i_speak_softly (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
i_speak_softly) wrote2012-10-11 06:06 am
i_speak_softly) wrote2012-10-11 06:06 am
Sixty-Third Theory [Voice/Action]
[Voice - October 10]
[This is too important for his usual mangled speech, so Don communicates what he wants to say to Robert, and makes the man repeat it over and over until Don can echo it correctly into the journals:]
Leonardo has gone home.
[Action - October 11]
[The next day, Don turns his mind to practical matters. House 55, which at times has had as many as six residents, is now down to two. At this point it's just silly to keep using the space in the same way. So, on this rainy afternoon, Don heads to the library to pore over diagrams of the floorplan that he has accumulated, and to think about how much has changed since he first moved there with Raph, Casey, and Derek.]
[How long ago that seems: a human inviting him to live in their house. Not just as a temporary refuge, but permanently. And somehow, it had worked. Meals were shared, holidays were celebrated, and aside from the regular trials attendant upon living in Luceti, times were good. Human housemates came and went, and his entire family arrived. That hadn't gone as well as Don might have hoped, but he doesn't regret having had them all together once more. And then the slow attrition, until now --]
[He has never been the only Turtle before. Yes, he had been separated from his brothers, both here and at home, but there had always been at least one of them out there somewhere. Now he is the last of his kind of this world, with no way of getting back where he belongs. There's an emptiness in his spirit, a sense of being lost.]
[And somewhere under the wrongness, a seed of fear: Since his death loss, Leo was the only one who could understand him effortlessly. Don had really relied on that easy communication, and Leo's help in translating his thoughts to others. Even if he has served most of the time until he can get the loss restored - he really hopes his math is right - the remainder of it is going to be draining. He can't lose another person he cares about, but how can he keep a relationship together when every conversation is a battle?]
[And what about the impending cold weather, which he can already feel creeping up on Luceti? His ability to speak will be returned just as his opportunities to go out and talk to people are diminished sharply. He foresees himself spending a lot of time with the journal...]
[The winter room is too much for just one Turtle, but since the major construction is already complete, Don just makes some minor tweaks to his plans for stocking it. He dawdles over his blueprints for much longer than is strictly necessary, until late in the afternoon he looks wistfully at all the books he can't read - just a few more weeks - and heads home.]
[Action - October 14]
[Donatello is not okay. His coping methods have collapsed, and he can't deal with this. In a haze of grief and loneliness, he goes to the Battle Dome, picks a program he hasn't seen before, and sets it on a stupidly difficult level. Then he battles artificial enemies until the simulation aborts. In the empty chamber, he screams wordlessly at the walls, not caring who can hear him. When the rage is spent, leaving only the pain, he limps home, bleeding from everywhere. He is not in a mood to accept help.]
[This is too important for his usual mangled speech, so Don communicates what he wants to say to Robert, and makes the man repeat it over and over until Don can echo it correctly into the journals:]
Leonardo has gone home.
[Action - October 11]
[The next day, Don turns his mind to practical matters. House 55, which at times has had as many as six residents, is now down to two. At this point it's just silly to keep using the space in the same way. So, on this rainy afternoon, Don heads to the library to pore over diagrams of the floorplan that he has accumulated, and to think about how much has changed since he first moved there with Raph, Casey, and Derek.]
[How long ago that seems: a human inviting him to live in their house. Not just as a temporary refuge, but permanently. And somehow, it had worked. Meals were shared, holidays were celebrated, and aside from the regular trials attendant upon living in Luceti, times were good. Human housemates came and went, and his entire family arrived. That hadn't gone as well as Don might have hoped, but he doesn't regret having had them all together once more. And then the slow attrition, until now --]
[He has never been the only Turtle before. Yes, he had been separated from his brothers, both here and at home, but there had always been at least one of them out there somewhere. Now he is the last of his kind of this world, with no way of getting back where he belongs. There's an emptiness in his spirit, a sense of being lost.]
[And somewhere under the wrongness, a seed of fear: Since his death loss, Leo was the only one who could understand him effortlessly. Don had really relied on that easy communication, and Leo's help in translating his thoughts to others. Even if he has served most of the time until he can get the loss restored - he really hopes his math is right - the remainder of it is going to be draining. He can't lose another person he cares about, but how can he keep a relationship together when every conversation is a battle?]
[And what about the impending cold weather, which he can already feel creeping up on Luceti? His ability to speak will be returned just as his opportunities to go out and talk to people are diminished sharply. He foresees himself spending a lot of time with the journal...]
[The winter room is too much for just one Turtle, but since the major construction is already complete, Don just makes some minor tweaks to his plans for stocking it. He dawdles over his blueprints for much longer than is strictly necessary, until late in the afternoon he looks wistfully at all the books he can't read - just a few more weeks - and heads home.]
