10-20-2018, 09:03 AM
[ ooc ] he can see baku's aura. i'm not really sure what you mean by a description of his aura though?
The ocean looks calm today. The waters are cold, beginning to freeze with the coming winter. There is a reflective shine, twinkling like a starry night as they peacefully shift back and forth. The sea glitters back at him. They wink at his glassy hues - filled with serenity. The ocean holds a tranquil gaze as Bakugou strides across the beach, his earthly abilities causing the sand beneath his paws to compact. Perfect prints form behind him. A few grains dare to sprinkle over the delicate details of his steps, eventually becoming swept away by the brush of a gentle wind that strokes his cream-coloured fur. Calmness is not one imagines when pertaining to the memory of this particular Reaver. No, he was too loud and aggressive. There is a constant hostility that flickers from his tongue, a distaste upon his buds as if everything he ate was sour and bitter. For some time now, however, he's found himself on a record. He feels too serene to growl and snap now. It was probably because he needed peace. He needs more time to just let himself think. Perhaps it was why many pirates took up beach walks in their spare time rather than something more demanding such as hunting or blacksmithing. It was the sensation of doing nothing, letting himself be and exist for nothing more but the moment ahead of him. He has no plans for now, only that he wants to keep walking and walking until his legs refused to move.
He's never feared drowning. He knows how to swim and he's not particularly afraid of what's beneath the dark abyss of water. The creatures that lurk and swim within the depths are no match for him. They are unaccustomed to the taste of fire, unaware of the abilities he possessed and trained to the limit. He is familiar with his own combinations, always improving and evolving his capabilities that he feels comfortable with fighting just about anyone. And yet, after his ego had been shut down by his 'fellow privateer', he's also careful not to engage in battles in which a clear loss shone ahead of him. He knows better now than to pick fights with beasts before learning anything about them. It is good to assess and to understand. His intelligence, after all, seems to have been hardwired to the workings of battle. Combat is like a second language to him. There is a thrill to the way his body can move so swiftly, the sensation of being agile and allowing his body to twist and move throughout the air as he switches from offense to defense, or defense to offense.
Maybe he realises it's happier this way. If he hadn't built up such a particular reputation, he would maybe even smile at bypassers during his walk around the island. He can't do that. To attempt to drop all the history he's made so far would be a waste of his time and effort. No one will believe him, everyone will think he has an ulterior motive and that frustrates him. He's fallen down a hole that he can't get up from no matter how much firepower he has to keep lifting himself. Even after restarting in this wretched place, he's made enemies already. There's no going back now. No redemption at the end of the tunnel. It's endless, a circle, always in the dark and following the tracks that led to nowhere, never elsewhere. It's also his fault. He assumes he knows the end and will therefore never try. If others tried to be genuine with their shot at redemption, he wouldn't believe them either. Maybe it was his subconscious' way of telling him that he wouldn't like himself if he met himself. He would dread himself, hate himself, wish himself away and banished to the bottom of the ocean. Shackled, chained, left to drown in a dark unknown where no air can reach him.
Bakugou closes his eyes, stopping atop solid sand. He feels the tide circle around his ankles before being drawn back in again, shifting back and forth with no aim or purpose. His sanguine orbs open to stare bitterly and painfully at the white froth that forms, filling his pawprints behind him until evidence of his presence had been erased. His nose twitches as if there was a fly bothering him, continuing to stare indifferently at the shape the water made. Moments, seconds, minutes. Everything feels timeless. Slow and fast. He doesn't know how long he's been here, body still and unwavering. He doesn't so much as quiver at a particularly cold breeze. He forgets he's even here, he forgets why he's here. Bakugou pulls his eyes away. He feels like a fish, suddenly lured by a bright light because beneath the surface the ocean is dark and brooding. It's hard to know where everything is, hard to see the sun above because it is obscured by particles of water and packed air. Noise if muffled, suffocated by the water that fills the ears and embraces the body.
He winces and feels his body shudder back to life, breaking from his silent trance when he hears ringing from the railroad. Truthfully, he's never thought that one might feel foolish or strange for ringing the bell. He's always thought them to be annoying and impatient if they rung the bell more than once, ignorant and stupid if they rung the bell while shouting over it thus making any attempt at communication redundant. He's always thought it to the The Typhoon's inconvenience and not the visitors. The Reaver sighs, rolling his shoulders so to loosen his tired knots before laying his critical eyes upon the foreigner. He notices the trademark scent of Sunhaven, realising the male was not as much of a stranger as he thought he was. As Bakugou got closer too, he begins to notice just how large the cougar happened to be. It wasn't a mistake of his eyes. This was reality, feeling as if part of the reason as to why the other seemed so large was also because Bakugou was only a ragdoll of all creatures. Something about this male seemed to give off a powerful air...probably because he feels unsettled by the large sword upon the Sunhavener's back and the armour that he wore, imagining the other to be exceptional in combat. As Bakugou was a blacksmith himself, he could discern everything the other wore to be of good quality.
"What do you want here?" the Reaver asks, daring to lock eyes onto to the larger male. He wasn't intimidated. Bakugou refuses to feel afraid in his own territory, his own home. If he felt afraid here then he would feel safe nowhere.
