start of time --- discovery

[ikaia]

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⚓ IKAIA | current track ♪ | current shape: oncilla | waiting. . . |
// [member=265]Keona.[/member]

It started with the sharpness in his chest.  Bleary-eyed, waking up to the sunrise with shallow breaths.  Maybe he bruised something?  The adventurous boy could recall nothing that'd leave him like this.  Experimentally, the little oncilla tried to give shifting a try, supposing maybe it'd go away if... Ow. No.  Definitely not the case.  So the child sat upright...

Immediately regretted it.  "What...?"  Curiously, he proddd at his sides with a paw, searching for any sign of injury.  Nothing.  A weary sigh left his maw, ears flattened.  Pain had origins.  Did not make sense.  Stubbornly, the boy rose to his paws, wincing, and left his hut.  He wasn't going to let strange fantom -- had to be, or-or maybe it was an actual ghost messing with him or something... -- pains stop him from going about his day.

The plan had gone well.  At first.  Until the sharp pain in his chest -- ribs -- made him falter, and step directly on a poor wandering crab.  Said creature distracted the boy from his problem rather quickly, as he waved it off his paw, gritting his teeth.  "Sorry," he muttered halfheartedly towards the direction he'd sent the creature flying.  This was just not his day.  At least it's not bleeding.

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( you are the dawn of a new day that's waking, a masterpiece still in the making )

[darci]

[div style="margin: 0 auto; width: 70%; text-align: justify;"]Tending to the plants outside of his hut had become a small hobby of it. Victor was always awful at keeping any type of plant alive, but these seemed to be thriving. That was, until the seagulls had their way with them. The husky and those beady-eyed bastards never got along, not after the they tried to steal his boot. All while ranting and raving under his breath did the hound try to mend his ruined plants, but he eventually gave up after awhile. He spent quite sometime tearing the whole setup down, throwing the soil and dirt back onto the ground and all the wilting plants were thrown into the treeline, never to be seen again. So much for that hobby.

Victor sat outside of the entrance to his home, staring at the now-empty lot in from of his house. What was he going to put there now for decoration? At this point, he could not care. Blue eyes drew up as the cat came stumbling out of their own hut. Who was this? Victor had been a bit under the weather as of late and spent the past few days in doors, so he was not sure what or who he missed. "Are you alright?" spoke the striker before he rose to his paws. Making his way over, he examined the other, sensing the unease that blanketed the stranger. "Do you need some help?"

[Keona.]

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✯ — keona sibéal ó faoláin. female. striker of the typhoon. blind. rusty spotted cat.  ref. bio.

It took a few days, yet the little striker developed a habit.  One of sneaking out at dawn before either father or uncle could stop her.  The sharp pang in her chest from every movement -- and breath -- meant little to her if she had to spend an entire day inside, or an entire day smothered by the overprotective twins.  Sure, she needed proper rest to heal but... Well, she'd rather rest beneath the palm tree she found, inhaling the fresh ocean air.

There, she relaxed.  Previous tense muscles loosened and quietly the fae just rested there, content for once to stay still.  Until it felt like something had snapped onto her paw.  Pale sea-green hues snapped open, surprised.  Wincing, the striker sat up with a soft grunt and lifted her culprit foot.  Having encountered a crab once, she recognized the sting, yet no weight hung on her paw.  O... Kay.

Voices floated into her ears and she tilted her head, following the sound.  Victor.  Unknowingly, she sought out their auras, trying to feel who it was nearby.  Raising to a wobbly stand, the child, with awkward gait, padded over.  By the time she reached the husky, she wheezed for breath, wincing.  Ribs.  "Kai?"

tá mé i dtiúin — ✯

[Grey]

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]

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⚓ IKAIA | current track ♪ | current shape: oncilla | calculating. . . |
The boy worriedly chewed the inside of his cheek, feeling more disoriented and bemused as time went on.  "I don't..." He frowned, wary.  The crab attack is easily explained, its the strange phantom pain where there should be none that concerned him and Ikaia felt unsure the husky would have an answer.  Did anyone?  A medic... Might.  If the pain wasn't actually originating from an actual wound though...

