The sun was rising over the waves, signalling that it was time for him to retire to bed, but still Luca continued to sit on the shore. Even if he was tired, his mind was far too busy for rest. Orange light washed over him as the ocean touched playfully at the tips of his paws, threatening to encase them fully before slipping back into the main body of the ocean. There was a calmness that came with the repetitive motions. He opened his mouth and inhaled a breath of salty air, feeling it coat his lungs and holding it before exhaling it in a heavy sigh. Smoke lifted from the embers that dotted his tongue, and he watched it dissipate into the air with an expression that could only be described as blank. He hadn't intended to get so attached to the Typhoon. It hadn't even been that long yet, but he still felt a very real connection to a lot of the animals that lived there.

It was time, he knew that much. Time to face the music and accept atonement for letting his guard down and growing close to something that he wasn't supposed to. By nature he was supposed to be a traveller, never staying on one place for too long before moving on to a new location, new people. he had spent too long here, and he hadn't corrupted even a single soul, so it was inevitable that this would happen.

Slowly, the canine stood, idly brushing the sand from his hind legs with his tail before taking a step into the ocean. The cold water finally encased his paws, bringing with it memories of the last time he'd entered a large body of water. If he concentrated, he could still taste the faintest hints of that horrid muddy lake. At least the salt of the sea would be a... new experience. Further he waded towards the horizon, the warmth of his body causing it to hiss and bubble around him as he finally came up to his chest. His wings unfurled to float atop the surface of the ocean, and his teeth worried briefly at his lower lip, but then he fell still, his lashes falling closed peacefully over fuchsia eyes. For minutes he waited. The gentle push and pull of the ocean was his only company, and he was sure that if he didn't have it that he'd lose his courage.

No sooner had that thought crossed his mind that everything fell still. Luca noticed the dip in atmosphere instantly, but he didn't open his eyes out of fear of insulting her. All he could do was brace himself for the claws that found themselves amongst the fur at the back of his head, and he only managed to take half a shaky breath before his face was pushed violently into the waves below. He could only hold his breath or so long before his chest started to burn. Salt stung his eyes despite them being squeezed shut, and involuntarily his jaws parted to continue to cycle of exhale and inhale, but right as he were about to fill his lungs with water, his head was pulled back up to above the waves. He coughed and spluttered, but only managed to take another breath or so before he was pushed back under.

He wasn't sure how long the cycle repeated for, but he knew that it was too long. The rocks that littered the ocean floor dug into his nose and cheeks, and Luca was sure that his right eye burned with something a little more severe than sea water. His body was weakening rapidly, legs shaking and lungs burning, but he was sure that his goddess knew this Once, twice, thrice more he was thrust into the unforgiving sea, but then the painful grip on his skull vanished, leaving him to slump fully into the water. He didn't have enough energy to pull himself from the ocean, he knew that before he even tried. His head was submerged for one final time as he gave up, the salty tang of the sea kissing his tongue as it finally poured down his throat and into his lungs.

[tldr; the deity luca worships punished him for not doing his job, so now he's cut up and drowning just off the shore of the typhoon sakdjsjd,, injuries include just a bunch of cuts on his face (the nastiest one over his right eye) and the water in his lungs!! feel free to powerplay any healing (also pretend this is my 100th post pwease im impatient :3c)]

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All in one second, a peaceful walk down the beach turned into an aching of his insides, he could feel as though the walls were collapsing in on him and the feeling of water crashing against his throat even though truthfully the water did not exist. He could feel his paws dig into the heated sand beneath him, his stomach churning and twisting as he looked around hastily. Had someone decided to play a foul prank on him, they would be quick to realize that Marcel wasn't having it, his face in a glare through the pain as his paws desperately tried to keep his body up and steady, breathing growing heavy as he tried to gather the thoughts that were running rampant around in his mind. His mind would try to search for answers  that could explain the odd behavior until finally he found one that he would inevitably link back to Luca and the soul bond he held with the hellhound. He would quickly focus his mind as he would try to tap into the hellhound's thoughts but he could see nothing but pitch black, the only clue the King Cheetah gathering was that he was near a body of water.