The ocean looks calm today. The waters are cold, beginning to freeze with the coming winter. There is a reflective shine, twinkling like a starry night as they peacefully shift back and forth. The sea glitters back at him. They wink at his glassy hues - filled with serenity. The ocean holds a tranquil gaze as Bakugou strides across the beach, his earthly abilities causing the sand beneath his paws to compact. Perfect prints form behind him. A few grains dare to sprinkle over the delicate details of his steps, eventually becoming swept away by the brush of a gentle wind that strokes his cream-coloured fur. Calmness is not one imagines when pertaining to the memory of this particular Reaver. No, he was too loud and aggressive. There is a constant hostility that flickers from his tongue, a distaste upon his buds as if everything he ate was sour and bitter. For some time now, however, he's found himself on a record. He feels too serene to growl and snap now. It was probably because he needed peace. He needs more time to just let himself think. Perhaps it was why many pirates took up beach walks in their spare time rather than something more demanding such as hunting or blacksmithing. It was the sensation of doing nothing, letting himself be and exist for nothing more but the moment ahead of him. He has no plans for now, only that he wants to keep walking and walking until his legs refused to move.
He's never feared drowning. He knows how to swim and he's not particularly afraid of what's beneath the dark abyss of water. The creatures that lurk and swim within the depths are no match for him. They are unaccustomed to the taste of fire, unaware of the abilities he possessed and trained to the limit. He is familiar with his own combinations, always improving and evolving his capabilities that he feels comfortable with fighting just about anyone. And yet, after his ego had been shut down by his 'fellow privateer', he's also careful not to engage in battles in which a clear loss shone ahead of him. He knows better now than to pick fights with beasts before learning anything about them. It is good to assess and to understand. His intelligence, after all, seems to have been hardwired to the workings of battle. Combat is like a second language to him. There is a thrill to the way his body can move so swiftly, the sensation of being agile and allowing his body to twist and move throughout the air as he switches from offense to defense, or defense to offense.
Maybe he realises it's happier this way. If he hadn't built up such a particular reputation, he would maybe even smile at bypassers during his walk around the island. He can't do that. To attempt to drop all the history he's made so far would be a waste of his time and effort. No one will believe him, everyone will think he has an ulterior motive and that frustrates him. He's fallen down a hole that he can't get up from no matter how much firepower he has to keep lifting himself. Even after restarting in this wretched place, he's made enemies already. There's no going back now. No redemption at the end of the tunnel. It's endless, a circle, always in the dark and following the tracks that led to nowhere, never elsewhere. It's also his fault. He assumes he knows the end and will therefore never try. If others tried to be genuine with their shot at redemption, he wouldn't believe them either. Maybe it was his subconscious' way of telling him that he wouldn't like himself if he met himself. He would dread himself, hate himself, wish himself away and banished to the bottom of the ocean. Shackled, chained, left to drown in a dark unknown where no air can reach him.
Bakugou closes his eyes, stopping atop solid sand. He feels the tide circle around his ankles before being drawn back in again, shifting back and forth with no aim or purpose. His sanguine orbs open to stare bitterly and painfully at the white froth that forms, filling his pawprints behind him until evidence of his presence had been erased. His nose twitches as if there was a fly bothering him, continuing to stare indifferently at the shape the water made. Moments, seconds, minutes. Everything feels timeless. Slow and fast. He doesn't know how long he's been here, body still and unwavering. He doesn't so much as quiver at a particularly cold breeze. He forgets he's even here, he forgets why he's here. Bakugou pulls his eyes away. He feels like a fish, suddenly lured by a bright light because beneath the surface the ocean is dark and brooding. It's hard to know where everything is, hard to see the sun above because it is obscured by particles of water and packed air. Noise if muffled, suffocated by the water that fills the ears and embraces the body.
He winces and feels his body shudder back to life, breaking from his silent trance when he hears ringing from the railroad. Truthfully, he's never thought that one might feel foolish or strange for ringing the bell. He's always thought them to be annoying and impatient if they rung the bell more than once, ignorant and stupid if they rung the bell while shouting over it thus making any attempt at communication redundant. He's always thought it to the The Typhoon's inconvenience and not the visitors. The Reaver sighs, rolling his shoulders so to loosen his tired knots before laying his critical eyes upon the foreigner. He notices the trademark scent of Sunhaven, realising the male was not as much of a stranger as he thought he was. As Bakugou got closer too, he begins to notice just how large the cougar happened to be. It wasn't a mistake of his eyes. This was reality, feeling as if part of the reason as to why the other seemed so large was also because Bakugou was only a ragdoll of all creatures. Something about this male seemed to give off a powerful air...probably because he feels unsettled by the large sword upon the Sunhavener's back and the armour that he wore, imagining the other to be exceptional in combat. As Bakugou was a blacksmith himself, he could discern everything the other wore to be of good quality.
"What do you want here?" the Reaver asks, daring to lock eyes onto to the larger male. He wasn't intimidated. Bakugou refuses to feel afraid in his own territory, his own home. If he felt afraid here then he would feel safe nowhere.