INBOX // ROUTE 666

[purplexing]

You're conversing with Donatello-

Juuuust not this exact second. Please rank your call by number of priority and I'll get back to you accordingly.

1 - A technical emergency

2 - General inquiry

3 - Miscellaneous

Comments

[propatriamori]

[Yes, it definitely speaks volumes, and Edward sighs softly, immediately followed by the soft sounds of him skittering down from wherever he's hidden himself away.]

Where are you?

[Whether they meant to or not, they've uncovered Emotions(tm), and that needs to be dealt with. Donnie once comforted Edward when he felt like he was breaking down; it's time to repay the favour.]

[purplexing]

[He hates it. It's a gnawing feeling that just seems to sink its teeth even more now that he's realized just how much he hates what's happening, and the fact that he can't do anything about it. He can't help himself, he can't help his friends, he can't even help his brother and this place is robbing him of what he's always prided himself in being able to offer.

The fear's always been there, what with the slow changes, but all too recently everything's proven capable of being turned on its head, that he can lose it all in an instant.

Something that sounds dangerously close to a sniffle precedes his cautious response.]

...behind the game stalls.

[It's dark and not nearly high enough for his liking but it's not quite boxed in that he won't get anxious, a little hideaway he and his brother have found.]

[propatriamori]

Ah, that's close to where I am. I'll be there in a few minutes. Can you tap your foot, please, to make yourself easier to find?

[Normally he wouldn't suggest that, but Edward doubts anyone else here is using vibrations to scout out sad turtles. His range is limited by the injured leg, and it would take him forever to find Donnie without some cues that are easier to pick up.]

[Whether Donnie taps or not, Edward tracks him down. When he shows up, he looks as rough as the poor kid likely feels, his shirt tattered and blood-stained, his face paler than normal and sporting dark circles under his eyes. The most noticeable difference is his right back spider leg, which cuts off abruptly below the knee joint. As such, Edward didn't walk over; he crawled over the walls and roofs, so he could bend forward and use his hands as additional support.]

[He doesn't say anything about his leg or his own appearance, though, crawling into the little nest and settling himself down beside Donnie.]

I have to say, this has certainly been my least favourite stop on this journey. I'd take the meat building again over this nonsense.

[purplexing]

[That means putting some effort into doing something, but it's little enough. Donnie's talons scrape against the ground a bit as he loosens himself from his curled position, tapping a sharp toe against the ground.

Nothing prepares him for Edward's state of appearance, even if he were to try anticipating the worst of what this place could do- not that he wants to. A tiny gasp escapes him as he takes in his friend's status, and he swallows at the sight of the missing portion of leg.

While Edward can't see Donnie, he might have been able to make out some of the differences, the lack of warmth from a living body, for one, and perhaps the extra gaping holes carved deep in his leathery shell might make for some alterations in vibrations.

That he doesn't move away when the other deposits himself beside him says much, although he does breathe out the faintest attempt of a laugh. Ah, the meat building. It seems like so long ago, and had by far ranked the top spot for places the turtle never wants to visit again. Until now.]

Same.

[propatriamori]

[Edward certainly notices how Donnie is cold like Leo, and the holes in his shell. If he didn't know better, he'd think he was sitting next to the other brother.]

It seems as though we're both a bit worse for the wear of it.

[He gestures towards Donnie's shell with one hand.]

I'm happy to wrap that, if you'd like it covered.

[purplexing]

[With a soft shell it's less jagged edges and more just...gouges. Particularly there's a matching set of furrows, already old and sunken in, like some huge creature had raked its claws into him. They'd match the old, faint scars he'd had before, suddenly impossibly opened.

Donnie shakes his head, face still half buried in his arms.]

What's the point?

[propatriamori]

[Oh no, this is bad, and for a moment, Edward is at a loss. He's seen Donnie upset before, but never despondent, never like he was ready to give up.]

Well... it would make me feel like I'm still capable of helping a friend.

[Is that emotionally manipulative? Yes, absolutely, but Edward knows despair well enough, and that sometimes the only thing that works is when you have to do something for someone else.]

[purplexing]

[Ironic, considering Donnie's used similar tactics with Leo. He's not entirely sure how bad his own shell is, but he hasn't felt anything scraping against his insides. He knows he feels a bit thinner.