Wincing in pain, Marcel would have his paws begin to walk along the surface of the sand, wincing with every step as his body churned at the feeling of being drowned, pain soaring up every imaginary and fictional cut that was laid on his body as he would try to power through the overbearing pain. His limp didn't make this easier as it only helped to slow his pace, bright eyes narrowing as he tried to focus his mind on something other than the very pain he could feel from Luca's end. "I swear I'm gonna kill him." His voice was husky and low, pauses between his words as the pain was able to be heard through them. Whether whatever happened was intentional or not, Marcellus was angry with the hellhound for the pain that he was being put through, but no only Luca but the soul bond too. He wondered why fate had decided to tie them together but he knew there was nothing he could do but try his best to ignore the bond. That's what he had been actively doing the past few days, his mind keeping off the bond only except for when Luca would try to call him through the bond or do something that Marcel could feel.

Long moments passed before the feline found himself viewing a crowd of members in the distance, his bright eyes narrowing into a squint that were able to catch a glimpse of the dark pelt and long wings of Luca, along with features from Caesar and Silus. His paws began to speed up as he tried to quicken his pace only to be tucked back by the pain that itched at every corner of his body, the feeling of being drowned still present. Slowly, Marcel made his way towards the three to look at the passed out Luca covered in cuts and drenched in water. Undeniably a jolt of concern and worry lit inside Marcel as he looked over to Silus for any idea on what to do. But the only words that left the males mouth were 'help' and instantly his concern was replaced with panic. His eyes darted wildly as he debated what to do as he had no medical knowledge what so ever, and had no idea how to treat someone that just drowned. As if on cue the males mouth opened wide to release a hacking and bout of coughs, the King Cheetah falling to the sandy ground beneath as he tried to catch his breath.

Even though there was no water in his lungs he still felt as though he might just die then and there, the feeling compressing inside him that made him feel like he was struggling, breath growing haste and short. "S-Silus." He managed to mumble under his breath as he tried to catch it, another cough being released past his parted jaws. "Should I try to find Junji?" At this point even the thought of moving pained Marcel, but this was pain he was willing to deal with as this meant not only his life having the possibility of being lost but Luca's as well. Of course he knew that the hellhound would only come back, but dying was never a positive experience would anyone. Without warning, Marcel would try and force himself back onto his broad paws only to nearly fall again, moving a paw to catch himself on his more weaker side that had his limp. He huffed as his eyes moved to look down at the unconscious body of Luca.

At one point, sleep was difficult for the cream-furred reaver. He couldn’t sleep because he was paralysed by this sense of unsettlement. Who could say that his time here was guaranteed? His limbs always feel stiff at the thought. No matter the hard work of smithing weapons and armour, the soreness which made his joints feel as though they’d give way, he always felt as if he was already dead. It was as if he hadn’t come to grips with his inevitable conclusion. Perhaps he is still dead, just a rotting body abandoned in a ditch or the side of a road that’s seen fire. Maybe he’ll go to sleep and never wake up because his soul has decided to rejoin reality, the homeland he had been born into. One time, back when he was still living in his old hut, he woke himself up in the dire darkness of the night. Morning was coming – he knew that much at least because his paws were usually cold and Bakugou later realised they were dappled in the salt of his tears. He never thought himself to be a night crier, to be so overwhelmed with emotion that even his unconscious mind was unable to allow the stillness of the universe.

Mother nature is so unkind. Always there is that superior detachment, a nameless beauty that enshrouds her indifferent eyes. He always feels like he is being watched or is at least enchanted to feel as though he can never truly feel happy. Bakugou’s a fool for thinking this must be a godly sort of punishment. If there was any sort of supernatural being, an ultimatum all written into the code of their lives, blaring at him. A being that was waving their spectral arms towards him, screeching in frustration which soak within their unknowable face. He dreads a sense of half-life. To exist but only exist within his own plane, unrecognised or even acknowledged by the many darting pupils of creatures and pests. He can imagine himself shouting at the top of his lungs, hearing himself but doubting his own existence. What does it mean to exist if others didn’t even know you were there? Sometimes, being so confined within the walls of his own mind and thoughts, it feels as if he’s isolated from the world’s population. As if he were not even worthy to be recognised as a speck in the void within the cognition of various, haunting spirits which roamed in fleshy holds.

