Back in his old world, he had heard strangers talk about their fears of dying in an unknown place, the idea of being buried in an alien land. He had never really minded because he didn't think much of his body's dignity after death. As far as he was concerned, death was the absolute end, the full stop to a sentence. No more could be continued unless it were new life. And yet he was wrong, plague with the sensation of death, horrified of the void emptiness that consumed his body whilst his soul drifted. When he re-opened his eyes into this strange world, he realised he would die here, this place would become his grave sooner or later. Although some days the past rattled him like a mouse in a trap, he was beginning to notice that he would be experiencing his first winter here. The coldness of Autumn was beginning to take shape, his sanguine eyes noticing the sudden shivers of pirates, the alabaster breaths that materialised before his lips. The weather was dreadful and the rains made it far more annoying when it came to his use of fire. It didn't burn his flames out but he still had to throw in extra effort and soils often became mud, the water content making it difficult for him to try to manipulate. Then again, he saw it as a good opportunity to work on his abilities even further.

Today, however, seemed to be a rather good one. Aside from now no longer feeling comfortable walking through Barracuda Bay, often seeing stares and whispers in regards to the fact that he was now a Quartermaster, he was able to go about his usual routine just fine. Admittedly, he had been a little slow to come to terms with everything. Nothing felt right and the one change in his position within The Typhoon led the male to notice the smallest of things. He noticed the tiniest of scratches on one of his pieces of armour, the smudge across one of his blades, the light grains that spread across his table. They now bothered him, disturbing his once peaceful perspective. Bakugou had been trying so hard lately to be calmer, let his emotions ease aside that his own feelings were stone-cold, locked and repressed for him to finally stop to analyse what was happening around him. In understanding the situations that echoed, his own emotions were eased, tranquil from revelation. Now everything had changed around, his prison of emotions escaping, running away like a flock of frightened birds.

During his walking, it didn't take long for him to come to a clearing and see the mountain of sticks, toppled on top of one another, a mass to be marveled at. Feliks had done a lot of work and, if he remembered correctly amidst his distracted thoughts, Luciferus was due to hold some kind of session. Sparring, perhaps. He knew that the dragon excelled in combat, not one he would ever wish to meet in battle. Not now, at least. His eyes couldn't help but continue to scan the way the griffon had carefully adjusted and added to the scenery - the food, the bed of hay for others to sleep in, the game of horseshoes, the broken down stereo. He didn't feel deserving of his position. If anyone deserved to skip ranks, jumping straight to deputy, he could suggest that Feliks would have been the best choice. He felt awful just knowing that others were more deserving than him, biting his lip when he thought back of Caesar's outburst. Truth be told, he had thought the same. Part of him, in those nanoseconds of time, had thought Caesar was going to be promoted twice in the meeting.

"Verse me in horseshoes, birdbrain," Bakugou says to Feliks, forcing himself away from his thoughts. His own gaze looked clouded, mystified by his negative mind. The best way to go about his feelings would be to be active, throw his energy towards something else until he was too exhausted to hate himself and his memories.

There were more fire hazards than there should be here. Pip could feel the heat wavering off of it from where he stood, and it had his stomach clenching, raw skin prickling, but he did his best not to indulge the foolishness. Nonetheless, he kept the fire at his front, where he could see it, and further scrutinized the area. The leaves had been swept away, at least, but then Feliks had -for some reason- chosen to set out hay. Lots of it, as though for participants to lie upon, and he would have felt more comfortable if there were some sort of barrier between the bonfire and the hay, but it wasn't a fire pit. He was certain someone had the ability to control the fire should it escape, though that did not comfort him very much, and the young canine checked on the aloe supply given to him by Val, just in case. It was the only reason Pip decided to stay, seating himself at the periphery of the area, glancing briefly at the stick in the dirt, at the game clearly meant for it. Bakugou was the only other person besides Feliks present, and had some interest in the horseshoes.

Pip wouldn't participate, though, instead pulling out small tins from his satchel to work on creating more first-aid pouches, occasionally looking to the bonfire, as though making certain nothing had happened yet. Staring at it so often wasn't especially reassuring, in all honesty.
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Events didn't usually take long to begin filling, funneling with members, brimming with new life. While one could be concerned by the fire hazard that was the bonfire and the hay, Bakugou didn't feel particularly concerned. As egotistical as it sounded, he was here to make sure everything went smoothly. If the fire dared to erupt embers onto the flammable pelts of members, he would be there to bend the flames away, throw them into the sky. By then the molten glow would die before hitting the soil or grass, avoiding any outbreaks. The appearance of Luciferus only furthered the safety of the group. No one should have been concerned about anything but the male twitches an ear at the dragon's offer. Bakugou could make fireworks too in that case, a little threatened by the eldrich creature's usefulness compared to his own but refusing to allow himself to get too caught up in his thoughts. He didn't want such evasive feelings to ruin his night, soon recognising the familiar alabaster of Victor. He was almost fond of the husky's appearance mostly because he had spoken to him so many times.

"Okay," he says rather indifferently, picking up a horseshoe with his earth elementals before gripping it between his jaws. It was heavier than he expected but, at the same time, he was quickly used to the weight. In all honesty, the Quartermaster would rather have used his telekinetic abilities to throw the bent metal but he had a feeling no one would be particularly happy with him doing that. It would ruin part of the challenge as he turned his head and swung to let the momentum overtake the horseshoe, throwing it in the right direction but missing the target to the right. He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, agitated before looking at Victor or anyone else wishing to play, expecting them to take their turn after him.