11-13-2018, 06:33 AM
The powers Bakugou had received in life had been a pain to obtain. He never even asked for them but his body self-destructed time and time again, breaking itself anew. He had three abilities. The first were his fire elementals, first manifesting physically upon his joining. It was like a leech to his energy, making him feel as if he was going to have a heat stroke, burning every fibre of his body. He felt far too hot, nauseous and unable to contain himself because his emotions ran wild, feral at heart. Seeing Tokoyami was when his abilities first became apparent to him, the fire that he felt hearing up inside of him had been real, intangible but searing to touch that he burnt the ground beneath his paws. Ever since then, his blood would always be beyond a temperature that would be considered normal. It used to seep his muscles, his ability to do work because he could never control or turn it off, forcing himself to always tire himself out the moment he felt an explosive anger surging within himself. To his luck, he found that blacksmithing was a perfect way to vent, the unleash his frustrations against metal and stone whilst also training his strength and fire.
Then there was his teleportation. To prepare his body to be able to manifest such an ability (an ability he never asked for), his cells begun to act on their own accord. They ripped themselves out of the plane of reality, drew themselves back, breaking and fixing themselves so quickly that nothing wrong was apparent on the feline's surface. But he felt it all, organs seeming to move places, his heart forgetting its own job. It came to the point that some of his cells incorrectly teleported, flipping inside out that he coughed out blood from his own internal bleeding. While his teleportation was good for the long run, it is near impossible for him to forget the pain it had caused him. He had even been desperate that time, having painkillers to the point that his own brain felt numb of his usual rage that laid dormant, still swarming but silent. Almost comparable to his teleportation was his earth elementals. They had come so suddenly, appearing like the universe's gift unto him when Luca shred him to pieces. The earth had opened, swallowed his body whole, protected him like a mother cradles her child. Below the surface, for almost two weeks, the ragdoll regenerated. He didn't even realise he had those powers until the one day he nearly dropped a dagger on himself.
While he originally felt a strange jealousy to the idea of shapeshifting, he is intimidated by the possible pain that his body must go through to be able to harbour such an ability. He can only imagine the intensity of growing bones and moving organs, snapping and pulling into place - a stretching face, a coiling body, toes sinking inwards. It could be on par with how it felt to teleport when he was reaching his limit because sometimes it felt as if his own powers were killing him.
The Quartermaster doesn't think he has seen an egyptian mau on the island before, not seeing the feline take off his collar that would have alerted Bakugou that he was, indeed, Victor. With most scenarios involving a pirate staring at their own reflection, the ragdoll would merely roll his eyes and walk away. He doesn't see any point in talking to extras, those who held little to no reputation because they were merely pawns in a game of chess. Their names were insignificant but, instead of leaving, the cream-tabby finds himself hesitating. He was Quartermaster now, right beneath the Captain. While he still doesn't see himself as deserving of the job, seeing Goldenluxury as far better in the position alone than in the company of Bakugou, he knows he should at least make the effort in being bearable around his crewmates...maybe even bother talking to them. His ears feel hot. "Oi slacker," Bakugou calls out, not recognising that it was Victor. Then again, the ragdoll always calls out former-Striker for not doing his job. "How 'bout you stop staring at yourself and patrol the island or something. Don't be a waste of air."
Then there was his teleportation. To prepare his body to be able to manifest such an ability (an ability he never asked for), his cells begun to act on their own accord. They ripped themselves out of the plane of reality, drew themselves back, breaking and fixing themselves so quickly that nothing wrong was apparent on the feline's surface. But he felt it all, organs seeming to move places, his heart forgetting its own job. It came to the point that some of his cells incorrectly teleported, flipping inside out that he coughed out blood from his own internal bleeding. While his teleportation was good for the long run, it is near impossible for him to forget the pain it had caused him. He had even been desperate that time, having painkillers to the point that his own brain felt numb of his usual rage that laid dormant, still swarming but silent. Almost comparable to his teleportation was his earth elementals. They had come so suddenly, appearing like the universe's gift unto him when Luca shred him to pieces. The earth had opened, swallowed his body whole, protected him like a mother cradles her child. Below the surface, for almost two weeks, the ragdoll regenerated. He didn't even realise he had those powers until the one day he nearly dropped a dagger on himself.
While he originally felt a strange jealousy to the idea of shapeshifting, he is intimidated by the possible pain that his body must go through to be able to harbour such an ability. He can only imagine the intensity of growing bones and moving organs, snapping and pulling into place - a stretching face, a coiling body, toes sinking inwards. It could be on par with how it felt to teleport when he was reaching his limit because sometimes it felt as if his own powers were killing him.
The Quartermaster doesn't think he has seen an egyptian mau on the island before, not seeing the feline take off his collar that would have alerted Bakugou that he was, indeed, Victor. With most scenarios involving a pirate staring at their own reflection, the ragdoll would merely roll his eyes and walk away. He doesn't see any point in talking to extras, those who held little to no reputation because they were merely pawns in a game of chess. Their names were insignificant but, instead of leaving, the cream-tabby finds himself hesitating. He was Quartermaster now, right beneath the Captain. While he still doesn't see himself as deserving of the job, seeing Goldenluxury as far better in the position alone than in the company of Bakugou, he knows he should at least make the effort in being bearable around his crewmates...maybe even bother talking to them. His ears feel hot. "Oi slacker," Bakugou calls out, not recognising that it was Victor. Then again, the ragdoll always calls out former-Striker for not doing his job. "How 'bout you stop staring at yourself and patrol the island or something. Don't be a waste of air."