But it's been so many changes in such a... Well, he can't even say whether it's been a short span of time or not. Everything blurs together. He doesn't know how long they've been here and that seems the worst part. He'd been ready to just stay stuck in a cage, prodded and poked. At least he still had something between himself and the shadows, but there was still the real uncertainty of not knowing if they'd ever haul him back off to the main tents and their horrible performance rings again.

Hiding is its own uncertainty. He's used to hiding, but it's different here, living with a fear that at any given moment, he might not know when he's swept away again, or might not know where his brothers or his friends have been gotten off to. He's already anxious with Leo being out of sight, but he knows they can't just hide forever, or they'll never get out of here.

His claws tighten around his arms as he pulls his knees in closer, like he could compact himself so small he could disappear.]

...if you want, then. Probably just fall off like the other one...whenever I change again.

[propatriamori]

[It can be a valid strategy! Edward wouldn't use it all the time, but he's not above pulling out the 'poor pathetic sad blind soldier' card when he has to.]

The fortunate thing about the silk is that I can apply it as many times as it's necessary.

[He doesn't move to start trying right away, though. He needs Donnie to uncoil first, and the turtle doesn't seem in any mood to do so.]

[Has Donnie taken on any of the swarm traits? Edward isn't sure, and it doesn't seem like a great time to ask. But he remembers how much it helped Raph when he showed him soothing, calming things through the hive mind, and he also remembers how enchanted Andrew had been when Edward showed him how the vibrations work. The question is, which would work best with Donnie? He would normally think the more scientific one would appeal, but with Donnie this upset, maybe even science wouldn't leap out to him.]

[So Edward goes with the universal language: music. It only takes him a few moments to decide on the piece, and he tentatively reaches out to Donnie's mind.]

[purplexing]

[He's only recently found out that he can transmit his thoughts, that he's possibly been doing so with snippets of such and emotions for who knows how long. But it's only been one-sided, and Leo had only caught on not long ago, only revealing as much when he replied directly to something Donnie was only able to think, unable to speak as he was, at the time.

Despite being resigned to whatever assistance Edward hoped to give, Donnie makes no attempt to move. He already feels like he's hanging on by a thread, and it feels close to snapping when he suddenly starts hearing music in his head that shouldn't be there.

His own head snaps up with a startled gasp, so abrupt that what's left of the bone spikes jutting from his shell scrape against the wood of the stalls behind them, the world blurred by unshed tears. Okay maybe injecting other things into this turtle's head isn't the best choice.]

[propatriamori]

[Shit.]

[The music cuts out immediately with that reaction, and Edward leans forward, his hands fluttering up in concern.]

That was me, Donnie. I'm so sorry, that was me.

[He's not trying to project anymore--if anything, he's trying not to project--but some of his anxiety and horror at upsetting Donnie may bleed through, as well as the nearly overwhelming concern and feeling of what have I done.]

[purplexing]

[Donnie swipes the back of his hand across his eyes, glancing warily at Ed, uncomprehendingly at first.

His breaths seem like he's trying to calm down at the admission, but as Edward's own feelings begin to seep in, it doesn't take much to unravel those attempts. They're already of a similar vein, and they blend with his already imbalanced emotions. A sob catches in his throat as he pulls his hands over his head, like he could shut out feelings, shut out his own thoughts from his head.

...n-no more, please.

He pleads, unsure of whom he's directing it to, Edward or himself, or whatever force has been inflicting them with these violating changes, perhaps.]

[propatriamori]

No, no more. I promise.

[Edward makes a concentrated effort to shut his own mind down, to close off any and all transmissions that might be going out. He pictures a metal door, closing firmly and locking with a click.]

[And then, mental silence.]

Damn.

[purplexing]

...sorry.

[He's not even sure why he's apologizing, but he's convinced Edward's response is because of something he did, or maybe even didn't do.]

[propatriamori]

You have nothing to apologise for, Donnie.

[Edward lays one of his hands on the ground next to Donnie, palm up.]

I'm the one who should be apologising to you. I'm very sorry; I thought some music might make you feel better, but I should have asked first. I won't do that again.

[purplexing]

[Hesitantly, Donnie slips his hands from his head, looking at the hand set beside him. He's still trying to calm himself, and now that he knows some of it wasn't from him, it feels a tiny bit more manageable.

