i_speak_softly | Fifty-First Theory [Written/Voice/Action]

Entry tags:

Fifty-First Theory [Written/Voice/Action]

[This morning, instead of going for his usual run, Don settles himself at his desk in the back room. The door is open and a pencil is poked thoughtfully between his teeth. When he begins to write, it isn't filtered, but courtesy of a translation-shield, anyone trying to read the entry will see something that looks more like a Danish cryptogram than anything intelligible. It's a code Don uses for his private notes: only his brothers or an extraordinarily gifted linguist would have a hope of being able to figure it out.]

BGTVULWG - Wvlz hltwqszu bluul kgf bj svg hblfl. Bj ilkqtblf bqs q lu zu lb pvwblu WJDLUQ, gs bj zpflh bqzzal tgulf bqs zlwh, lkulf vu bj nvhbl iglu nl f q lu vg gs lt vwh.

[A little later in the morning, Don leaves the following message.]

Filtered to everyone he can think of that he would consider a friend || Unhackable

All my friends here in Luceti... would you say a few words about yourself? For my notes.

[Much later, in the evening, Don goes out for his run. Now that Shredder is gone, he's allowed to go out after dark again. He knows he doesn't have long before the nights get too cold for this, so he's going to enjoy it while he can.]

((OOC: On Ami's suggestion, Don is working on the in-game equivalent of a timeline and a CR chart.))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

[Oh, but you probably came here for some other reason than to ask what he was doing.]

Did you need something?

Ah - I was... simply curious about what you were doing. That question has essentially been answered.

... Though... that is a fascinating cryptogram - may I ask how exactly you produce it...? [Obviously Robert wouldn't know it's a secret language.]

A what? [That's a word puzzle, right?] You mean what I was writing?

Yes... the interesting code you were writing in. I saw it broadcasted over the journals...

[... That seems less dangerous now that the Shredder and Karai are gone, but...]

... I was curious to ask you about it.

Oh... Just something I use for my notes.

[Pay attention, Robert. Your Turtle is giving off signs of Hiding Something.]

[... Is it just him or is Don acting slightly... off? Hmm. Well. Robert doesn't want to get it wrong, but...]

... Is that all it is? [Though, after a moment:] ... You do not have to elaborate if you do not wish...

[Part of him wants Robert to know so badly. The other part...]

[The first part is winning.]

It... no. [He fidgets nervously.] It's a lot more than notes.

[The fidgeting, Robert actually recognizes as a nervous thing - probably because he does it all the time. So he gently leans into Don's side.

Encouragingly:] Notes about what, if... I may ask?

[Well, now he has no idea what to do with his hands.]

At home, notes about my family. Medical data. Things like that.

Significant information that... you would not want somebody to merely be able to read at will. [Robert's voice is soft; he is considering that statement and matching it up to what Don is doing now.]

... This... must be along the same lines, then.

[He nods.] No one else can read it. And - I'll know no one else wrote it.

[It's something even he isn't supposed to be able to read, and part of Robert twists a little at that. Open, blunt honesty is pretty much what he expects from everybody he loves - especially because it is so easy to hide things from him.]

So this is... for yourself...

... In the event that you, er, were to... forget, correct...? [There's a definite hitch in Robert's voice when he says "forget".]

[Nod again. He's used to making preparations he hopes he'll never have to use, but somehow this one is especially painful.]

[Softly, barely above a whisper:] I... understand it could happen, but... but I do not enjoy the prospect...

[He grasps at one of Don's hands and will hold it fiercely if the turtle allows.]

... Part of me will... always love you, though.

[Don just kind of stands there. He's torn between changing the subject and spilling one of his deepest secrets, and he doesn't know what to say.]

[Robert isn't going to judge. Don knows everything deep and dark there is to know about him, anyway, and what else could Don ever tell him that would drive him off? He means too much, now.

There is silence, poignant silence, as Robert just stands there himself, holding that hand like nothing else matters in the world.]

[Well. Robert has already accepted everything else Don has thrown at him. (Even, almost, the idea of sparring.) How badly can this go? The man might even find it fascinating - after all, studying non-humans is his life's work.]

[He clenches his fingers a little, and blurts out -] It's a language.

[Yeah, Robert is not weirded out at all. In fact he's both fascinated and somewhat enamoured of this person all over again. An entire language?]

That explains why it was so unorthodox a structure...

... Your genius never fails to astound me. [And he's being entirely frank when he says that.]

[Don gestures helplessly with his free hand.]

I didn't do it on purpose...

... How could one create a language accidentally? [Robert is unfamiliar with organic languages that spring up in absence of other influences...

... Not terms, though. He's used to those being fluid enough.]

We just... did it. When we were children.

[And this is one of those moments that Robert thinks he would understand better if he had actually had siblings.

It might explain the blank look on his face, at least to an extent.]

... Sort of... spontaneously generated?

Well, we didn't -- [There's a disconnect here, isn't there.] Robert, it's my first language.

[Yes, there is a major disconnect.

... Give him a second.]

... Aha. So... your subspecies' language, then. ... So to speak.

[... A language used by all of four, maybe five, people. Well.]

... Is it based off of Trachemys scripta elegans vocalizations? [The question isn't an inherently awkward one, but it is interesting, on some level, to see Robert acknowledge the species difference.

... even if only for a moment.]

[Don looks at the floor, turns away a little, and, after a moment, emits a series of soft chirps and squeaks. It might sound a little like a bird who was shortchanged when musical ability was handed out.]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]