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With wolf knocked out, I think it's safe to say he ends up in a cell in the infirmary, Glitch, Elliot, and Margo can continue threading with DocProf, but I can also open a new thread with Wolf locked up since he's effectivly feral. Anyone want to try getting through to him?

Tyson tried his best to follow Elliot's directions to the letter. For all Elliott's attempts at humor, Tyson remained focused on trying to find his center and do the correct breathing as Elliott explained it. Unfortunately all he could really get was a feeling that all he was doing was making himself look like a fool. It wasn't that he was try to think about that, but his breathing seemed to come out a few times as snorts rather then breaths, perhaps his airways were a little bit different. He even tried as Elliott suggested and covered his ears, but it didn't really do much to clear his mind or focus. He still felt scattered by the thoughts in his head and the part of him that was animal getting distracted by various sounds going on elsewhere on the grounds, and the deep breathing brought new smells to his attention and made it all the more difficult for him to keep his mind centered.

"Hrrr, is therrre any way to block out senses?" he said in a frustrated tone, not knowing how to keep it all in check while he attempted any form of self enlightenment. If he could just keep his instincts at bay, maybe he would understand better. Elliott probably knew better then he did, but he wasn't sure how well his monstrous form could even handle meditation since it was so affected by wild impulses. Maybe he wasn't built for meditation, just as he was no longer built for just about anything human.

Tyson was quickly finding himself getting overwhelmed by the people surrounding him. The pain, the mental breakdown, the hopelessness, and now this was pushing him over the edge. His loose grasp upon himself finally slipped. A snarl escaped his lips as he tore himself away from the group surrounding him as his eyes became wild and agitated. His wounds hadn't finished healing, and the movement jerked it open again as it tore itself from Elliott's grasp, a fresh spew of blood flowing. More pain shot through his spine, driving him further into his agitated state. His breathing was heavy, and a constant growl emanated from his throat, his hackles raised and teeth bared as he turned to face the group. He was just about foaming at the mouth, and it would have been clear that Tyson didn't seem to be home anymore, his stare that of a wild, wounded, and most of all pissed off animal.

Tyson's eyes darted to each of the others in the kitchen, the girl, the metal creature, the green creature, there was no recognition in his eyes. The stare was that of a predator gauging it's attackers. Tyson was cornered in the kitchen, leaving him with only the fight option, which in the past had resulted in a body count. The metal and green creatures were more threatening, leaving the girl as weakest, and the most likely route for escape. The unintelligible snarls continued, his eyes unblinking, ready to trigger if the wrong move were made.

Tyson listened to Elliott's explanations from the book. Honestly it sounded like a bunch of temple monk stuff, but he wasn't going to judge until he knew it worked or not. Thought, now that he thought about it, it was somewhat accurate to body functionality. "Hrrr, the stomach fuels the body, hrrr the brain contrrrols body function and thought, close enough forrr me." he commented. As far as he was concerned Elliot could call it pixie dust if he wanted.

With yin and yang he couldn't help but think of the yin yang symbol. It wasn't like you could escape that sort of common knowledge when the media went nuts over it. But what Elliott explain struck a little bit of a cord with him. Two minds was almost exactly what his problem was, his two halves, the human mind and the wolf body, if he was out of balance, metaphorically speaking, then it wasn't hard to imagine how that caused his bouts of... canine tendencies. It seemed obvious that his emotional side must be the one causing it, as his lose of control seemed aggravated when in distress. Tyson took a deep breath, trying to demonstrate his technique, which usually involved taking long slow breaths until he felt lightheaded.

Tyson gritted his teeth as he felt the edge of the blade on his tail, resting against his skin and shaking slightly with his trembling hands. Even though the appendage was unfamiliar to him, it was still as sensitive as any other of his limbs, and what he was doing was still akin to cutting off an arm or a leg, and the tension and stress was causing him to growl and whine as he thought to keep his wolf instincts, the part of him that automatically sought out self preservation, from acting out and preventing him from doing what had to be done. Not that it made it any easier. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and started pushing... and stopped, still hesitating in anticipation of the pain that would be involved. He took another breath.. and...

The shout caught him by surprise, so focused on the task at hand he hadn't even detected the scent coming up on him. He jerked in surprise, and the blade sliced into the base of his tail. Unfortunately, his grip faltered in his shock. He felt as the blade scraped against the bone before it tumbled out of his hand. Pain shot through this entire spine as his nerves screamed bloody murder. The knife clattered to the ground, stained red with blood. It was followed by the giant wolf man who spasmed and howled with pain. His vision went red and hazy as he felt the pain pulsate like a drum as blood spurted from the wound. He was barely aware of who it was who had walked in on him as he tried to cope with the intensity of the pain he had inflicted upon himself.