[Action - October 14]
[Donatello is not okay. His coping methods have collapsed, and he can't deal with this. In a haze of grief and loneliness, he goes to the Battle Dome, picks a program he hasn't seen before, and sets it on a stupidly difficult level. Then he battles artificial enemies until the simulation aborts. In the empty chamber, he screams wordlessly at the walls, not caring who can hear him. When the rage is spent, leaving only the pain, he limps home, bleeding from everywhere. He is not in a mood to accept help.]
[ action ]
then...slowly...she turns back around. ]
Jeez! Donnie! [ she drops back to his side, frowning. ]
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[ she stumbles to a halt -- hurt by his hostility but not yet dismayed. ] Don. You're looking a little worse for wear.
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[Limping onward...]
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but she does call after him -- feet screwed tight to the ground. ] Be careful. Don't forget the bandaids.
You know where to find me if you feel like...talking. [ err. ] Or not-talking.
[ and then she let him go. ]
[Voice]
[Voice]
[Voice]
Th-thank you for... for your condolences, Doctor Mizuno.
I... apologize, but D-Don is... not particularly in... in a-any mood to speak. [Not even to him, if his tone is any indication of that.]
[Voice]
I'm sorry to have intruded.
[Voice]
It was... h-hardly an intrusion... c-completely understandable...
... [Very softly:] At the l-least, I... appreciate having someone else to... s-speak to. [Silence in the house is worse than anything.]
[Voice]
[Voice]
... [There are a lot of things he could say, really. The main problem will be making them coherent. But he wants to do something right now, other than cry.]
[Voice]
Would you like to meet?
[Voice]
But maybe Don wants to be alone? He wishes there was a way to tell that didn't involve asking him.]
... I... [Quietly, with the drifting uncertainty and helplessness of somebody uprooted from everything:] ... I am... n-not certain...
[Voice]
It's alright. You should do what you think is best to support him.
[Voice] | wow I apologize for the epic delay; for some reason I didn't track this
[He doesn't want to let Don out of his sight, not yet. It's too fresh.]
[Voice] no worries <3
I'll definitely stay here.
[Voice] ;w; thank you~
[There's a brief silence then, as he collects himself; an audible hitching breath.]
... Doctor Mizuno... wh-what am I to do if... if he refuses to allow me to... h-help him...?
[Voice] always <3
[Action | October 14 | later in the evening because fff]
Under the care of Law, Ami and Litchi, he has learned doctoring. The scent of blood alone would not be enough to bother him, not in either the constrained and clinical setting of a hospital or the heat of a battlefield. But within his own home, making the air redolent with the thick scent - his lover's blood, self-inflicted from whatever terrifying ritual he had taken in the Battle Dome...
Robert doesn't know what he did, though he has some ideas. None of them are short of gut-wrenchingly horrific, but he didn't stop Don and he won't stop him now. Maybe he should be guilty about that, letting Don walk out and do this to himself, letting him come home bleeding and not confronting him...
Maybe it's the same way Don felt when he saw the bottles piled high in the bin. Maybe Don will feel the same way when he sees Robert doing it again now.
But there are more important things to worry about right now than guilt. Though Robert has spent much of the day away from Don (even when he came home, I hid from him because what could I even say -), it's evening and he no longer hears the sounds of Don stirring in his room.
He knows Don took the bandages and sterilization agent he'd left in the bathroom. There are obvious signs of use there, signs that he saw when he went and scrubbed the bathroom of the smell of Turtle blood until his nose burned and his fingers were raw under the gloves. So he doesn't think Don has bled to death in his room.
But whatever these injuries are, he can't ignore them. He can't let him do anything more to himself, not anymore.
He approaches Don's door like it might attack him, and knocks at the door. Will you let him in, Don?]
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He purges his voice of the trembling as much as he can, and takes on the soft-but-serious tone of a caregiver.]
Don, I need to ascertain the... extent of your injuries. Please at least allow me to... l-look at them...
[Please don't completely shut me out. Not now.]
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[When Robert enters, he will find the room is dark: the lights are off and the curtains half-closed, letting in only a sliver of twilight. Don is curled on the bed, the blankets polka-dotted with drying blood, staring glassily at the ceiling and giving no indication that he moved a moment ago. The first aid supplies are sitting, unused, on the nightstand.]
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... No. Not the time to be afraid. He remembers what he has been taught and holds it in his mind like a lifeline.
He doesn't say anything yet, just steps towards Don; a specter in the murky shadows. There isn't enough light to see, but it somehow feels wrong to do anything to intrude on this darkness yet.
When he speaks, it's so quiet he's surprised he can even hear himself.]
Don...
[He needs your help, right now. Prioritize. Be rational. It all seems so difficult staring at what's happened to the Turtle in front of him.]
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The first thing to do is get some light in here. He flicks on the light switch, suddenly having to squint against the brightness - he knows he's pushing himself into this situation, possibly even against Don's will, but he needs to know what happened.
