[the heavy thumps and clatters of raphael moving around cumbersome appliances that no one creature has any business being able to lift and move is almost meditative, in a way. maybe donatello doesn't want to talk about it either (okay, he DEFINITELY doesn't want to talk about it) but even with his battle shell on he still feels...exposed.
he's felt that way for weeks now. at least he's no longer trying to jump out of his skin or literally bite anyone who puts a hand on his shoulder.
but with raphael back there, making an unholy amount of noise that would no doubt bring repo mantis over if he were still around, it's almost like his shell is to a wall. a very comforting, very sturdy wall. donnie can completely lose himself in his work without having to worry because he knows raphael's probably keeping at least one and a half eyes on him even while he hauls around 400 pounds of metal, glass, and plastic to line up in a neat little row.]
Dang-...nut, [donnie grouses, wrenching at a component that just won't come loose. buildup and rust had claimed the connecting hardware and no amount of WD-40 and not-quite-gentle coaxing was getting it loose. he could always cut it with a laser, if he wanted to set the entire engine block on fire.] Raph, [donnie calls over his shoulder without looking away,] I need you to literally rip this engine apart for me. [that should make him happy.
...except he isn't answering. something cold prickles at the back of donnie's neck. he doesn't want to turn and look; some sick, deep, animalistic fear that tells him not to look. he has to look.
arms still buried in the car engine, donatello looks over his shoulder. there is no raphael, no line of refridgerators. there's no junkyard, no new york; just the wet, pulsing walls of the kraang ship closing in.]
no subject
he's felt that way for weeks now. at least he's no longer trying to jump out of his skin or literally bite anyone who puts a hand on his shoulder.
but with raphael back there, making an unholy amount of noise that would no doubt bring repo mantis over if he were still around, it's almost like his shell is to a wall. a very comforting, very sturdy wall. donnie can completely lose himself in his work without having to worry because he knows raphael's probably keeping at least one and a half eyes on him even while he hauls around 400 pounds of metal, glass, and plastic to line up in a neat little row.]
Dang-...nut, [donnie grouses, wrenching at a component that just won't come loose. buildup and rust had claimed the connecting hardware and no amount of WD-40 and not-quite-gentle coaxing was getting it loose. he could always cut it with a laser, if he wanted to set the entire engine block on fire.] Raph, [donnie calls over his shoulder without looking away,] I need you to literally rip this engine apart for me. [that should make him happy.
...except he isn't answering. something cold prickles at the back of donnie's neck. he doesn't want to turn and look; some sick, deep, animalistic fear that tells him not to look. he has to look.
arms still buried in the car engine, donatello looks over his shoulder. there is no raphael, no line of refridgerators. there's no junkyard, no new york; just the wet, pulsing walls of the kraang ship closing in.]