Tyson's hands shook, his breath coming heavy and labored. He gripped the knife in his paws tightly, trying to keep enough pressure so it wouldn't slip. The handle felt bent, but he didn't care, he could barely think about that, he was trying to prep himself mentally for what he was about to do, or at least attempt to do. He wasn't sure it would even work if he could go through with it, he'd never tried anything like this before. But with everything the way it was, this seemed like the only option...

***Half an hour earlier***

Tyson's sleep was as bad as ever. Worse even. He had exhausted himself mentally trying to out run his problems, and he had run so much it felt like his back ached from running on all fours for so long. He knew it was probably his imagination, since he healed so fast any injury he could have sustained would have been okay in a few minutes.. He had finally passed out on his bed. He had finally allowed the mansion to change out the sheets, which had been torn for a long time since his claws had ruined them, but since he had his plastic claw tips now, the sheets no longer snagged and tore. One small plus. For once he had proper sheets, but they did little to ease the nightmares he had about his lack of control and slipping humanity. He still experienced the terror of losing his mind and going on a killing spree every time he passed into sleep, though he was so used to it now that he no longer screamed when he woke up. 

He awoke early morning from the most recent bloodbath of his rampent imagination. That he was used to. He was tangled in his sheets from his tossing and turning, and one of his legs was asleep probably having the circulation cut off, though his groggy mind couldn't figure out which one it was. He started to twist the sheets off of him, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed to try and get the feeling back. Strangely he still couldn't figure out which one it was. Until he realized it wasn't his leg. There was a tugging sensation behind him, an unfamiliar one as he shifted his weight. He twisted around to try and look, and saw it, still wrapped in the sheets, but undeniably there. He felt the blood draing from his face as his eyes went wide, and any trace of sleepyness was eradicated by the panic the set his heart beating faster motor engine.

He stumbled from his bed, pulling the sheets behind him before he tore them from himself, pushing himself across the floor as if he could somehow distance himself from it. It was impossible, but there it was, twitching even as he stared. He pushed himself up against the wall, sitting there in shock and horror. It had to be a nightmare, he must still be sleeping, but the rising panic in his chest, the hard beating and blood pounding through his head told him otherwise. A stifled whimper escaped his throat, which was knotted so tightly he was sure he would choke at any moment. It was as if it were validating all his fears...

A tail. A damned tail. He had grown a tail. 

Everything seemed to come apart, what little he had snapped. He was loosing it, he was  turning into an animal, the tail said it all, he was going to devolve into a beast, and his nightmares would become a reality. He couldn't take it, it was too much. He pushed himself to his feet, and rushed to the door, pulling it open, ignoring the splintering wood as the bolt pulled through the wood, splintering the doorframe. 

***Present***

Gripping the knife awkwardly, Tyson brought the edge to the base of his new appendage, holding it steady with his other hand. Honestly he was afraid, even with his healing factor, he still felt pain, and he had never lost a limb before. He could feel the bone in his tail, he would not only need to cut skin, he would need to cut through bone. With a kitchen knife no less. But what else could he do, he didn't want this, couldn't take another push like this, he had been through too much too on top of that be devolving even more into an animal. Would it continue until he was an actual wolf? Was he going to wake up unable to walk on two legs? It was too much for his already strained mind to bear, he wanted it gone. He gritted his teeth, hesitating, trying to muster the courage and will to cut it off.

Tyson let out a small exhale of relief as Elliott let the issue go. He appreciated that Elliott was not trying to get him open up on those things. If he ever got to the point where he could deal with this issues, he may confide in Elliott, but he was far from doing that with anyone. He kept it to himself to prevent his world from crumbling around him until he found some way to deal with it. If everyone knew the extent of his lack of control, he could end up kicked out of the institute, in jail, or something even worse. He wasn't willing to chance that.

He followed Elliot and watched as he took a meditative position. He wondered if the stance was essential to effectiveness, since it seemed a bit stereotypical, something out of a film, but he wasn't going to question it. If Elliott told him to stand on his head and cross his eyes, he would do it as long as it got results. So he sat down and did his best to mimic his form. The structure of his legs were a little different, so crossing his legs caused a bit of discomfort, but not enough to complain about.

"Hrrr if I want spirrritualism," said Tyson in reaction to the comments, "I'll hrrr join a churrrch." he didn't care about any 'mystical' side of things. His experience had pretty much destroyed any faith he had in a higher power. He had considered himself a good person before he met his father, yet his life had been destroyed without warning, and his mind and body warped to the point that he could barely call himself human. Maybe he was just becoming bitter, but he couldn't help it, his hopes had been crushed too many times for him to believe anymore. "Hrrr whateverrr method is most effective hrrr to you is prrrobably the best way to go." He just wanted results, he didn't want experiments into new age mystic crystal hippie stuff.