He’s always felt this vulnerable, open to be consumed by the jaws of the underworld, swallowed whole by the suffocating silence of reality. No. He can’t simply write it off as ‘silence’. It is more like a blurred mesh of noise, bizarre because it’s so loud that it was like silence, a gulf of nothingness. He’s gotten used to the obnoxious wave of sounds, the belly-flopping tides, that it’s drowned him into thinking there is nothing out there. Even the fire he stares at lacks a symbolic strength. He knows that if he reaches out his paw, dares to touch the golden glow, that he will burn himself. It is a selfish kind of thinking to care so much about the universe, to curse its very nature. There are planets, galaxies and endless scapes of space and light. To even think that the universe, for one moment, would stop to care about his own insecurities makes him feel only foolish. And even though he knows this, the world continues to revolve around his anguished manifestation. The despair embodies him, wrapping her delicate hands along his fur, squeezing him. Always he has this contradicting way of thinking. He knows the universe cares little for him, but he also knows that this world as he sees it revolves around what he sees and believes. No one exists until he has met them, that was the law of cognition.

As far as he is concerned, there is no such thing as a god. The universe wouldn’t even dare to consider making one, or even allow itself to be insulted by the all-powerful hands of a superior being. It is like the ocean who refuses to be restrained. Never will the ocean act submissively. It knows its strengths, it knows the devastation it can cause. It is the very ocean which becomes personified through a poetic art. It exists simply as a mass of moving molecules, living as one piece, and yet it somehow remains unique. A centrepiece, a muse, for devastation and beauty. He realises that no matter the world or landscape he finds himself within, the ocean has always been romanticised to a certain extent. Like humans, even the animals find themselves baffled at the seams when they realise the true indifference which lived within the gravitational pull of the sea.

The ragdoll closes his eyes, breathing deeply the leftover ashes which coat along his skin. He has yet to clean himself off after having been working in his forgery all day, dressed in a mourning tone. It would be a shame to drift himself to sleep when he’s in this ruffled mess but at this moment, the reaver feels restless. There is a foreboding dread which shapes the red outlines of the fire before him, altering the atmosphere around him. He feels himself to be bewitched, distraught at the idea of death despite having already gone through it. Well, maybe he was never human. It is possible it was all a dream, a deep trickery of his mind. Who was he really? He feels his memory sparking hazily, a dying ignition trying to remember something as though he were two persons in one. How did this happen anyway? He can’t expect the world to think he’d believe it if his body just materialised into a new world in a cat. Can he even count this ragdoll body as new? Was there an original host of this body, one who inhabited it until he forcefully ejected their spirit into that other hell? Not realising you had existed at all?

Sleep intimidates him and the more he thinks about it, trying to convey the darkness behind a little snooze, he feels himself drowning. He didn’t die from water and yet it still feels as though he has died that way in maybe another life, or perhaps the feeling of being unable to breathe surrounded by a substance you could only try to propel through faster was distressing enough. The taste of saltwater is only but a distant memory. He’s gone down the beach many times but never really chose to allow its reach to encircle any more than his knobbly ankles. Bakugou doesn’t trust the sea. He respects its command, but he can never allow himself to submit to it, the same way the sea will never submit itself to the hands of a mere, ordinary mortal. The male can only begin to imagine the taste which leaves the mouth dehydrated.

It is then that his tired and frazzled thoughts are interrupted by the familiar accent of a sage, crying for help that his fur bristles along the guideline of his vertebral column. Bakugou hisses, impulsively wishing to move but unable to because his legs have fallen asleep. His teeth clash together, a crisp snap of air echoing towards the fire which was brimming unearthly tones. His paws twitch at the prickling sensation of his muscles, spastic and alive, neurons firing when he forces himself upwards with a reluctant heave. Usually he won’t move. It’s the kind of feeling that makes him want to curl up and stop himself from laughing, bursting aloud in a sound of non-consensual laughter. He still needs to move, allow himself to mold his figure into that of a hero as he stumbles to his door. With staggered legs, wobbling uncomfortably, he takes a deep inhale before leaving his hut and allowing his feet to sink within the coldness of the sand. He’s become defamiliarized with the coolness of the grains which encapsulate his feet as he’s been working beside fire all day.

Sanguine eyes glance around him as he sends off fireballs in different direction, careful enough to keep them high enough in the sky so not to burn the faces of any unlucky pirates. He sees multiple figures already at the scene and Bakugou releases a low rumbled growl from his coaly throat, unimpressed by the masses which are ready to address whatever the commotion was. As though he were changing channels, his eyes flick to the king cheetah, recognising the outlined wrinkles of pain across his furry face. He remembers hearing all the rumours that Luca and Marcellus were mentally and physically linked, a strange bond which ridiculed both parties if they so happened to hate each other. Bound by the soul, shackled together. He wonders briefly if it is for all eternity, ponders what on earth even triggered such a phenomenon. Maybe there truly is a god, sadistic gods which write away at their pitiful lives – giving them all bad endings for the sake of their own bittersweet amusement, loving them like mothers and fathers but leading them to a world of pain.

