Forty-Third Theory [Mostly Action]

[i_speak_softly]

((General post for the next two weeks or so. Preemptive tl;dr, find him anywhere, though suggestion of day/place/activity is appreciated.))

[As May begins, and as a fairly large percentage of May goes by, Donatello can be found doing the following things:

-Jogging through the woods, tracking down any signs of life detected by the departed Mr. Scott's not-really-new-and-not-exactly-improved-either tricorder. ((New Feathers, feel free to jump in here.))

-Hauling huge loads of books to and from the library.

-Studying these books - in and around House 55, at the library itself, by the fountain, at the coffee shop, alongside the river... pretty much anywhere.

-Copying diagrams from the books into his journal.

-Working at the smithy, trying to create physical equivalents of these diagrams.

-Digging through bins at the item shop.

-Practicing wind magic or good old-fashioned ninjutsu in various open areas around the edges of the village.

And a few more specific actions:]


[Don needs a few minutes of your time. If you don't dare to approach him while he's working, he'll come looking for you.]



[Some rainy evening, Don will show up at Robert's door with a duffel bag and a goofy grin. You owe him a nanocomputer demonstration - and he brought you a gift.]



Frederic, a question, if you have a minute...

Comments

[i_speak_softly]

[He rubs the ridge between his eyes.] Yes, I know he's not very good with people.

[the-mikester.livejournal.com]

I know you know. You told us already. [So what's the deal here?] You said you wanted me to tell you stuff about Robbie you didn't know. So I did.

[i_speak_softly]

Never mind. [He turns his gaze to his stack of books. It suddenly looks like so much work.] Do you want to go home?

[the-mikester.livejournal.com]

Sure! What were you doing all the way out here, anyway?

[i_speak_softly]

Looking for a new angle.

[the-mikester.livejournal.com]

On what?

[i_speak_softly]

[Don smiles over his shoulder, hefts his bag, and jumps off the building.]

[Follow, little brother.]

[the-mikester.livejournal.com]

[Might as well.

He jumps down after you.]

[i_speak_softly]

[Don takes off towards home at a fairly fast pace.]

I find it helpful to study in different places.

[the-mikester.livejournal.com]

Like the roof of a random house?

[i_speak_softly]

That would be one example.

[the-mikester.livejournal.com]

What did you need a new angle on this time? [I.e., what were all those words for?]

[i_speak_softly]

Not killing Robert. [Context, who needs it.]

[the-mikester.livejournal.com]

Huh? [That sounded pretty disturbing, bro. Sometimes a little context can go a long way.]

[i_speak_softly]

Did you know that humans have to learn how to swim?

[the-mikester.livejournal.com]

You're not gonna drown him, are you? Are you guys having problems? 'Cause... uh... [Mike doesn't take the question at face value, because, DUH.]

[i_speak_softly]

[Mike, do you really think your brother is the premeditated murder type?]

No! I'm trying to figure out how to get him a hundred feet underwater without drowning him!

=keywords

[the-mikester.livejournal.com]

[Everyone knows it's always the quiet ones...]

How're you gonna do that?

also keywords

[i_speak_softly]

[Didn't you look at the books?]

Have you ever heard of diving bells?

twins!

[the-mikester.livejournal.com]

[His eyes may have passed over them, yes.]

Uh... is that where the guy goes down in a suit with a tube attached to his head?

[i_speak_softly]

No, that's a helmet. A diving bell is -- [He makes a vague gesture without breaking his stride.] You park your air supply and use it as a dive base.

[the-mikester.livejournal.com]

[i_speak_softly]

Never mind. The point is, it works, and more importantly it will work in Luceti.

It's just a little dangerous...

[the-mikester.livejournal.com]

[That last thing is so you it makes him laugh.] Do you think Robbie is ready for your crazy inventions?

[i_speak_softly]

[Thanks for the vote of confidence, bro.]

He already said he would try the hang-gliders.