11-02-2018, 08:31 AM
To be physically and spiritually bonded is not something he's ever thought much about. The topic has crossed his mind a number of times but such ideas felt too...surreal. To dare imagine that someone was capable of sharing how he felt and what he thought felt too intrusive, he doesn't like the idea of his privacy being broken. When he had heard about the case with Luca and Marcellus, he initially thought it to be one big prank, but it soon became obvious that it was no joke. Like the strangeness of prehistoric creatures existing, so could the quirkiness of a mental bond exist within the world's fragments and strings of time. Powers and magic in this world was as natural as the sea, shifting and pulling, moving nightly and daily. It was easy to become lost in watching the sea, easy to drown in the midst of the ocean, being drawn deeper and deeper to the bottom. He wouldn't mind the idea of just stopping. He has no more ambitions in life. He felt as if he was a underwater plant, detached kelp, drifting and moving aimlessly. Bakugou used to be afraid of death until he realised his new life here was a cursed one. He felt lonely from this sensation, lonely because he didn't have anything to build towards. He could continue to become better and better...but then what? He doesn't have a purpose here.
Ikaia's trip had happened so suddenly that it seemed natural in the backdrop he was viewing. It didn't feel irregular enough for his sanguine eyes to snap towards the child and wonder what had happened. Truthfully, he didn't care much about the children on the island. They were extras, filling up The Typhoon to make the place feel prosperous and alive. If they put themselves in danger, he would probably look the other way. He was never really good with rescuing others, never really had to patience. But it was Victor's rising form that made him look, narrowing his hues at the sled dog who asked if the child was alright. The Reaver can't help but snort. He never understood anyone's compassion for kids. They were small, annoying, energetic for the wrong reasons. He'd never forget the vexations of that game of chasey Victor had challenged him into, nostrils flaring when the thoughts intrude. Smoke dissipates in front of his face and Bakugou coughs, remembering to control his fire. He may not have full reign on his temper but he should at least know how to control the burning flames inside of him. It was dangerous for him to leave them to fluctuate.
His whiskers twitch when he sees Keona approach, clearly still in pain since her return. Her ribs had been broken. How ungrateful, he thinks, that she is up and about walking. He begins to stand up, fur raised as if he had been electrocuted, ready to go yell at the two poor kids when he suddenly realised why Victor was expressing such concern. His chest tightens, upset. The Typhoon has made him too soft and that was...infuriating. But still, he could see the pain and confusion that had possessed Ikaia, glancing at Keona again in an attempt to try and gather what was happening. "Is he sick or somethin'?" He has a few guesses on the situation but nothing he wants to jump the gun on. He may as well be safe and ask something less sudden and unlikely.
Ikaia's trip had happened so suddenly that it seemed natural in the backdrop he was viewing. It didn't feel irregular enough for his sanguine eyes to snap towards the child and wonder what had happened. Truthfully, he didn't care much about the children on the island. They were extras, filling up The Typhoon to make the place feel prosperous and alive. If they put themselves in danger, he would probably look the other way. He was never really good with rescuing others, never really had to patience. But it was Victor's rising form that made him look, narrowing his hues at the sled dog who asked if the child was alright. The Reaver can't help but snort. He never understood anyone's compassion for kids. They were small, annoying, energetic for the wrong reasons. He'd never forget the vexations of that game of chasey Victor had challenged him into, nostrils flaring when the thoughts intrude. Smoke dissipates in front of his face and Bakugou coughs, remembering to control his fire. He may not have full reign on his temper but he should at least know how to control the burning flames inside of him. It was dangerous for him to leave them to fluctuate.
His whiskers twitch when he sees Keona approach, clearly still in pain since her return. Her ribs had been broken. How ungrateful, he thinks, that she is up and about walking. He begins to stand up, fur raised as if he had been electrocuted, ready to go yell at the two poor kids when he suddenly realised why Victor was expressing such concern. His chest tightens, upset. The Typhoon has made him too soft and that was...infuriating. But still, he could see the pain and confusion that had possessed Ikaia, glancing at Keona again in an attempt to try and gather what was happening. "Is he sick or somethin'?" He has a few guesses on the situation but nothing he wants to jump the gun on. He may as well be safe and ask something less sudden and unlikely.