let me see what you have / cc got a knife

[no more]

[align=center][div style="max-width: 360px; line-height:120%; font-family: calibri; font-size: 8.5pt; text-align: justify; margin-bottom:5px"][ ❖ ] ;; – It seemed not to matter how short the life before them had been, few the days they had seen raise with the pale tones of pink and orange swirling together into fine strokes along the ragged edge of mountain peaks, ending within much the same fashion as beyond them the sun dipped, they had screwed up at each turn. Or so it was said, faint the voices touching along the sides of skull, breaking the fragile structure of thought.

Difficult had it been, first breath taken around the weakening pressure of another pressing to nose and mouth, gasping thing broken as whimper found itself perched upon tongue. Pain had laced so tiny a throat, scrunched the golden cinnamon features until he had been there, gentle warmth about so frail a child. Within each touch he had expressed only affection – undeserving waste of space, pitiful burden that should not be permitted to draw breath, love they leaned into and sought yet never felt was worthy of. She had made sure of such thought, implanted it until the mind scrambled for such things, sought end to each pain.

“I'm sorry...” How many times before had the words found their tongue, rose from it upon broken, shuddering exhale. Different was it now, teeth held tight yet between them still rose the sob, harsh the rub of paw along eyes. Within the sand before them sat a knife, nothing of any great worth of note, but a simple blade. About the handle was wrapped leather, tip of the blade somewhat curved. Carefully they took it up, strange the weight of it slotted between small teeth, digging into the hide.

Tongue pressed to hilt, unsure the first step, protest of muscle drawing across soft features a grimace. Within the fire they had sustained a great deal of damage, the heat of the fire searing still within skin that had been burnt away, no matter the covering of bandages still painful. Again they moved, leg stretching out and for a few seconds paw hovered, unsure. And then it was placed, the next moving to come down next to it. Slow and painful was the process of walking, gaze set ahead in attempt to ignore those few that milled about within the aftermath of it all, hoping these few may take the hint and allow them to pass.

[ this is after the fire has been dealt with and everyone is being patched up ]

[Grey]

While fire wasn't usually capable of harming Bakugou, he did manage to get a few burns and deep wounds from falling planks of burning wood, falling at a force too quickly that he hadn't managed to react in time. Still, he managed to save the idiot drunkards who had stayed in the Tavern overnight, mildly annoyed that there had been pirates in there in the first place but also strangely satisfied that there were injured members in there to save. Regardless, the reconstruction of the Tavern brought about the community. There was almost as if a positive outcome was being reaped by the destruction. Well, positive if it weren't for the wounds on his body, the bandages that restricted his movements. The lucky thing was that it didn't affect his blacksmithing. While it sapped his own strength from his body, almost everything could be done telekinetically with his earth and fire elementals. At the same time, if he had to move outside his house, he could simply expend the energy with teleportation. Ever since his training, his ability to use his powers had significantly increased. He felt far less exhausted using them excessively.

The glint of a blade caught Bakugou's attention during a walk outside, heart almost sinking when he saw it was CCLIV who was holding it because associating the unnamed kid with a knife didn't fare well in his mind. He was puzzled with how to feel, suddenly fixated that he simply had to approach to get a closer look. They were the small, young kitten who used to sit in his forge and watch him work. While he didn't mind them being around, sometimes cursing in their presence, he liked to have thought that he didn't like them being there. He was almost wrong because now his hut felt an uneasy emptiness. The other memories he associates with the child are strange, remembering that once upon a time the ragdoll had sewed them a spider costume. He thought it to be a funny prank but perhaps too much effort had gone into the moment. His ears twitch, not particularly trusting the child's ability to wield a weapon but also mildly impressed. "What's that knife for?" the young Quartermaster asks, though tempted to tell them to be careful with it. He has a feeling they could drop it at any time and hurt themself, slice through her own flesh. Then again, he was ready for it to happen, knowing that he could manipulate the metal and pull it away should they accidentally have the knife lung towards skin.

[bubblegum]

[no more]

[align=center][div style="max-width: 420px; line-height:120%; font-family: arial; font-size: 8.5pt; text-align: justify; margin-bottom:5px"]Funny is it the way certain individuals find those small spaces between walls, broke through mortar that had crumbled between each brick once thought carefully placed until the heart was locked away where none may find it. More so may it be when once more walls are constructed until the old proves no longer necessary, greater the construct to be sure nothing may break through, the feelings of affection pushed away.

