i_speak_softly | Forty-Fourth Theory [Voice]

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Forty-Fourth Theory [Voice]

Filtered to Friends and Love Interests of Hamatos || Not Up to His Usual Standard

Raph is back.

[It should be apparent from his voice and his merely-mediocre filter that he has been up all night. After his brief message, the recording continues for a few minutes, possibly transmitting the muted voices of other Hamatos in the background, before the feed cuts out.]

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[Don takes a quiet moment to focus, then traces his fingers around the edges of the bandage - he's already learned that aiming magic at the bandage itself does no good. Raph might feel a strange pulling sensation as his plastron knits fractionally.]

[With a small reserve of magic still held in his hands, Don pulls back.] Your eyes?

[The pulling feels more sore then helpful as the guts and sinew move inside him slightly with the healing plastron, making him feel raw and vaguely sick to his stomach. But he tilts his head back for Don without a single sound of protest.]

[Don smoothes his hand over Raph's brow, running his thumb up and down the ridge between his eyes. The swelling should go down a little.]

Better?

[The swelling won't get better until he gets some nutrients in his system, but Don's healing brings it down at least temporarily. He blinks a few times, his vision finally clearing to near-normal, at least for now.]

Yeah.

[His magic is depleted again, but he leaves his hand where it is, hoping that simple touch will be therepeutic too.]

How's your stomach?

[He just shrugs and looks at the needle in his arm again.]

When're you gonna take this thing out of me?

When you can eat and drink on your own. [Hence the question about your stomach.]

[He doesn't want to talk about his stomach, only glares at the needle as if sheer power of will could make it disappear.]

I'm sorry.

[After what the Malnosso did, the last thing Don wants is to inflict more needles on his brother. If he had a magic way of putting nutrients in Raph's body, he would do it.]

[He's already making plans to pull it out when Don's not around. Maybe he'll feel guilty enough not to put it back in.

He only grunts his displeasure.]

[After talking with Don (http://i-speak-softly.livejournal.com/13851.html?thread=2291739#t2320667), Isamu makes his way quickly to the turtle residence.

He hesitates outside the door, giving it a couple cautious knocks.]

[Don looks up at the knock.]

That must be Isamu.

[And he goes to answer the door.]

Aw, crud.

[It's the strongest two words he's said since he got home. Come on, bro. Haven't you heard of giving a guy a little privacy? He tries to sit up a little and not look like such a pathetic mess.]

Hey.

[Isamu nods a greeting to Don as he steps inside.]

So where's the idiot at?

[Don makes a vague gesture. A more specific gesture shouldn't be necessary, as the idiot is in plain view on the couch.]

Thanks for coming.

[Raph manages to lug himself into a mostly sitting position, propped up with pillows. He thinks he's done pretty good by himself, trying to look halfway normal. But if he could see himself in a mirror, that'd be almost laughable. Needless to say, the guy looks like crap - thin, bruised, and swollen. But that won't keep him from trying.

There's no blanket over him, just a massive sunlamp casting its warm yellow light over his bandaged plastron. When he speaks, the strain of reaching somewhat normal volume makes his voice sound like his throat's coated in sandpaper.]

Watch who you're callin' idiot, moron.

Edited 2011-05-18 21:39 (UTC)

I'd call you an idiot on your deathbed, idiot.

[He tries not to have too strong a reaction to Raph's appearance, but a concerned frown takes over his features nonetheless.]

Don't suppose there's anything my healing can do?

You're welcome to take a turn. [If Raph will let you, that is.] I'm all used up...

[Raph just frowns petulantly. He's starting to feel like a healing magic pinata at this rate. His kind of wounds are the kind that have to get worse before they get better - that raw, visceral soreness of internal damage he's never felt before thanks to the shell.

He wants to tell everybody to just leave him alone, but he doubts he has much say in the matter. All he can do is sigh.]

[Isamu bends down closer to check the damage, even though he knows Raph isn't going to like it. If there's a lot of internal damage he's not as good with that.]

...I probably shouldn't mess with it. I don't know turtle anatomy as well, and I won't be able to see what I'm trying to heal.

[Don hovers nearby, wanting to keep constant tabs on Raph's condition, but at the same time very much aware of how much his brother hates being treated like a patient.]

Do you know if there's any way to transfer magic from one person to another?

[And it is precisely this moment that an extremely-distressed-looking Robert comes out of Don's room and staggers into this one through a haze of tears. He's just dealt with this reply from Adell on Vivi's whereabouts, and all he can think about is the fact that his daughter is gone.

He's obviously trying to contain himself, but his voice is still breaking and his apparent distress should be obvious even to Isamu.]

D-Don... Don, M-Miss Aislinn... is gone...

S-She, she was sent home... [And then his voice breaks and he sobs softly into his shaking hands a moment. After a full-body shudder, during which he manages to stem the tide of pain enough to get himself under control, he mumbles:]

Sh-she... she left s-something for m-me... at House 44... m-may, may I... g-go retrieve it, please...?

[Even that is an immense effort to say, and the end of his sentence dissolves into a teary whimper. He doesn't look up at anybody.]

[Robert's disruption only makes Raph sulk harder against his nest of pillows, muttering more to himself than anyone in particular.]

Just what we need, more freakin' dramatics.

[Don turns to Robert immediately, his question to Isamu forgotten. Sent home. He knows what that feels like.]

[He glances around quickly. Raph is stable and in good hands. Vivi's disappearance is, right now, the more pressing emergency.]

[His bo is leaning against the wall - he grabs it and slides it into his belt.]

I'll go with you.

[Isamu's thoughts somewhat mirror Raph's, and he takes a seat next to the injured turtle.]

I'll stay with Raph, then.

[Even if there really wasn't much he could do. How did one transfer magic? All he can think of is an MP drain spell.]

Forty-Fourth Theory [Voice]

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[Action] | Jumping in here 8D

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