Slowly he sets his own hand into Edward's, clawed fingers carefully curling around it.]

[propatriamori]

[Oh, thank God. Edward wraps his hand around Donnie's, giving it a little squeeze. Somehow, the young turtle has turned into one of his best friends in this world, and the thought of losing his friendship was almost too horrible to contemplate.]

[purplexing]

[It takes more than that to make him want to drop a friendship. He has precious few of those.

Donnie lets out a quiet sigh, trying not to tighten his grip too much around Edward's hand. It was a misstep earlier, but he's still glad the man-spider is here.]

[propatriamori]

[Edward can feel Donnie gripping down on his hand, and shifts a little. Donnie is holding on to one of the lower hands; Edward lifts his upper arm and puts it behind his head, like he’s scratching his neck. If Donnie decides he wants to lean in for a hug, the path is cleared.]

I have two different things I wanted to tell you about. One is a theory that Raph thought you’d want to hear. The other would require a demonstration, but it’s something scientific.

Would you like to talk about either of those? Or we can simply stay here and not talk at all. Whatever you need right now.

[purplexing]

...not sure my head's in the right place for science right now.

[It's a miserable thing to admit, but his focus has been pretty shot for anything complicated. He hasn't used his ninpō ever since they'd all gotten trapped.

But...he doesn't want to not talk. He's had enough quiet, and hearing words helps.]

What's the theory...?

[propatriamori]

[Not going to draw attention to the idea that Donnie is somehow not in the mood for science and launch right into the theory. Which is, as it turns out, also about science.]

It has to do with evolution. I'm sure Darwin's theories are more refined and studied in your time than in mine, so perhaps you could shed some light on these ideas. I could be entirely wrong about them.

[Edward squeezes Donnie's hand again.]

What if being on Revan causes some sort of accelerated evolution in those of us who are brought here? Species change to adapt to their environments; perhaps the environment here forces us to evolve because we would otherwise not be able to survive in such a hostile place.

Using myself as an example: I would be very hard-pressed to survive here on my own, even if I did still have my sight, and I am, for all intents and purposes, a standard model human.

[purplexing]

[There's different degrees of science. It's still largely a matter of his mindset, and he doesn't know if the demonstration involves him doing something or just watching, but either way, he largely doesn't feel like doing much.]

...I think everyone here used to be human. But magic of some kind was always present because of the moon's presence. And when something happened to it, it oversaturated everything here. But I guess when you look at it that way, these changes are an effect brought on by that occurrence, and it's not only the people that were affected. Other animals, landscapes...

I think there was something that said we were...sharing some burden from the moon..?

[He squints, trying to remember before he sighs again.]

Akechi's been keeping track of of information we find, he's been here longer.

The Silver Tears... the transformation extremists of this world- they embrace the changes...

"Stasis is the ultimate punishment, reserved for the most unworthy. I shall resist it with all my strength, and mourn when even my enemies succumb to it. ...I will always seek out those blessed against Stasis, and bring them into our order. Those blessed by the moon are my kin, companions, and teachers. I will learn from them and guide them."

[A recitation, his tone shifting to something more monotone as he recalls some of the tenants that had been forced upon him, still fresh in his mind.]

[propatriamori]

[While what Donnie is saying is interesting, Edward doesn't care for that dull monotone.]

Where did you learn that?

[His voice is quiet, with no judgment. He genuinely doesn't know where Donnie picked up that Silver Tears stuff.]

[purplexing]

[Beneath Edward's hands, Donnie tenses again, but he finally eases himself to lean against the other.]

Some kind of...vision. I made eye-contact with one of the ghost things and saw a bunch of words flashed in my head, and a red sword stabbing through a book. I know all the code and tenants of the Steel Wardens and the Silver Tears and they're both pretty terrible.

[propatriamori]

[When Donnie leans against him, Edward brings his arm down with slow, patient kindness and wraps it around him.]

I’m sorry that got put into your head. No one needs their mind filled with propaganda. It’s no wonder you’re not feeling yourself.

[He pats Donnie’s shoulder.]

You’re one of the most resilient young men I’ve ever met, though. With a little time and the convoy moving again, I’m sure you’ll be able to move past all this.