07-27-2018, 06:57 AM
It was all too easy to recount the multitude of frustrations he had faced. He would love to go on a rant, unleash a pitiful sob story about how he had died and come back to life thinking everything had been a joke. But, as Bakugou quickly came to grasps, sulking wouldn't do a thing. He let time run by as it usually did; he got used to his new situation, still keeping his past life in the back of his mind. He'll find a way, he knew he would and all he had to do was survive long enough until the time came. He'll spare everyone from having to hear his stupid history - not because he was being nice but because it sounded foolish and pathetic on his part, and this was the way Bakugo had been for the past month or so. He was exploring a new world, grumbling about what could have been and secretly feeling awkward and strange when he adjusted to his new life as a 'feline'. He was long over hoping that this had all been a bad dream.
It was the twenty-seventh of July when Bakugou found himself staring at a tropical island, feeling his own eye twitch in mild confusion. Some days he was so busy surviving, trying to get his own quirk working, that he found himself in completely new places. It didn't make sense to him but from a narrative point-of-view it was all too convenient to have him set here, merely gawking at the land. Then the grumpy male furrowed his brows, scowling an ugly face as he sat down. He may not be good at remembering names but he was at least capable of remembering the essentials: this must be a group considering the mingled number of scents that proved a patrol had passed not too long ago. Ah, right, that was one of the pros to being an ugly furball. They could smell things, differentiate one from the other, something his former human nose was not so good at doing.
And now he waits.
It was the twenty-seventh of July when Bakugou found himself staring at a tropical island, feeling his own eye twitch in mild confusion. Some days he was so busy surviving, trying to get his own quirk working, that he found himself in completely new places. It didn't make sense to him but from a narrative point-of-view it was all too convenient to have him set here, merely gawking at the land. Then the grumpy male furrowed his brows, scowling an ugly face as he sat down. He may not be good at remembering names but he was at least capable of remembering the essentials: this must be a group considering the mingled number of scents that proved a patrol had passed not too long ago. Ah, right, that was one of the pros to being an ugly furball. They could smell things, differentiate one from the other, something his former human nose was not so good at doing.
And now he waits.