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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[It's not like they're much more naked than they usually are. There's nothing to see.]

[Don passes Raph a washcloth, then tips to one side to show him the edge of his shell by his hip. It's pretty scratched up.]

Look at this.

What's that from?

[He runs his fingers over the marks and tries to remember, then finds a peeling edge of scute and starts picking it off.]

My guess? April walking into the furniture.

[He snorts at that and keeps peeling at the scute. Looks like the whole thing's coming off.]

You keep growin' like this and ya might finally grow into those flippers you call feet.

[Once it's free, he balances it on the tub edge - a green, dinner plate sized sheet of pure keratin. Then, he runs the washcloth over the portion of new shell, and carefully scrubs at the scuffs made by April's supposed furniture accident.

The ritual is far more comforting than any work out session. It reminds him of home and the warm familiarity of family. After all that trouble and searching, Raph feels more like himself than he has in months.]

Ha, ha. Those flippers can outswim you any day and you know it.

[He steals back the washcloth, and gently pokes at the still-slightly-soft new scute.]

Are you going to display that somewhere?

Yeah, was thinkin' we can mount it on the wall next to April's freak-o clown face.

You really don't have any shame, do you.

[He shoves Don's shoulder.] I was kidding, dumbass.

That's not even funny. [He spins the pale green scute on the edge of the bathtub.] But seriously, how are we going to get rid of this?

Chuck it in the garbage for all I care. It's your scute, do what you want with it.

[Usually Splinter would keep them but...that's kind of weird.]

[It is weird, especially considering that they make an infinite supply of them.]

Fine, I will. [He pushes Raph's leg out of the way so he can turn around.] How does the back look?

[Insert witty "pack rat" pun here.

He traces his fingers over Don's relatively pristine and scar-free shell. His own shell is an absolute wreck in comparison.]

Looks fine to me.

[He passes the washcloth over his shoulder.] How's yours? I can't even imagine what this experiment has done to it.

What!?

[And now he's frantically peering over his shoulder to try and spot any major deformities without much luck. The bit of awkward flailing is enough to make some water slosh over the side of the tub.]

[This catches Don by surprise. Surely Raph couldn't have forgotten.]

Raph, the bear-trap...

Yeah, but you took the plaster out. Should be all healed up.

[He manages to turn himself around enough for Don to look at it.]

All that swappin' bodies wouldn't do nothin' to it, right?

I wasn't sure if it had healed all the way through yet... It looks okay. I have no idea where your body was for the last two weeks, but - it looks okay. [- he repeats lamely.]

[He grunts at that.]

Ah, it's a mess. It don't bother me. 'Long as it ain't fallin' off or nothing.

Edited 2010-12-12 22:45 (UTC)

It certainly isn't falling off. [He runs the washcloth over Raph's carapace, then around the base of his crippled wing.] This hasn't been bothering you at all, has it?

Not unless I lie on my shell too long.

[He sighs and lets himself relax.]

Got an idea why it still looks like that?

I wonder... [He falls silent for a while, stretching out Raph's wing and gently cleaning the ragged feathers. Then, almost abruptly, he touches the barcode on the back of Raph's neck.] - if it's related to this.

What, the barcode? [He thinks a moment.] Wonder if anybody's tried scrapin' theirs off.

Mm. [He moves on to Raph's other wing.] I would hope not.

Yeah, but think about it. I heard somebody say that's how those kidnappin' robots find you. Get rid of that, you got nothin' to worry about.

[His hands still as he thinks about this.] In theory. But scraping wouldn't be the way to go about it.

Thirty-Third Theory [Action/Written]

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[Action] /steals from your headcanon

[Action] Nice try, but wrong

[Action] Wrong!?

[Action] Leo's got the flippers; Don has girly feet

[Action] You're a liar /goes to find where I saw you write that

[Action] It's my headcanon I know what I wrote

[Action] AHHH YOU'RE RIGHT. I was thinking of Paul Harmon's anatomy sketches and mixed them up /sob

[Action] I'll take that as a compliment

[Action] Do eet. I take all my anatomy "headcanon" from him XD

[Action] And now back to the RPing

[Action] NEVAH!!!1 .......................... Okay, fine. 8|

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