Ikaia knew nothing of mental connections.  This ignorance revealed itself in the way the child very nearly dismissed the fact his friend had trouble breathing.  Indeed, if the pained exhale had not been felt in his own chest, the pain the fellow child felt manifesting as invisible needles in his own body.  OH. "Keo it's you," the confused boy exclaimed, eyes bright with the satisfaction of an answer.

"Hey Keona... Did you feel a crab pinch you without a crab there?" Double-checking.  He didn't understand what this was.  Was it normal?  Did this happen often?  Did something cause it?  Was it one of their faults?  Was it a permanent effect or only temporary?

"What is this?" Genuine excitement for the unknown thrummed through the young pirate, although wary thoughts began lingering in the back of his mind.  Ikaia had grown up very much alone, with only himself and his thoughts more than not.  The concept that someone had a connection to his mind felt a tad unnerving.  For now though, the boy decided he wanted as much information as possible.  How strong was the apparent link? If he sailed to the other side of the ocean, would she still feel it if he got hurt?  Could they trade actual thoughts?  That seemed easy enough to test, but he wasn't sure he should push her boundaries.  "How does it work?" How'd it happen?

// Mobile

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( you are the dawn of a new day that's waking, a masterpiece still in the making )

[Keona.]

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✯ — keona sibéal ó faoláin. female. striker of the typhoon. blind. rusty spotted cat.  ref. bio.

For a painfully long moment, Keona just regarded the other youth with a blank stare.  She pieced it together the second the words flew out of his mouth, it's you.  Her stomach did a sumersault.  Had she unintentionally linked her mind with Ikaia? There were worse options, certainly, yet the very fact that it had happened disturbed her.

The fae knew a bit about bonds, considering she'd intentionally developed one with her uncle, Seamus, during their time in the Pitt.  A strategic course of action, really, considering this allowed them easy silent communication when Keona, who'd only developed her mental abilities, didn't know how to consistently.  Due to the fact her uncle knew more about mental defenses than her, it meant she could practice keeping someone out of her head too.  So while they were linked, any communication was done purposely with active awareness.

This was not intentional.  Did I do this somehow? She had not tried forming a mental link with anyone else.  No, this couldn't have been her doing.  Yet Ikaia seemed completely clueless.  Iontach.  Holding back a sigh, the tiny feline lifted up the 'afflicted' paw.  "Tá."

Ikaia was her friend, so perhaps it wasn't all bad.  Still, the suddenness of it all made her fur prick.  Slow down. Teasing perhaps, but true annoyance linked into her projected thought.  So this affected emotions too.  Not surprising; she'd been aware of her uncle's too at the start, before they practiced mental guards.

"… It's... A link... They're called bonds." They could figure this out.  Maybe she had done this unintentionally.  Her abilities being fresh and uncontrolled... That did not feel like the answer though.  Perhaps it was chance.  Fate.  Destiny.  Whatever.  Keona oft lacked musings in that direction, for she knew the... Foreverness of her life span.  It seemed odd to consider that long of a life was directed by something else other than her own actions and the actions of others.  Spontanous.

tá mé i dtiúin — ✯

[Grey]

With the two's discussion, he knew immediately what they were dealing with even before Keona had named it. A bond. Another one of the dumb and stupid bonds. They were interesting, sure, but they seemed absolutely dreadful. If he were more open with his pity, he would give the two his condolences but instead stiffens at the foreign language Keona had the tendency to speak in. The Typhoon was strange. They had elementalists, demons and angels, prehistoric beasts and an entire family who spoke in a tongue he never understood. He wondered if it was because of habit but regardless it made him uncomfortable. He didn't like it when they spoke in a language he didn't understand and for once he wished there was someone who happened to speak Japanese, just so Bakugou could flaunt his own bilingual background. Bakugou sighs. It seems that the two children had everything figured out so there was no real reason for him to be here, simply offering an unreadable glance to Victor - maybe some sort of acknowledgement or noting to the male that he found it useless to be here, before turning around and continuing his day. He left as quickly as he came.