Thirtieth Theory [Action]

[i_speak_softly]

My sons... MY SONS!

[Donatello stands outside House 55, his shell resting against the wall, staring into the fog.]

Someone help me!

[It's not real.]

NOOOOOOOO!

[That's what everyone has been saying on the journals. So Don doesn't fall into the trap, doesn't go into the mist. (Through the red lens over his eye, it looks like a spray of arterial blood. When he loses focus, he starts to see the red cloud with both eyes. Then he blinks and it's gone again.) But he doesn't go inside either. He can't walk away from his father's voice. Not even when the words give way to pained cries, not even when cold fear grips him as he realizes he doesn't know who needs help.]

[No one. It's not real.]

[Still, he can't bring himself to move.]

((Not marked as Voice because he isn't saying anything, but if you call him over the journals he'll answer. Stay inside tonight, Luceti...))

Comments

[ action ]

[refinedmaestro.livejournal.com]

[Frederic had gotten out of his apartment, yet he was still trembling and trying to shake off the hallucination he had before taking his walk. In the fog, he kept the voices of his sisters and friends, but he knew none of them were here or were they? He'd heard people over the journals saying they weren't real or only figments of the mind, but they sounded so real. Eventually he reaches Donatello's house and sees him standing outside.]

Donatello?

[ action ]

[i_speak_softly]

[Don stares at the indistinct figure for a long moment before deciding that yes, this is a real person. He can't quite tell who it is, though.]

Who's there?

[ action ]

[refinedmaestro.livejournal.com]

[Frederic gets closer to the house and out of the fog, a small smile appears on his face when he does see his friend in in fact real.]

It's me, Frederic. Are you all right?

[ action ]

[i_speak_softly]

Frederic. [He moves aside a little, inviting the composer into the relatively fog-less pocket against the side of the house.]

[He nods to the night.] What do you hear out there?

[ action ]

[refinedmaestro.livejournal.com]

[Sitting beside his friend, he sighs a little and looks out into the night with him.]

My sisters and friends, sometimes my parents. But I know they can't be here, but my heart wants to believe they are.

[ action ]

[i_speak_softly]

I know how you feel. [He turns his head, taking in Frederic's costume.] Nice.

[ action ]

[refinedmaestro.livejournal.com]

[He sighs more and looks a little annoyed.] I look like Dracula if he were in the 18th century. This costume is ridiculous and I don't like it one bit.

[ action ]

[i_speak_softly]

I don't think this can last much longer.

[ action ]

[refinedmaestro.livejournal.com]

[Frederic hopes it doesn't, looking like this (http://xbox360media.ign.com/xbox360/image/article/821/821012/soulcalibur-iv-20070919063251568.jpg) for another week is ridiculous.] Donatello, could we stay in company for quite some time? I would feel much better knowing you are near.

[Action]

[justicereigns]

[Winnie the Pooh-Smoker looks worried.]

Don? You all right??

[Action]

[i_speak_softly]

[The voice is familiar, but he can't tell who's inside the ridiculous bear costume.]

Yes, um...?

[Action]

[justicereigns]

[Oh god he doesn't want to openly admit he's the one stuck in a giant teddy bear costume! So, sorry Don, he's ignoring that now.]

What happened?

I thought no one wanted to go out in the fog.

[Action]

[i_speak_softly]

[Suit yourself, mystery person. Don's replies will be more guarded than usual.]

I'm not out in the fog. I'm still touching the house. [He raps his gauntleted knuckles against the wall, just to prove his point.]

[Action]

[justicereigns]

Does that count?

... It's Smoker by the way. [See the smoke? It's a little harder to tell in the fog, but being stuck in a giant children's cartoon bear suit isn't going to stop him from smoking. Nothing will stop him. In any case, he doesn't want to make Donatello even more guarded.]

[Action]

[i_speak_softly]

[He thought the fog was moving a little oddly in your vicinity.

He relaxes a little, now that he knows who you are. And he's not in the mood to make fun.]

Mike would say so.

[Action]

[justicereigns]

[A soft grunt.]

Shit like this happen to you guys that often?

[Action]

[i_speak_softly]

Often enough. [He reconsiders the pat answer.] More than often enough.

[after-march.livejournal.com]

[There's a bedraggled looking clown lady coming from the direction of the village. April is back from her misadventures with Vash (http://community.livejournal.com/lucetilogs/179220.html?thread=14130964#t14134292) in the forest, and now all she wants is a shower and a blanket to hide under. She notices Don outside with a mixture of gladness and worry.]

Hey.

[i_speak_softly]

[Don studies April for a moment, and decides she's not an illusion.]

April. What were you doing out there?

[after-march.livejournal.com]

[She leans against the porch railing for a moment, pulling off one giant floppy shoe and emptying some sand and rocks out of it.] Oh. You know. The usual. What are you up to?

[i_speak_softly]

[Don raises a brow. April's definition of 'usual' sure has changed since she met them.]

[He tilts his head toward the fog-shrouded path.] Listening.

[after-march.livejournal.com]

Hear anything worth hearing? [She can pretty much guess the answer to that.]

[i_speak_softly]

[One word should be all the answer April needs.]

Splinter.

[after-march.livejournal.com]

Ah. Is he...okay? [It's an awkward question: what she means to ask is whether or not it's Splinter screaming in agony or Splinter being calm and reassuring.]

[i_speak_softly]

... No.