with the revelation of his new status quo. He was more prone to outbursts and had taken it out on more then his fair share of property inside and outside the institute. Students had the sense to steer clear of him, though the fact that they were scared of him didn't really help him feel any better about all this.

Cafas was looking for Maya. His natural assumption was the library, which was how he ended up walking past an ajar door with a familiar voice floating through it. Tyson sounded to be practicing the alphabet, which seemed odd. He peered in, because he was just too curious for his own good. You'd have thought being thrown across a room would temper that.

Ooooh, he's practicing speaking.

Cafas should probably have come to that conclusion well before, but he just never knew what to expect with Mansion residents. The array of represented backgrounds was staggering.

The X-man sighed. It didn't feel right to not at least check if he wanted help. He pushed the door open and slid in as quietly as he could manage, not wanting to disturb the Wolf's exercises. t sounded like he was having some degree of trouble with Rs. The intermittent growls were also affecting the fluidity of his speech. Cafas set down the silly potted flower he had bought on a desk.

I'll just catch her tonight.

"Want what little help I can offer Tyson?" Cafas sat on the edge of a desk, leaning back on his hands. One or two prior discussions with students of a similar mutational nature to Tyson had left him with a piece or two of advice. Actually, he should probably speak to one of them, if he hadn't scared them all off. The rumours going around suggested he might have.

"hrrrr Ahrrrrrrrr, rrrrrrrrrrr arrrrrrrrrrr, ahrrrrrrrrrr," Tyson repeated a few times trying to focus on his problem area. His throat just refused not to roll it into a growl. It was infuriating how little control he had over his own body. He leaned against one of the desks, gripping the wood as if by doing so he could somehow stabilize his vocal cords, closing his eyes as he tried again, "AAAHHHHRrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr," it came out worse then before. He huffed in frustration, before a sound made his ear twitch. Someone had come it, and the metallic smell quickly clued him in on who. He wasn't sure what he should do, last time he had seen Cafas he had thrown him across the room. The man seemed to have taken it in stride, but it was still an elephant in the room. He tensed up a little, wondering if he stood still he would leave.

"Want what little help I can offer Tyson?"

Ohhhhhhh crud, he had been listening in. Tyson felt a wave of embarrassment rush through him. He supposed he deserved that. He was just glad his fur hid any change in coloration that came with it, for he was sure he would be red. "hhrrrrrr, sorrrrrrry forrr...." he started, ashamed of his behavior, he hadn't turned to look at Cafas yet, both guilt and embarrassment mixing to make it so he couldn't look the man in the eyes just yet. He was not sure if his offer was genuine or not, or if Cafas was just teasing him, after all, he didn't have to work around a muzzle to saw what was on his mind. If he was just teasing, Tyson supposed he would just take his medicine and bare with it.

"hhrrrrrr, sorrrrrrry forrr...."

"Forget it, it was a couple of bruises. Just try not to make a habit of it." Cafas shrugged, an ineffectual gesture to Tyson's back. The wolf hadn't even broken any of his bones, unlike Danica, who, come to think of it, had also thrown him into a wall. Did he just have one of those faces? Maybe he was just a magnet for getting tossed around the place. Goliath and the META bot, now Tyson and Danica.

I really need to stop getting thrown around the place.

The X-man fiddled idly with the desk where his fingers touched it, picking at either a crack or some graffiti, he couldn't tell without looking. He mulled over Tyson's apology a little as he did so, trying to figure out if it was genuine. That wasn't exactly Cafas' forte, but he figured, lacking any evidence to the contrary, that it was. Hopefully it was a one time outburst, and not his regular response to anger.

It never feels good having to arrest Mansionites.

"Try, what was it? Hitting a high pitch, or something like that. Sorry, I've really only had conversations in passing, but I'm fairly certain someone said that helped them. Also, while it may be a embarrassing, you have to use your voice to get used to it." By no means an expert in mutant speech therapy, Cafas was determined to give it a go, on the vague hope that it would help Tyson accept his new body more.

He was glad to hear he hadn't seriously injured Cafas in his outburst. Unfortunately he seemed much more violent since his transformation. Cafas was probably lucky compared to a few. He hadn't told anyone about the incident in the city, and wasn't planning on it. He still felt guilt over it, and never really found out about the aftermath wither the people he mauled had recovered or not. He supposed that if it ended badly there would be people coming for him, but so far nothing, so he could only hope things turned out well. He gave a short huff, still a little sore over the fact that he couldn't make the promise not to make a habit of it. He wasn't always in control of himself, so making that promise was the same as lying. He already lied to himself enough without that.

Try hitting a high note? He didn't exactly know how that was supposed to help, but at this point he was desperate to make any type of progress. He thought about it, how it felt before. He wasn't a choir boy or anything, but he'd of course sung before and found his range to be somewhat a baratone, and could remember how it felt when he tried going above his range and his vocal cords were tight and and his voice cracked as he tried going beyond his normal range. He focused on that feeling, tightening his throat as much as he could and imagining he was trying to hit an alto range. "Hr a-ayy, be-ee, cee..." he said, then stopped in surprised as his attempt resulted in a much clearer, less snarling sound. He tried again, trying on his more troubled area, "Hr a-rrrr, arrrrr, rrr," he still had a little trouble, but it was still a lot better then past attempts. "Hr H-how is this?" he tried, trying to hold onto the technique as long as he could. It was very different, but it sounded like it was working.

