11-06-2018, 10:14 PM
Goldenluxury's form was broken. The scars and wounds that plagued her body was a sore sight, disruptive of her appearance, distracting and threatening to define her as vulnerable. Well, if he was honest, he had always viewed the Dealer as frail, weak and in need of protection. She was always getting harmed. Ironically, she was the most enduring of hardships considering the state of her back, the fact that she had to use a walking stick to get around while also living up to her duties as an assistant deputy within The Typhoon. Then again, there was no use pitying yourself. He knew that some people were given less than others, but it was how they went about their lives. There was once a time he cried - cried because he couldn't stand the idea of being weak. He looked up to others, felt himself overwhelmed by envy, the desire for greatness. Sometimes Bakugou sulked too much, unhappy with his position in life. There were so many things that the Reaver wanted, so little that the universe could give him, only so much that he could do for himself. He was weak too.
It was the smell of fire that caught his attention, the usual thick black smoke brought about a scent of familiarity for the male. The way the fog of black curled into the air, embers flying from the base, felt almost foreboding when the Reaver approached, eyes assessing the situation. He doubts that it was Luciferus who started the fire, the large dragon quiet when his gaze soon drops towards the bengal, nonchalance flickering over him like a wave. The building was like a bonfire, heat overwhelming to even the fire-wielding male. He saw the marshmallow on the stick, saying nothing at first when he approaches and sits behind her, basking in the high temperatures. "You okay?" the ragdoll finally asks, speaking over the blaring crackles of the burning building. It seemed strange to see her roasting marshmallows beside something that usually brought a lot of grief. Then again, he knew little about the lives of other members in The Typhoon. He should have made a better effort to connect with them.
It was the smell of fire that caught his attention, the usual thick black smoke brought about a scent of familiarity for the male. The way the fog of black curled into the air, embers flying from the base, felt almost foreboding when the Reaver approached, eyes assessing the situation. He doubts that it was Luciferus who started the fire, the large dragon quiet when his gaze soon drops towards the bengal, nonchalance flickering over him like a wave. The building was like a bonfire, heat overwhelming to even the fire-wielding male. He saw the marshmallow on the stick, saying nothing at first when he approaches and sits behind her, basking in the high temperatures. "You okay?" the ragdoll finally asks, speaking over the blaring crackles of the burning building. It seemed strange to see her roasting marshmallows beside something that usually brought a lot of grief. Then again, he knew little about the lives of other members in The Typhoon. He should have made a better effort to connect with them.