From the start, Paul understands that he and Bakugou operate on two very different levels of combat. It isn't even a matter of raw power or finessed skill, but the nature of what they are capable of. Bakugou may be better understood as mobile artillery than a single combatant, Paul thinks - highly mobile artillery, he amends, as Bakugou wrests himself from where he was flung and throws himself back into the midst of chaos with those thunderous blasts.
They have no method or moment of communicating to each other that both of them are aligned in the conviction that the other won't be felled here, and it may be for the best that they can't, with how it might slow them down in insistence that the other be the priority. Unspoken, it aligns them better towards the same goal, although they fall into very different means of seeking to achieve it.
Bakugou flings himself at the Bugge like a meteor, and Paul flits between the currents of the other three parts of the battle - Bugge, Epsilon, and Bakugou - like a seed spiralling ahead of outstretched fingertips, untouchable and intent in the radiant near-now.
Speed is one of the most critical aspects of a battle like this. To strike the Bugge down as swiftly as they can reduces the risks for all of them, the skeins of possibility penned in safer waters, but Paul and Epsilon impose limits on the force Bakugou can bring to bear at close range. This is the problem Paul sets himself to solving as he weaves for time, herding and provoking in turns the smaller Beast as he can to stay out of reach of claw or flame or baleful gaze.
The sea medallion on his chest glows through his armor like a heart, like the lighthouse of his eyes, and in the precious minute Bakugou buys for them with his blood and breath, Paul sees exactly what he has to do.
His spear arcs over Bakugou's head trailing ephemeral black smoke, lightened by the possession of his Omen as it flies unerring into the Bugge's left eye. Paul does not watch its path, pivoting on his heel and sprinting to the hissing, furious Epsilon, fist curled around a far more valuable weapon as he throws himself into the embrace of the rearing Beast's outstretched arms.
Epsilon seizes Paul up in their grasp and snarls, the fingers of their face tenting as they recognize their tormentor. On its hindarms, it powers them both towards the closest hard surface, and it is Paul's turn to strike unyielding bark and break against it. Pain electrifies his left arm, but what he needs is in his right, and as the Beast parts its hands to reveal its rasping maw, Paul smiles serenely at it.
"Clear!" He calls out to Bakugou, and slaps the Moon Drop against Epsilon's convulsing heart.
cw: eye injury (non-graphic)
They have no method or moment of communicating to each other that both of them are aligned in the conviction that the other won't be felled here, and it may be for the best that they can't, with how it might slow them down in insistence that the other be the priority. Unspoken, it aligns them better towards the same goal, although they fall into very different means of seeking to achieve it.
Bakugou flings himself at the Bugge like a meteor, and Paul flits between the currents of the other three parts of the battle - Bugge, Epsilon, and Bakugou - like a seed spiralling ahead of outstretched fingertips, untouchable and intent in the radiant near-now.
Speed is one of the most critical aspects of a battle like this. To strike the Bugge down as swiftly as they can reduces the risks for all of them, the skeins of possibility penned in safer waters, but Paul and Epsilon impose limits on the force Bakugou can bring to bear at close range. This is the problem Paul sets himself to solving as he weaves for time, herding and provoking in turns the smaller Beast as he can to stay out of reach of claw or flame or baleful gaze.
The sea medallion on his chest glows through his armor like a heart, like the lighthouse of his eyes, and in the precious minute Bakugou buys for them with his blood and breath, Paul sees exactly what he has to do.
His spear arcs over Bakugou's head trailing ephemeral black smoke, lightened by the possession of his Omen as it flies unerring into the Bugge's left eye. Paul does not watch its path, pivoting on his heel and sprinting to the hissing, furious Epsilon, fist curled around a far more valuable weapon as he throws himself into the embrace of the rearing Beast's outstretched arms.
Epsilon seizes Paul up in their grasp and snarls, the fingers of their face tenting as they recognize their tormentor. On its hindarms, it powers them both towards the closest hard surface, and it is Paul's turn to strike unyielding bark and break against it. Pain electrifies his left arm, but what he needs is in his right, and as the Beast parts its hands to reveal its rasping maw, Paul smiles serenely at it.
"Clear!" He calls out to Bakugou, and slaps the Moon Drop against Epsilon's convulsing heart.