He moved outside to do his smithing, tirelessly moving everything outside for him to work on a weapon. He still hasn't perfected trying to forge a sword. It was nearly impossible because he didn't have opposable thumbs but he knew what it should have looked like, knew the technique he should have been able to replicate. It was hard and after a while the Reaver chose to take a break, sitting beneath the shade of an overhanging tree as he stares bitterly at the fragments of stone scattered about. Ashes cling to his long fur, coating his usual lightness with a coal-like appearance. There was nothing to be proud about when it came to Bakugou's presentation, the look of black particles smeared across him. And yet the Reaver lacks the ability to care. He's not trying to impress anyone, he doesn't need to look nice. After all, if he takes care of his appearance for one day then they'll expect him to do it for other days. No thanks, he thinks, he'd rather save it for some special occasion. Maybe a wedding, maybe a funeral. But for now, Bakugou will leave himself be.

He knows he should probably get up soon. The longer he sits here, the more he will let the warmth of the sun take over, cause the male to slowly close his eyes and drift to sleep. He hasn't been sleeping well lately. Once again, he's become afraid of closing his eyes. He thought he was over this too. He was so wrong. Ever since that defeat, waking up confused and angry from his coma, he remembers just how vulnerable he really is. He's always accepted that he was mortal, capable of dying in horrible ways, but there was a difference between acknowledging it and letting the sensation truly hit you. No living thing wants to die - that's what he thinks. But now he's afraid of just letting himself sleep, afraid that if he closes his eyes he will wake up eons away from where he is now. He might even wake up in another world, back in his original world or someplace entirely new. That in itself was scary. He's torn between two universes. One that he was stuck in, the other that he longed to see again...the other that he was now afraid of because he knows that ever since coming to The Typhoon, his perspective of the world will never be the same again.

The ragdoll freezes when he begins to hear rustling, ears twisting and rotating about to decipher if he was hearing the wind or if they were pawsteps coming towards him. He can't let others see himself look too comfortable, too relaxed and possessed by an eerie sentiment. He doesn't trust his feelings with others and would rather that whoever seemed to be lurking around (for his nose was clouded by the smell of ash) was an enemy. That way he can fight them off, let them run of with a flaming ass and crying, than have to enter a verbal argument with another pirate. But knowing the soreness of his limbs, he wonders if fighting is even a good idea. He's too tired. Suddenly, at the sound of a snapping twig, Bakugou jerks upwards in reflex, accidentally kicking at one of his stone axes that it came flying at him. He panicked, wishing to grasp it with his hands to catch it before remembering he was a feline and that hands were a thing of the past... but why was the stone axe hovering in the air, refusing to fall as if he was holding it like he had imagined? He blinks confusedly, stepping back and cursing softly when it drops to the ground with a thud.

Bakugou looks around uncomfortably, wondering if anyone was there. "Fuckin' show yourself, coward."

"Why so paranoid?" His ears stand erect, still and unmoving. He knows this voice, he knows exactly who it belongs to and Bakugou is already scowling, scrunching his nose at Victor's teasing suggestion. Forbidden lover. He rolls his eyes. Yeah right, as if some idiot would love him. Somehow he finds it more unbelievable for someone to ever harbour feelings for him than for him to feel love himself. Bakugou growls, grumbling to himself words that could not be deciphered to Victor. The sled dog could probably assume that he was just swearing and insulting the husky, calling male a number of insults for intruding him when all he wanted was a little privacy. He felt invaded to know that such a place he thought was quiet and peaceful was in fact roamed around by the likes of Victor. The Reaver stands, flicking his tail behind him when he returns to his bench, deciding to continue working on as if the other male wasn't there. He was so desperate to just ignore him, pretend that the canine didn't irk him one bit. But he had already made it plenty obvious with his expression and his stiffened mannerisms, uncomfortable that Victor was here.

After a few clangs, piercing to his ears, Bakugou stopped and looked straight at the husky. Smoke steams from his nostrils, nose sprinkled in ashes. He doesn't sneeze, clearly used to the particles floating about the air. "The fuck are you doin' out 'ere anyway?" he asks, demanding an answer when he turns back around, sorting out stone pieces to put together. Bakugou begins to notice one of the rocks seeming to shake for a moment, as if it were moving by invisible hands. He blinks. "Are you doin' that?"