... There are so many slashes. At first, Robert's heart leaps into his throat, but he quickly calms when he realizes most of them are shallow; not deep enough to slice much more than Don's tough scales. It's still alarming and disturbing, but nothing that can't be dealt with; nothing that has put his life in danger.
There is also a bruise, dark and ugly, crawling down Don's leg. That will need to be dealt with too.
The most alarming thing is Don's arm. Robert can't be sure what's wrong with it, but he's holding it at an odd angle. Possible break? At the least he shouldn't disturb it.
Working silently and quickly, Robert takes one of the bandages and fashions it into a quick sling; it's not the cleanest or most effective, but it'll help to immobilize his arm and prevent further damage while he works on cleaning the injuries. When he goes to tie it in place, he uses the lightest, most unobtrusive touches possible, and he finds himself speaking softly again to Don, even if he's not getting responses.]
I am making certain I do not... injure you further. It is difficult to... know the nature of this arm's... i-injury without closer investigation...
... Right now, I just... I w-want you safe... [He can't help the ache that crawls into his voice, but he tries to keep it steady. He doesn't want to cry right now.]
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... A-Alright. I apologize; I will simply use caution in cleaning you. But... p-please try not to move that arm too much, for now...
[He knows it's a basically useless thing to say. Don wasn't exactly doing much moving before.
Robert abandons the sling on the side table and instead turns to the cleaning solution. Taking a sterile cloth pad, he soaks it in the solution and very carefully goes to wash one of the worst cuts, waiting for any kind of indication from Don as to whether it stings or whether he should be more gentle... or anything. All the while he is trying to be as soothing as possible.]
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Every once in awhile, he swaps cloth pads; meticulously bundling them in the wrappers of the last one. Eventually there is a pile of spent cloth pads in the wastebin, and Don's cuts have been cleansed of the worst of the dried blood.
Robert's still not sure whether Don is injured on his other side; he can't really lift the Turtle to tell, and something tells him that he shouldn't be trying to grab and lift Don in this state anyway. Besides, this is probably the worst of the injuries... hopefully.
Breathing in the sterile scent of the cleanser to counteract the rusty tang of blood on his hands, Robert once more looks at Don's injuries.]
What am I to do with this arm...
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... Don, will you... a-allow me to... use Nala's m-magic on your arm...?
[It's an injury that normally could take weeks to heal. In Don's state, that's likely to make things even worse.
Such an injury will be magically intensive to correct, and Robert's not exactly running on a full head of steam. But he's willing to try anyway.]
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Don won't even allow Robert to help him. He is literally helpless in the face of this.
Why, Don? Why do you want to be in pain? Why won't you let Robert help you?]
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Robert pulls himself together - with nary a sob or anything; those are for later - enough to gather the refuse of his cleaning job, bundling it together in the trash bag, and taking it in his hands to carry out of the room.
He turns once before he leaves the room, giving the little bundle on the bed a look laced with pain and loss.
I love you. I'm sorry.
And then he steps out the door.]
[Voice]
He doesn't have much choice, but he feels better knowing that he's done something.]
Don. I... I know you can't really... talk back... but I... i-if you need to, uh... I... I-I can... I-I'll be...
[He stops because the words are lost on him at the moment. He's too busy trying to resist similar feelings he felt back in August. Those feelings that all is lost here.]
[Voice]
[Action] SORRY THIS IS SO LATE! Hope you don't mind! I thought I had tagged earlier
Xzana lands where the creature had been a scant moment before, missing it by only seconds. She growls grumpily up at Don.] You cost me some meat Kappa. Your stalking is that of a child. [And that's being generous.]
[Action]
Re: [Action]
Where you not hunting then? You are too thin. Do you really trust your humans to bring you food all winter long?
[Like the water spirits and those with affinity towards water in her world the Kappas hibernated. Xzana doesn't even stop to consider that Don could be different than the Kappa of her world.
If Don is any mood to notice, Xzana herself has put on a fair amount of weight since the last time they had talked.]
[Action]
[He notices the signs of pre-torpor in Xzana, though, and it makes him more determined to not make an enemy of her. He would really like to have someone to share his winter room with...]
[It takes more self-control than he thought he had left not to respond with some broken but still-scathing remark.]
[Action]
I do not know how many seasons you have spent with these humans, but take my word Kappa. You'll want to put more weight on before the first true cold comes. Even if you trust your humans, winter tends to have poor hunting. You may need to go hungry a few days, despite their best intentions.
[Although, her human that took her in once didn't have a nice grocery store that was always full of free food. Not to mention, he was trying to feed a hungry and hurt dragon. Even if she is only a half breed.
With her warning given to what she thinks is a slightly slow Kappa, Xzana stretches out her wings. Preparing to take off in the sky, even if it is still awkward to try to fly with the extra set of Luceti wings getting in the way.]
[Action]