Bakugou had a lot of things he could say about The Typhoon. There were many little aspects of the island which irked him, many members who he didn't hesitate to make enemies with, but if he would never dare to leave. Truthfully, he was happy where he was. He doesn't mind the new life which has been set before him, no matter how sudden or unwanted it had originally seemed. There is a genuine appreciation the reaver has attached to the island. He may never admit it openly, but he'd miss The Typhoon if he ever had to leave. Perhaps it was why he put so much effort into making a name for himself. He felt passionate but at the same time, the past still gnawed at him like a tumour. It continued to grow on him, multiply and weigh him like a burden. Maybe this isn't his calling, maybe it is. Sometimes it feels to him that if he were to suddenly disappear, no one would notice. Even Kirishima seems caught up in other affairs, especially with his friend's promotion. Maybe Eijirou doesn't have time to remember him. He'd understand...begrudgingly.

The ragdoll steps over a tuft of grass, paws pressing against the soft texture as he stops for a moment to furrow his brows. It was the little things, perhaps, which always caught the male off guard. He hadn't expected the ground to feel so gentle against his pads, let alone expect to realise the feeling of the grass whilst he was so absorbed in his own thoughts. Bakugou clenches his teeth together, embers melting from his fire-coated tail. He closes his eyes and feels the unsteady rhythms of his chest, as if his core had trouble sitting at a constant temperature. Maybe, he thinks, he's dying. The other world will grasp him, drag him out of this one to experience hell once more. Or at least something doesn't feel right with his body. It feels unsteady, unable to maintain itself as though he'd disintegrate into the soil, be thrown away by the wind. Every inch of his body is on fire, darting back and forth and in frenzy. He's being torn apart and put back together in nanoseconds. It's not noticeable to the naked eye but he can feel it, he can see the irregularities which sit along the pupils of his eyes, trembling.

He almost doesn't notice the chime of a bell, as if his ears weren't still enough to recognise the vibrations which echoed along the air. Bakugou winces, snapping the air and growling to himself to 'get your fuckin' self together'. He's likely tired, probably slipping back and forth various gulfs of time and reality. He's stuck in a realm of dreams, frightening him through the awoken eyes. Shaking his fur in an attempt to fire his neurons, the reaver continues to walk through the forest to the train tracks. He walks along them until he sees the reptilian creature at the bell, greeted by Feliks who he so far lacked a negative opinion of. Jingle Bells, Jingle Bell Rock. The ragdoll snorts a puff of smoke, amused by the male's suggestion. Bakugou would much appreciate if the gryphon didn't sing. He has no qualms against his voice but he does have qualms against the idea of singing. Bakugou didn't come here to hear two creatures use their voices for music. Hah, no, he just wants this foreigner's business over and done with.

Bakugou raises a brow at Feliks' inquiry, intrigued by the way the gryphon chose to change up their usual 'name and business' norm. He's not particularly surprised considering how refreshing the male was compared to other Typhooners but he's pleasantly amused. Bakugou has always resisted the norm, never really saw the need to ask for a stranger's name as he assumed it to be information one should always give regardless. It was simply common practice, something to be expected. The ragdoll especially doesn't care about names if the stranger just happened to be passing by, looking for directions, or a merchant. Unless there was a wanted criminal lurking about, why should they need to know what the creature identified itself as? Well, the idea of chucking in a favourite hobby into the mix said a lot about Feliks' personality should one not have grasped an idea of it already. Bakugou admittedly rather liked Feliks. Well, regardless of what Bakugou thinks, he is here to greet this dragon for whatever he is here for. He hopes it's not another nuisance or eccentric nutcase.

"Bakugou," the ragdoll introduces himself, hissing a little at the pain beneath his fur.

HEARTFELT PROMISES { .:*・°☆ } ——— [size=10pt]TAGS

Joiners were not an uncommon thing, especially in the Typhoon. Every time he seemed to pass by the gates of the Typhoon he would hear the ringing of bells or the sound of commotion and this time was no different. The king cheetah had been padding along past the gates, his paws aching as he so badly wanted to go home. He had been at the Colosseum observing the fighters and the tactics they used in order to help his own fighting, though even then he had a long way to go in terms of advancing in fighting and getting back to his shack. He began to pick up speed before his ears flicked at the sound of the voices outside the gate, his head swinging to look over towards the gate before his paws began to carry him there, the king cheetah limping over and looking out to spot the gathering crowd and what seemed to be a purple dragon. For a moment he contemplated leaving out of his own fears, before he realized that Lucifer was there in which the king cheetah slowly slipped over to them. He stood beside Lucifer as he looked over the purple dragon silently. Hobby? That's a new one.

"Marcellus." He introduced, trying to act as nonchalant as he could manage. "I guess a hobby for me is uh, well I don't know. Swimming?" His tone was questioning as he shrugged his shoulders and sat.