Difficult had it been within those first days to permit the other in to a heart that felt only the touch of hate, knew the presence of it as it tainted the lining of lungs and worked through the fibre of every muscle, toned every action performed. From the harsh action of one deemed mother – bitter such a word, rolling upon the tongue as though it were a heavy stone pressing atop the muscle – they had learnt to allow none within. And yet he had found a way. It mattered not his actions to push others aside, the heat within the way he structured his words nor every action to keep others at arms length for reasoning the youth may only guess at, special was the place within heart and mind. Strange was such lines of thought, found within the faint want to please him and find within the sanguine tone of eyes glimmer of pride, lacking within those others they had sought to make happy with each feeble attempt be better themself.

Between teeth the blade shifted and they swallowed, found difficultly in such when tongue curled about the hilt, the slickness of saliva along it leaving it to fall from weakened grasp. Lucky were they in that it felt away from paws that had taken a slight tremble, as had the lips that struggled to form words, head turning so Bakugou may not see the tears gathering in dark eyes. Part of it is faint the want to finally tell him, speak of the odd warmth of affection they felt around him and caught upon tongue title not his own to bare, and yet more is the loss. Indeed do they remember the suit made for them, careful in every action until it had been made to replicate a spider of great size. So too do they remember the skin of the fake fur burning, the plastic tang of it hanging in the air, scorching as it rode upon smoke filled breath.

Spared from answering, at least for the moment. Uneasy the shuffle of paws, the draw of body into itself as they lifted their gaze for but a brief moment towards Goldie, flicking back down to rest atop cinnamon toned paws. “I'm sorry, I... wanted to help but I don't know where the bad guys are,” feeble attempt at smile, light the curl of it before once more frown takes hold. There are no others words, breath caught in throat before head is shifting, a slight nod in response to the offer.

[ikaia]

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⚓ IKAIA | current track ♪ | current shape: oncilla | engaging. . . |
"That's alright," the boy murmured, smiling brightly as he approached, catching CC's apology.  "You'll get 'em next time," he offered, brown eyes bright.  Indeed, Ikaia planned on giving their enemies a piece of his own mind. "Especially once Goldie teaches ya how to use that blade." Though children with sharp objects was not the best... Thing to encourage, he wasn't one to complain.  They were pirates, weren't they?

The shapeshifter had never considered wielding a weapon before.  Not a lot of purpose in it, when he could always shift into something with larger and sharper claws if necessary.  The youthful oncilla flicked his tail, curious.  Perhaps he ought to learn how to at least hold one too sometime.  Just in case.

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( you are the dawn of a new day that's waking, a masterpiece still in the making )

[bubblegum]

[no more]

[align=center][div style="max-width: 420px; line-height:120%; font-family: arial; font-size: 8.5pt; text-align: justify; margin-bottom:5px"][ late as fuck reply but not letting this die ]

Unfamiliar the voice, stranger within all ways. Flick of earth toned gaze touching upon the other, as they are different, set apart amongst the others who bare the shape of a feline for it is not the domestic or those more common but something set apart, their own unique being. Brief the lift of pale toned lips, though about its edges apparent is the unease, the want to fall away into a frown once more. Strange is he, this odd being set apart from all for the mere fact he is not like them, skin beneath the cinnamon dusted fur prickling. “They won't know what hit em,” quiet the hint of laughter beneath words, the glimmer of teeth filled with spaces where some had fallen from the pink gums.

Indeed it was not an idea many may think good, find within a reason to encourage such behaviour, but their ways were their own, something made for them. The title of pirate felt loose, ill fitting in some ways but in a great many it fit into the function of their lives, worked until all that was outside of it found within its place. It mattered little they were not born upon the island, their life began elsewhere with the harsh touch of an uncaring mother, but here they had found something more.

“Okay, I promise,” tone grew solemn, slight the shift of their head. For how young the child was it grew clear they were sharp, gathering information readily though not all was understood, stored away to be drawn upon later, words finding a place within a growing vocabulary though it broke away much of the time, grown simple over time for easier was it when they simple wished to get a point across. “Cooking?” Slight the tilt to cinnamon toned head as the word left pale lips, grown curious. Many times CC had watched Goldie about her work, found watching her handling her tools with practised ease enjoyable, though difficult was it to say as to why. As of yet they had made few attempts to actively assist, their fumbling even of the blunted instrument making it clear it was for the best at this point.