i_speak_softly | Thirty-Third Theory [Action/Written]

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Thirty-Third Theory [Action/Written]

[Donatello woke up this morning so relieved to be back in his own body that all he could do was cry into his pillow for five minutes. By the end of this catharsis, part of him felt that he really should look in on his housemates to see what state they were in today, but another part just really didn't want to know how much misery he was still in for. These two parts debated for a while, and concluded that they would do the responsible thing, but only after they had had (a) coffee, and (b) some time away from the house.]

[That decided, Donatello hauled himself out of bed, bundled up, and headed to the coffee shop to spend a few hours staring into space and downing as much caffeine as he could stand.]

[Some time around his third cup, he opens his journal and begins to write.]

Usually I'm in favor of having as much information as possible, but sometimes it really is better not to know. Things will never be the same again.

If only I could forget.

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[Don pokes his bo disconsolately, rolling it back and forth a little.]

You're unusually resigned today.

Yeah. [He rubs at the back of his neck. Still sore.] Told ya I ain't feelin' myself. But what'm I supposed to say to that, huh? I don't mind bein' a turtle most days, believe it or not. It ain't our fault people're too stupid to see past the shell.

I don't - I don't even really care about people. It's just... April is different.

[He folds his arms, gaze level.] You got a thing for her, don'tcha.

[It's not a question, just an obvious statement.]

[Don firmly forbids his features to give away his true feelings on the subject.]

Are you going to make fun of me for it?

No, or I woulda started teasin' you for it a long time ago. You're pretty obvious, Don-boy.

[He does smirk a little, though. Still, it's more affectionate than taunting. If he was younger, yeah, chances are he would've teased the crap out of him. But after his whole thing with Winry, he knows how shitty that can feel.]

[Nothing further needs to be said about that, then.]

[Since he's already on the floor, he'll turn to some stretches. It's amazing how stiff a body can get in only two days.]

[And Raph just turns back to his punching bag. He's fine with not talking. Hopefully the endorphins will clear his head a little.]

[It takes some time for Don to clear his head of all these thoughts and feelings, but eventually he falls into the quiet rhythm of counting out his stretches. From that point, he assigns himself thirty more minutes, and spends it thinking of nothing other than the steady stream of numbers and the feel of his body as he puts it through its familiar paces.]

[When he reaches eighteen-one-hundred, his time is up. He straightens slowly and breathes out.]

Did you want to spar a little? Otherwise I think I'm done.

[Raph puts down his freeweights at the mention of sparring and stands, shrugging to loosen up his shoulders.]

Yeah, I could go for a couple rounds.

[He travels to the center of the room and takes a fighting stance.]

[Don leaves his bo in the corner before joining Raph in the middle of the floor.]

It might be a while before we do this again. [He matches Raph's stance and smiles.] Let's make it a good one.

[He grins a sideways, cocky grin. Soon as Don's ready, he gives the signal, focused on evading the translation magic.]

Hajime!

[It's followed by a jab toward the head just as quick and sharp as the command.]

[Don ducks under the punch, then pops back up to the left and returns with a strike to Raph's side.]

[He takes the strike with a slight twist of his body, the blow meeting hard carapace instead. As he moves, he brings down a shuto chop aimed above his brother's collar bone. It's a stunning blow, and if it hits, he'll move into a snap kick aimed straight for the middle of Don's plastron.]

[Don rolls with that twist, keeping the distance between them small, catching most of the chop on the rim of his shell. The kick, though, takes him right in the chest, almost lifting him off his feet.

He responds by dropping his weight, getting low to the floor and trying to execute a sweep-kick before Raph recovers his center.]

[The sweep knocks him to the ground, but in one deft roll, he's back on his feet again. He slides into a defensive stance, a predatory grin overtaking his expression, and motions for Don to come at him with everything he's got.]

[Okay then - upwards-leaping elbow jab to the throat it is!]

[Raph crosses his arms and deflects the blow with a grunt, taking a half-step backward to absorb the impact. Then he leaps up, using Don's plastron as a springboard, and rolls himself into a backflip.]

[A front-flip, in that case, launching himself into a flying kick.]

[That backflip left him a unexpectedly lightheaded, and it takes him a few moments to get his bearings. By the time his head clears, Don's kick connects with his plastron and he's knocked back flat on his butt. He stares up at Don, looking surprised.]

Damn.

[Don wins this round.]

[Don kneels down instantly, not taking any satisfaction in the win. Raph shouldn't have gone down that easily.]

Are you okay?

Jeez Don, rub it in. [He pulls himself to his feet.] I'm fine.

[He watches Raph worriedly before slowly getting up himself.]

Well, thanks for the match...

[Raph throws him look.]

I'm havin' an off day. Don't get used to it.

I'm not getting used to anything. That wasn't a fair win.

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