Cafas nodded, settling in a little further to his lean. "Seems like it's working. Certainly more fluid." Tyson was quickly changing Cafas' perception of the simplicity of speech. It just seemed so natural to him, he'd barely considered why so few animals were even capable of mimicking it.

Haven't done a class here in years and I still learn things. Schools man, what is with them?

"Really, the only way you're gonna get the hang of it is through use. Pretty true for every aspect of a mutation. It took me months to stop destroying every metal object I touched." He'd had to be so careful, and it sure had made dinner time awkward. Luckily his parents were happy enough to sigh and put his use of chopsticks down to a phase. "I know I'm not exactly dealing with a new body, but I've been through the learning process for enough aspects of my mutation to know how difficult it can be." The whole "railgun" aspect had resulted in more than one accident. Luckily, most of the time, he managed to reduce the object to slag before it left his hands.

Tyson felt a surge of encouragement at confirmation that the technique had been effective. So far specking to people had been a difficult process, but if he could at least get that down, he could get a little back to normal. It was only a little, but with everything else falling apart, he needed any handhold he could get. He tightened his throat again, trying to hold onto that feeling and train himself to keep it that way, "Hr I-I hate my body," he said, thankfully clear enough to where he felt he could go on, "Everrrything doesn't make hr s-sense anymorrrrre. Smells, sounds, feelings, rrrr it is all wrrrrrong. I want to be norrrrrrmal again..." IT had come out understandable, well, besides the few growls and his trouble with r's, but it was definitely an improvement. It was hard on his throat too, but that would pass with time hopefully when he got used to the feeling. Otherwise everything he had said was his honest feelings, he didn't want to be a monster, but everything seemed to be pulling him that direction, his body was predatory, and that mindset was ingrained in him on some subconscious level, ready to take over at any moment and drive him to what was instinctually natural, and the things it did were slowly sapping his will to fight it. He had already given into the urge to eat raw meat from the fridge, unable to see any point in fighting it when there was no hope to return to a human body. He didn't know how far it was going to go, and that scared him.

He listened to Cafas share his experience with his own abilities. Unfortunately it didn't help him much, he felt his situation was entirely different, it wasn't just controlling an ability, it was a war inside his head over the things that made him human, one he felt he was losing ground on. It was easy to appreciate the abilities you had if you were in control of your own faculties, Cafas, Danica, Xavia, Claire, they all had abilities but they didn't... intrude on the way they thought. It gave them common ground as mutants, but his body was reshaping him into something else entirely, rather then just adding a new element, it was warping his views and mental image to an extreme extent that changed his very identity. It was a torment that lasted every second of the day as he fought to hold onto what little of him there was. He didn't know if Cafas could even relate to that or understand what he was going through, as much as he did appreciate his advise and help with his speaking issues.

Cafas sighed through his nose, his gaze flickering off of Tyson momentarily, returning just as quickly. He had words formulating in his head, but he was almost certain they wouldn't be well received. He had a brief revelation of how his father must have felt for several conversations they'd needed to have.

"Tyson, hating yourself and wishing for change aren't going to help you." Though his tone was gentle, a measured firmness lingered behind it, "Believe me, I've spent enough time trying." The X-man pushed onto his feet and took a step toward Tyson. "We're mutants, and mutations aren't in the habit of reversing. So our only recourse is to take control of them. Mastering your body will take patience, and practice. Mastering your mind doubly so, but it can be done. You can conquer even the basest instincts with enough discipline." His face was sympathetic, but not apologetic. "It will be hard. It will seem impossible. But while you're here, there will always be someone willing to help, and we will never judge you for it."

God knows most of us have no right to.

Cafas extended a hand and put it up on Tyson's shoulder, meeting his eye. "That's a promise." He gave the big wolf's shoulder a squeeze and retrieved his hand. " Now what say we keep trying to figure out your new vocal cords?" The metal manipulator gave a cheerful smile.

While Tyson heard Cafas, and understood to some extent what he was getting at. It was a lot harder to actually put that into practice. He had been trying hard to keep himself under control, to master his mind and body, but it just didn't seem to be working. And he was just being told to try harder, it seems impossible, try harder. It was easy for others to say these things, it was easy for others to say stop hating yourself. But the fact was Tyson did hate himself, and such feelings would not go away just because he told himself not to. Not that he didn't appreciate the advise. But continuously saying 'you can do it' to himself had thus far had no real effect on his progress. If anything he felt worse every time he failed

" Now what say we keep trying to figure out your new vocal cords?"

At least that seemed to be somewhat progressing, the advise Cafas had given definitely had yielded an immediate result there. "Hrrr O-okay," he said, a bit more confidence in his voice as he tightened his throat and focused on keeping that feeling. Being able to talk again would at least relieve him of some of the isolation he felt, since holding a conversation, at least an intelligible one, had been difficult. "W-what would be a hrr good exerrrrcize?" he asked still having trouble with his R's. He felt that saying his abc's may not be as effective now that he had the secret to getting his voice to work with him.