#mischievmagic

There isn’t much Dabi can tangibly grasp about his situation, barely cognizant despite the conflicting feeling of his skin being on fire yet feeling a cooling balm frozen over it. He’s barely conscious, only being held up by someone. The name escapes him, as does most thought as his mind retreats into an empty void, before he blissfully falls unconscious.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

‘What the fuck is that noise?’ Is Dabi’s first thought that penetrates the darkness of his mind, followed by the return of his senses recognizing the dull pain that seemed to radiate every inch of his body. It’s enough of a motivator to ever so slightly stir the villain into consciousness, eyes cracking open only to snap close because of how bright everything was.

“Hnn...” A groan of discomfort is given as Dabi shifts, finding his right arm strangely hard to move compared to his left. 

𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒

   Chief Tokage could already feel the storming migraine in his head. “Hello Hawks. Hope you had a nice fly…”  He grumbled, ignoring the blaring horns of all the cars that had been set off with the young Pro’s dramatic entrance moment ago outside the station. 

"Careful there," he laughed planting down in front of her, slipping his hands in his pockets as his seemingly sentient feathers righted her. "That could have been an ugly fall."

@mischievmagic

Well that was fucking embarrassing (even if it wasn't new). A pro hero saving her from eating asphalt when he could be stomping an actual villain that wasn't her clumsy ass--

And it's Hawks out of all heroes to come around.

"Aha-- it's fine, wouldn't have done much for this clown." Cause she sure as shit was a circus act. Not that he needed to stick around and find out. God, he really doesn't - this was enough, right? Besides, her face already had a healing cut lip and bandage slapped on her cheek from earlier in the week. Different incident, don't ask. The main takeaway here is her mug could take more damage but it wouldn't change anything by much, okay.

At least his feathers were a nice distraction from the whole situation. Little weird, sure, but really pretty up close. Her pale eyes may be giving away the wonder that lived inside her as she watched them help her upright. "Wow~ thanks a lot, feather man."

Feather. Man.

Marie paled a little bit.

   This didn’t usually happen. 

   Well, ‘course it didn’t -- or she wouldn’t be in this business. 

   Usually, assailants were easy enough to take out, and any scratches she did get were gone the following day or the day after. But not today. Today, the bullets that flew towards her pierced and clung, and when she collapsed to the ground, she couldn’t easily pull herself back up. 

   Well... fuck.  

   She was out in the middle of nowhere, and she’d left Miri behind in fear she’d get caught up in the firefight. All she had was Bjorn, her hammer, and some holes that wouldn’t stop bleeding. 

   But there were positives, too. Her targets were down, and Bjorn appeared to be uninjured, even if he was whimpering like a pup desperate for his mama. 

   She shushed him, brushed the top of his head with bloody fingers, hummed as if to say, It’ll be okay. It would, after all. She wasn’t planning on dying, but even if she did, there were fates worse than death. 

   Like living without your children. 

   Like living alone. 

   In any case, Neoma’d thought she’d seen smoke peeking above the roof of a tree, and headed vaguely in that direction. Smoke meant people, here, especially in the cold. It never meant a volcano. 

   She’d not gotten more than a hundred feet before she collapsed again and this time, when she willed her body up, it didn’t go.  

   Bjorn was whimpering, desperate -- nipped at her hands, licked at her face, and then darted off, kicking up snowfall as he did. “Abandoning me in my time of need,” she called after him. “How cruel.” 

   She knew him well enough to know that was likely not the case, but... where was he going? If he got a stick to attempt to cajole her into playing with him with, she swears to her ancestors--

   Laying on her back, surrounded by ice, she considered that she really may die. How many times had she been shot? Four? Five? There was a trail of blood polluting the white, leading to where she’d fallen, and the snow tracks clearly told her she’d been dragging her feet. 

   Huh. Dying, like this. Alone, and cold, and staring at the sky. 

   She thought it’d be like this. Maybe not this sky, though. 

   This sky had a sun, beating down on her, that she couldn’t feel. It was white from the reflection of the snow. She rose a hand up to the sky, stared at her shadows against the world... 

   And heard the crunching of ice beside her. 

   Slowly, she turned her head. 

   It was all Bjorn she saw, first. His big paws, his gangly legs, his fur matted with water and dirt and blood. Ugh, he needed a bath. That thought got louder when he collapsed on her chest, curled close under her chin as though her were desperate for her warmth. 

   She groaned through her teeth, blinked through his fur. Boots were clambering up to her. 

   Hah. Well look at that. He made a friend.

Right now, though, he feels like he’s sixteen-years old all over again.

He can feel it - nervousness and fear, running from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. It doesn’t show on his face, which is stonier than ever, but he’s quite sure that if he were to look down for even a moment, he’d notice his hands shaking ever-so-slightly.

It’s always like this. Whenever he talks to Shirakumo- to Kurogiri, he’s a kid again, unsure of himself and of everything around him. Today, though, what he’s here to talk about is... different from what he normally does. Kurogiri’s never answered him before.

But maybe he will now.

“You called yourself the protector of Shigaraki Tomura, before. ...What do you see in him? No matter how hard I think about it, I still don’t get it.”