And I Carry a Bo Staff

[Happy Sunday, Luceti. Donatello hopes you're having a better morning than he is. That shouldn't be very difficult, given that right now he's wishing he were dead.

He tends to feel that way when he's having a migraine. And right now he's having just about the worst one he's ever had. He woke up this morning with thirty-two years worth of memories trying to cram themselves into his sixteen-year-old brain, and the laws of nature just don't really like that kind of thing. Thus, Donatello will be lying in a dark room, moaning quietly to himself, until the superabundance of memories sorts itself out and normal mental functioning is able to resume.

He'd really appreciate some silence right now. But the journal is open on his nightstand, you can probably hear his misery, and nothing but the goodness of your heart is stopping you from making his horrible day even worse.]

[A low groan is heard.]

Ugh...

[Donatello opens one eye, and discovers that the thing smashed up against his face is a book. Lifting his head a little, he sees it's a blank book.]

Huh? What was I... ?

[He turns a few pages, but it seems that all of them are blank.]

Great. No notes. Good job, Donatello.

[He sighs and closes the book. Its leather cover echoes his name. This strange occurrence prompts Don to look up, and only then does he realize he is in a place rather different from any place he has been in before. He stands up quickly, almost knocking over the chair he'd been sitting in, and looks around at the bookshelves, tables, armchairs, and other sundry things that he associates, in a never-actually-seen-them-in-person kind of way, with libraries.]

What the -

((Anyone in the Luceti library is free - likely, even - to notice the large bipedal turtle wearing enormous boxers and trying to look in every direction at once. Perhaps they might also locate his gear somewhere?))