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

The night was cold and yet still Marcellus had no blankets to help him fend off the chills. His body shook within the night as the air grew colder and then suddenly he could feel a full on chill running up his spine and the sudden desire to throw up in both his dreams and outside of it. His eyes shot open with a quickness, mouth opening to gag as he threw his head over the side of his broken down bed, the urge stuck in the back of his throat as if he was choking. As his episode finished he heaved and panted, another chill running up his body as the sound of a giggle echoed through his shack. There was one, then another, and then another. Giggles echoed all over his shack and Marcellus practically leap out of his bed, paws pounding the ground as he landed on his floorboards beneath him. "Who's there? Show yourself!" No response. There was nothing to be seen or found and as Marcellus raced his way into the living room: nothing. No sign of someone nor any trace. It was barren with no one around. Cautiously, the domestic creeped his body slowly towards the door where he gently pushed it open with his small body, head moving to peer out slightly before shutting it back closed, pressing his body against the back of it as he looked back into his home.

"Luca, if that's you then this isn't funny!" He called out, voice annoyed and confused as he looked around. Suddenly there was a loud slam as a book slid off one of his tables, dropping onto the floorboards. The Toyger practically leap out of his fur as he looked towards where the noise came from but still there was nothing in sight until a small flash of white appeared in front of him before disappearing again. He shook his head and moved up a paw to rub it against his eyes, trying to make an explanation of what he just saw, but it seemed as if every one of them didn't make sense and he could only explain it as him going crazy. "I.. I need a walk." Marcellus whispered quietly to himself, turning away from the inside of his home and pushing open his shack door. Forcing his full body outside, the first thing he saw was Pincher standing on the coast in confusion, Marcellus tracing his gaze to the floating bones and nearly transparent bodies.

What the hell?

The domestic stood frozen, eyes wide as he watched the bones grow more and more wild as they flew in the air. The white figures controlling them occasionally popping in and out of transparency. For a moment he was ready to call it quits and run to Junji for a quick checkup, but then one of the bones were going at him and instantly he took to the sand, jumping off the small patio of his shack as the bone flew straight past him just in time. It hit his door, causing a loud bang sound. He cuffed his paws over his head as he shut his eyes tight, trying to convince himself that he wasn't going mad and that this was actually happening. In time, Marcellus opened his eyes to see another bone flying right for him but this time hitting him hard in his side. He let out a loud yowl as the bone made impact with his small body, pain soaring up him as he gritted his jaws together and dug his claws into the sand.

This was really happening.

He would have a similar stance to Pincher had he grown up in this world, but seeing that cats could speak to dragons and butterflies could breathe fire, nothing ever really surprised him now. Of course, this wasn't to say that Bakugou knew everything. He was simply far more open to the strange shenanigans that happened around him, watching the way events unfolded rather swimmingly. There is a nonchalance that simmers beneath his skin, a superior detachment flickering from his sanguine hues when it came to the supernatural. Always, he reminds himself, it should be expected. And yet he had been genuinely gripped in confusion when he chose to walk outside, touched by an eerily cold breeze that somehow made him shiver despite the constant fire that burned within him. He didn't see anything at first, nothing through the dark, abyssal backdrop that coated their tropical landscape. It was all painted into a sea of black, a murkiness even seemed to cloud the brightness of the stars above him. All he can do is watch and wait. The moon watches too. But unlike Bakugou, the moon knew.

He was about to re-enter his hut when he heard the wails, the agonised voices that filled the emptiness around him, encircling him. They strangled the silence away and suddenly Bakugou realised he misses the silence, the quiet that had so indifferently held him. "What th -" his own voice died, his own noises becoming inaudible among the shrieking shrill which rung against his pointed ears. He struggled to hear as if he was muted, straining himself that it felt like blood was being drained from the sides of his face. The Reaver winces, stepping forward and swatting at what must have been flies. But he begins to notice the small, reflective glow of white bones, whizzing past him like a storm, spinning around him. On instinct, fire begins to surround his body like a protective shield. He blasts fire from left to right, in front of him and behind him, desperate to shoo whatever was on his back. FUCK OFF, he feels himself shout but he can't hear, deafened by the ringing in his ears before finally snapping and channeling a column of fire. Red, hot flames rise, illuminating the area around him and shooting to the sky. Wails turned into screeching because legend had it that ghosts did not enjoy the light. They appeared in hauntings to the night but were banished upon morning.

Exhausted of his energy, having not slept and unleashing more power than he should have been able to, he felt his own body begin to crumble from the grasps of fatigue. He was ready to collapse, ears suddenly screaming with sound as if the world had been unmuted and was now blasted at full volume, when he heard a yowl from across the beach. Marcellus? His instinct was to move, legs suddenly sliding to push his body forward but slipping instead. He thuds, skidding down the small hill that led to his house and welcoming a mouth full of sand. He coughs, choking and spitting grains, spluttering uncomfortably. But he's closer to Marcellus, seeing the Toyger attacked by bones. Teleport. He can teleport there. And yet...he's so tired. He could close his eyes in this mysterious war, let himself be overcome by the shrills. He heaves his body with a paw, focusing tremendously over the fatigue when the floating, moving skeleton of a cat rams into him. It wakes him up for that instance, allowing his body to blink from his current position to [member=1489]MARCELLUS[/member] . Then, instantly, he pushes himself to breathe a jet of blames at the bones which continued to harass the Toyger. "F-FuCK OFF!" he chokes on his words, wheezing and rasping from air from the overuse of his powers.

He was shaking in his own fur, but not out of fear of the ghosts but from the excess of energy he had used. He could hardly stand on his own paws. This is too much to be some shithead's prank, the ragdoll thinks to himself, continuing to talk to himself from within the safety of his own mind. The more he talks himself through this, the more awake he can keep himself. It doesn't, however, stop the nausea from setting in. Wails beginning to pick up again, reverberating with the shifting sands. Bakugou lifts a quivering paw, "My hut. Get... get to my hut."

He wasn't ready for it. He didn't see it coming. His vision was a blurred mesh, images intertwining within a soft field of sand and dapples of white. The loss of his clear vision was making an impact on his ears which were now picking up everything, failing to soften and tune out the excess noise that was being blasted at full volume. He was suddenly aware of the movement of the sea, the wails that occurred further off and even the sinking of paws into sand. The sounds are loud. He can hardly decipher what was in front of him. His eyes and his brain refused to agree with each other, his ears were on high alert. Bakugou couldn't even to begin to imagine what his other senses were like because of the intense fatigue and nausea that was swimming over him. There was no soreness and shock when he was hit, only the sensation of moving and toppling from Victor's crash. Before he realises it, he's already against the sand coughing. His body is rising and expelling all sorts of bodily fluids from his stomach. Then, with his last energy to Victor, he roars: "H...HUT. NOW." It was the safest place he could think of - his forge, his home.