Pity. He doesn’t usually feel pity for anyone but there is a love which envelops Junji who approaches, singing a familiar tune. Bakugou himself feels empty, uncomfortable because the buzzed hums tug at him, nagged at him about something that felt completely unknowable to him. It was a pain rooted deeply in his chest and his stomach felt sick, staring at Luca until his look of worry turned into disgust. His teeth clench, angry because yet another crewmate has been injured and even more annoyed because he didn’t know why his heart hurt so much. Well, maybe not his heart. It could have been his lungs but Bakugou knows that they could never make his ears burn up. No, that was his blood rushing to his face, dilating to cool down his overwhelming body heat. Feeling that he should say something, and understanding that he perhaps won’t have any jobs to fulfil, croaks an almost insensitive question: ”…The fuck happened to ‘im?” And yet the nature of his words are laced with a genuine concern for the male.

Inky darkness encased him. It brought with him a comfort, an escape from all the things he was running from. Hands that he was far too afraid to look at played gently with his fur, calming him and distracting him from the pain that he could no longer fully convince himself that he liked. He wasn't quite sure why his lungs burned so much, but he knew that it would be okay. The sweet voice he could hear echoing in his ears was telling him that much. He could trust her, but then why did he feel so anxious all of a sudden? It was almost like he knew he had to be somewhere else, like the distant ringing of a call that he knew he had to answer. He frowned and tried to open his eyes, but it was a little harder than he had first thought it would be. The slight tingle of anxiousness began to grow with every pulse of his heart, adrenaline seeping into his bloodstream and overtaking his thoughts with a primal panic that he couldn't quite understand. He opened his mouth but all that came out was the sound of rushing water.

Water, the ocean, his face. Luca's lashes finally fluttered open, and for a moment the abyss around him opened, revealing a wall of foreign eyes staring right back at him. He didn't have enough time to feel afraid before he was back in the world of the living, coughing and spluttering violently to get the last remnants of water out of his airway. He took a deep breath of air, panting with a desperation that he would have found embarrassing if he weren't too busy processing his surroundings. His panicked eyes flickered from one clanmate to another, and he would have scrambled away from the group if his body hadn't already given up on him. The best he could do was squirm around until he was hit by Junji's voice, the angel's sweet tone instantly locking the hellhound's attention on him. He exhaled raggedly one, twice, but then his breathing fell relatively even. The presence of the one he admired was definitely taking a positive effect, allowing Luca to reluctantly lie still beneath the crowd's scrutinising gaze. At least Junji's wings were providing him the slightest bits of shelter.

Now that he had remembered where and who he was, he had time to process everything else, like the fact that the vision in his right eye was nothing more than a dark blur. He blinked pitifully up at Junji as the angel applied the final touches of the poultices, his features relaxing somewhat as he took a moment to calm himself and listen to the song that the pale feline was singing him. He recognised it, of course, and his heart fluttered briefly in his chest. Now was a bad time to blush, but he definitely did so, his teeth coming down gently on his lower lip as his tired eyes examined the worried soothsayer's face. "Junji," he hated how rough his voice sounded, the femininity he had grown so used to stripped by the harsh events prior. He found himself smiling, despite everything, a lazy ray of sunshine falling over his bloody maw. "I love you... so, so much," his words were soft, different from the casual way he usually uttered the phrase. Clearly, he was still a little out of it.

Now that the poultices were done being rubbed in, however, he could finally investigate whatever was marring his vision. He lifted an impossibly heavy paw and all but slapped it onto his face, instantly registering that the cut over his eye was a bit more severe than he had been hoping for. The smile was gone from his face now, replaced with the faintest hints of a pout instead. "My eye," came the husky whine, the pain of this realisation carried very obviously in his voice. Even though he no longer possessed his powers of hypnotism, his eyes were still very important to him. Without them he felt vulnerable and ugly, too much like that monstrous true form of his that he hated so much. He frowned and tried to roll over and stand up, but all he really succeeded in doing was flailing in the sand a little before falling still again. He didn't want to be in front of everyone for any longer, he wanted to be at home.