killin' my ego - cold front - Printable Version

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L U C I F E R . G R I M M

"The endless Void, The gazing abyss, The bottomless ocean of horror...It coiled itself around your tender heart"

"That is an overwhelming scent of pumpkin" a rumble emerged from the shadows of the trees and one eye of silver slid open to regard Victor - who had seemingly inadvertently picked a spot beside the dragon, not that he would have known, with how well the vantablack form seemed to merge with the shadows he was often mistaken for just that or a darker rocky outcrop and with his blatant red scar facing the opposite side it made picking him out harder.

"Getting festive Victor?" and there was a brief moment of vertigo - one of his late brothers had that name and its apparent rarity among these lands gave it a more sad tang in his heart to use it again, alas - before he arched an eyebrow at the canine - and his boots.

DRAGON [10FT Hght, 25FT Lgth] — HELLION [5FT] — TYPHOON / REAVER — PLAYLIST — TAGS

⚓ IKAIA | current track ♪ | current shape: oncilla | engaging. . . | [Image: zgR219p.png]

Victor became a strange sight indeed. Enough to draw the young oncilla forward, brown orbs gleaming bright in curiosity and childlike wonder. "What are those?" The boy had never seen any sort of shoes before. Not in the little meadow he had grown up in, or anywhere else. They looked strange, as far as the shifter felt concerned. They also made walking a little awkward. The child decided he'd probably dislike wearing them himself.

It's rare for Bakugou to feel cold. Not even the coldest winter could make him shiver because his blood was always so warm, usually boiling that it sometimes made him nauseous and sick to feel angry. He simply can't help the fact that his emotions were bound to his fire elementals, his rage often fueling the heat which crackled and swam within him. It was all in the lungs which were like fans, feeding the flames and allowing them to grow, to swarm and concentrate before he blew jets of flame from his lips. It was a cool feeling, actually. It made him feel like a real dragon, a powerful beast among men. And yet, in this world, others could be special for not being powerful. Heroes don't seem to matter like in the real world. Then again, maybe he's glad heroes weren't a title or occupation here. No one would give it to him. The Typhoon, being pirates, were more like the villains. But he can't help but say he's grown attached to this way of living. Besides, he tries to tell himself, it's not as if he's tortured anyone or killed someone. He's still clean and his old way of life was long gone behind him.

Luciferus' words were indeed true. It was definitely an overwhelming scent of pumpkin but maybe it was because Bakugou had never really been a fan of such overwhelmingly sweet odours. Another thing he isn't a fan of were those atrocious Ugg boots. An alabaster breath escapes through his nostrils, smoke dissipating into the colder climate. "You should throw those out," he says after Ikaia's question, referring directly to the shoes that the sled dog had. Victor was surely a strange canine to him.

CAPTAIN PINCHER ROUX | resides in the typhoon and is the demigod of rough seas. he is a muscular dark gray panthera hybrid with frigid glacier blue eyes, marked with scars and glowing tattoos. he is the head of the roux family and is currently single. he is known for being a charming strategist with dark secrets. be cautious around him. —— ⚓

❝ A MODERN GOD IN A TAILORED SUIT — WHO'S LIPS TASTE LIKE FORBIDDEN FRUIT ❞

Pincher despised the cold not because of the weather but the horrid memories that came with the idea of winter. Winter last year had perhaps been his worst time as he had been put through the gruelling training of his father and he remembered one thing that many trainees had to do to survive the gang's 'elite' behavior. He remembered sleeping in the bunkers of the ship he traveled with and suddenly being dragged out to be tossed overboard into freezing icy water in the much colder regions of the world. He remembered the shock and the horror of being tossed over like some piece of meat and the worst thing was that one had to keep swimming as the ship moved on as a rope would be tied around their neck and make it impossible for them to falter. He remembered seeing many trainees choke on not being able to keep up and Pincher remembered swimming furiously behind a dragging corpse of a crewmate, heart racing and blood roaring in his ears. It was the worst training he had recieved in his eyes and when he felt the icy touch of winter, he shivered at the haunting memories.

The broad-shouldered tattooed male was within the walls of the Capricorn tavern, his half-lidded ice blue gaze staring outside the windows as everyone else mingled. He was sitting quietly in his own private booth, sipping on a glass of scotch and gnawing at some sardines while he worked on some paperwork. Allowing a light yawn to escape his jaws, the panthera hybrid stalked out of the tavern and towards his submarine when he caught sight of Victor with a scar and...boots? A quizzical baffled expression formed into his facial features as the wildcat stalked closer and rumbled "The fuck did you get those, Vic?" He tipped his head ever so slightly to the side as the scarred pirate halted beside Bakugou, glancing towards the other equally puzzled males.

❝ THE TYPHOON — CAPTAIN — IMMORTAL — DEMIGOD — FATHER — THE HERMIT ❞

Jealous. No, he wasn't jealous. They looked awful and although Bakugou was decorated with bone accessories, anything that reminded him of his previous human life made him deeply uncomfortable. The Reaver snarls at the Alaskan male, "Do that and I'll just use it for my next bonfire." He wasn't kidding either. The chimney from the roof of his hut was always releasing black smoke, curling as it left into the blue skies. He was always blacksmithing something, always forging. It was the reason why he smelt of burnt metal, charcoal at times because his house was one big hearth. Bakugou raises a brow at Victor. "Seriously? Ya had to wrestle a motherfuckin' seagull?" Those kinds of birds were child's play to the ragdoll. They may be nuisances, perhaps a little more clever than most animals, but they weren't much of a threat. It was the same thing he felt about crabs. Anyone who couldn't fight off a simple, little crab probably needed their life checked out. "You're useless."