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]

[i_speak_softly]

Well, yes, she's an angel. How do you talk to someone like that?

[Action]

[justicereigns]

[A small chuckle.] You just do.

[Action]

[i_speak_softly]

[A soft answering laugh.] I didn't.

[Action]

[justicereigns]

[Shrugs.] I don't know, in general you don't have to overthink it? She's pretty easy going and she doesn't know a lot about humans, but it works out.

[Action]

[i_speak_softly]

We have something in common, then.

[Action]

[justicereigns]

See? There you go.

[Action]

[i_speak_softly]

Maybe I'll see her again sometime. [Wait a minute -] Smoker, did you come here on purpose?

[Action]

[justicereigns]

Just checking up.

[Action]

[i_speak_softly]

We're okay here. But - thanks.

[Action]

[justicereigns]

Glad to hear it Don. If you need anything, let me know.