Welcome to Gaia! ::

Aside from CX's fur and saliva, no part of him contains the light-bending chemical. However, due to his structure, no part of him is regularly visible unless shaved. Fur that has fallen from CX retains the chemical, and thus remains invisible to the naked eye. (Stealth shedding!)

Due to a trick of the light, CX is only visible in reflections. The optical illusion holds on camera, but does not effect thermal imaging, or video /of/ mirrors.
The best method of making CX visible to the naked eye is to pigment, dye or stain his fur. Mud has the same effect. He /hates/ having mud or dye caked in his fur.

There was a point in time, as far back as he can remember, that he remembered seeing himself. There had been a constant patter of white paws hitting the floor beneath his chin, awkward and clumsy, a tuft of tail that wrapped warm around him. His paws had grown big before his fur began to shine, a glimmer that was just a promise of what was to come. His family had been proud, so proud that his shine was all over, from the tip of his nose to his tail, even mirroring his eyes. Surely he was the last one- the success.

Over a bare period of scant weeks. . . he’d gone from white, to shimmering, to a ripple, to nothing at all. The white coats had been fascinated during those weeks, shaving bare patches of his shining fur, reporting saturation percentages, taking blood test after blood test. CX had been obedient, happy. All the attention, all the tests meant that he was a success; his family was proud. So proud. . .

Trapped in his cage, the one occupant in the small set of kennels that still smelt of death, no matter how many chemicals they used, CX rolled over on his back, clawing with invisible feet at an unseen sky. The dust clinging to his feet made a mirage before his eyes, a smudge like a cloud between him and the concrete walls. Dirty. A splayed paw, and his claws extended, scratching black rents through the cloud. He continued the roll, planting both clawed forefeet in the unforgiving concrete floor before he attacked the dust with his tongue, lathing away the mess. I won’t be dirty. Not visible, not any more. It’d been a long time since he was visible, after all.
I’m not a cub any more. Not a stupid pet any more. Not the pride of my family.

He steadfastly ignored the blur of movement in the corners of his vision. This small subset of kennels was unlike any other in the building, he knew- the six cages were all lined on the long sides with mirrors behind plates of Plexiglas. The glass wouldn’t break- no matter how hard he tried. So to each side, he was always flanked by his ghosts. His ghosts were lean, pale things- tattered fur and thin ribs, crazed mirror-eyes. He cleaned his front paws meticulously, ignoring them. Just ghosts. Not here, no, no. So strange. . . He’d once gotten loose from the guards with their chains and collars, just outside his cage door. . . just long enough to desperately circle the kennel, looking into the other cages. . . But none of them left their ghosts behind. Just mine. . .

He wished his ghosts would go away- he’d tried, so many times to kill them, to scatter them in pieces too small to catch his soul- but his claws slid off the glass covering them with a horrific noise. There’d been other ghosts- oh, he’d killed those, where he could find them. The guards knew better than to let him near them, now. . . Guards- traitors, chains and muzzles and guns. . .

As if summoned by the thought, he could hear footsteps outside, a mechanical beep and the door sliding open. The door was out of his line of sight at the far end of the room, but oh, oh, he knew it was there. They come they come. . . It’d been a day since he’d last seen any of the traitorous bastards, but he supposed it was inevitable. The food they left sat stinking in the corner of his cage, smelling of death and chemicals he would never touch. This time, they hadn’t bothered to remove it. Someone had forgot- or hadn’t wanted to risk their hands to his claws. And teeth. He wouldn’t eat their chemical poisons, but the bastards, the false friends – those he would gladly sink his teeth into. Oh, he’d almost gotten them, almost almost almost . . . Time and time again.

Two guards came in; one face old and hated, the other new and fresh with fear. Having finished cleaning his paws Clean clean clean and not a dirty cloud – not a mirage – just nothing there- He stood, slinking to the back of his cage in a crouch. Come and get me, if you dare! Odd, odd that standing made him feel so weak, but he wouldn’t give wouldn’t falter- They would pay. Outside the door to his cage, the second was making noises of surprise, alarm, but the first was experienced. CX had scratched this one before, broken skin and tasted blood- and swears, sweet fear and anger. His claws spread as he crouched low to spring, tail switching behind him. He paid no mind to what words were said; words were just noise, just lies, lies and emptiness. The experienced one, tall and gruff, shoved the younger weaker one back with the chain leads and hated muzzle. As he opened the door, the white layhr leapt- and crashed straight into the abruptly closed door, claws catching and screeching against the metal bars. CX snarled his displeasure, screeches and growls to make the hair stand on end. Hate hate hate – death to the traitors!

Before he saw it coming, the older guard stabbed him through the bars- a familiar injection sting in his upper foreleg that spread a chill through his blood. CX backed away from the door, slinking belly low to the floor even as he wanted to bite and gnash his teeth. Poison, poison, like the food. . . Surely, surely, they were killing him slowly, making him this weak and earthbound. . . dirty. . .

He wasn’t sure when the weak things had entered his cage, but his claws flexed ineffectively on the floor as the young one buckled the muzzle into place with speed born of fear. His growls were weaker now, but ever present. How dare the traitors touch him?! He raised a paw to slap the offending hands away, only to be cuffed hard in return by the gruff guard. Balance off-set, he swayed, finding it suddenly hard to keep his feet as the room swam. Before he knew it, the lead lines were being snapped in place on the collar, one on each side. A hard tug from the gruff one had his claws screeching across the floor, making him snap ineffectually from inside his restraints. Fools, traitors! Your poison won’t work!

Stiff legged, he protested the movement, making them work to drag him out of the cage with his claws scratching the floor before reaching slick tile. Here his clean paw-fur was no help; he slid helplessly behind his two tow ropes. And the lights were flickering. . . He craned his head desperately to look into the other, empty cages before he was out of the kennel, seeing no glimpse of anything at all. No ghosts – no shadows. . . And perhaps he was losing his grasp on more than just the floor; the empty noise of the guards made too much sense as he was dragged, furious and alone in his indignity. . .

“Just need to watch the mirrors with this b*****d- crankiest stubborn s**t on four feet in the whole damned lab, I swear-“
“It’s creepy, that’s what it is.”
“Nah. Just a dying ghost.”