Raphael Hamato (
othersdestructive) wrote in
ya_assemble2014-11-28 01:29 am
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[LN] Beat of His Own Drums [Open]
As soon as the yeti finished that beautiful, beautiful brand spankin' new not liberated from the trash drum kit, Raph had swooped in and commandeered it, dragging it off piece by piece to the room he'd also commandeered as his own when he'd first arrived.
"You can make another one," he'd shot back at the pouting yeti, who'd sighed and gotten back to work as he stole the cymbals.
It was a Pearl Export kit. Not exactly top of the line but solid, had a good sound just like the real thing (talk about trademark infringement, right?), and most importantly of all, it was new. Like so few of Raph's belongings were. In fact, the only belongings he had that weren't, ahem, "recycled," were things April and Casey had given him. Everything else was junk scavenged from the surface by Splinter - and then by him and his brothers when they started going up.
New drums. Actual new drums. And a new cd player. And new cds. He'd managed to grab a few new things, actual new things. For the first time in his life, he was playing on a new drum kit.
All the "you have to save all of existence" stuff aside, this place rocked.
That was why he was in his room banging away, sometimes playing very recognizable drums beats by themselves, sometimes in time with the original music. If it sounded like he was crazy enthusiastic about what he was doing, it was because he was.
He'd left his door open out of a general lack of consideration for others, but the noise didn't add much more noise pollution to the busy workshop than there was - and at least he was good. Very good, in fact.
"You can make another one," he'd shot back at the pouting yeti, who'd sighed and gotten back to work as he stole the cymbals.
It was a Pearl Export kit. Not exactly top of the line but solid, had a good sound just like the real thing (talk about trademark infringement, right?), and most importantly of all, it was new. Like so few of Raph's belongings were. In fact, the only belongings he had that weren't, ahem, "recycled," were things April and Casey had given him. Everything else was junk scavenged from the surface by Splinter - and then by him and his brothers when they started going up.
New drums. Actual new drums. And a new cd player. And new cds. He'd managed to grab a few new things, actual new things. For the first time in his life, he was playing on a new drum kit.
All the "you have to save all of existence" stuff aside, this place rocked.
That was why he was in his room banging away, sometimes playing very recognizable drums beats by themselves, sometimes in time with the original music. If it sounded like he was crazy enthusiastic about what he was doing, it was because he was.
He'd left his door open out of a general lack of consideration for others, but the noise didn't add much more noise pollution to the busy workshop than there was - and at least he was good. Very good, in fact.
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She scowled across the bed at him. "I can't raise people from the dead or even guaranteed travel through time with my magic, I'm not about to fling myself into the sucking void between realities where Kuk is on the off-chance I can make it home, much less bring Molly with me. There's no where to run, so I might as well fight."
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He went on, "Yeah, we wanna save people but don't make it out to be like it's somehow more noble than the kinda stuff you and your team do. And don't think for a second that running away is somehow less heroic than fighting a fight you can't win. Sometimes you have to run to live to fight another day. Sometimes you have to step back and let other people step up if you can't handle something, like all the times we let Splinter take over if we weren't good enough, or how we left New York in the hands of the army so they're least keeping things from spreading while we're away. We left it to them because we had to, because we'd be dead otherwise. Our dad was already gone and Leo was in a coma."
He shot her a very confused look. "You're not somehow less heroic than me and my brothers and our friends. When you're a ninja, you don't fight fair. You sneak, you deceive, you lie, you cheat, you steal, and when you're in over your head, you run. That's how you win and that's how you help other people because you survive to win. I don't know why you've got it in your head that self-preservation somehow makes you less noble or heroic but whoever taught you that is an idiot. It's not some kinda character trait that decides how good or bad you are, it's a tactic."
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He held a hand to his chest, near where his plastron met his neckline - the place that the scientists in that creepy lab had started to saw into. It had long since healed up but the way he held his hand there made it look almost like he still felt vulnerable about it.
"But the three of you saved me and Mikey. You were the ones who were there, not some big shot superheroes. You got us out. You got everyone out even though some of 'em probably didn't deserve it and you torched the place to the ground when you saw the kinda evil they were getting up to. That says to me that you were the ones that should've been there."
He caught her gaze, green eyes practically beaming sincerity - and something else. Maybe admiration? Gratitude?
"So lemme tell you a little secret, as someone who's pretty tough and part of a pretty tough team - everybody's winging it. Even people who know what they're doing are winging it. Even if you can't see why those kids might want you here, it's clear as anything to me."
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"Yeah, well," she said, looking away to try and hide the smile curling her lips upward into her warming cheeks, "I guess I'll just take your word for it."
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Okay, so now what? That was, uh. He usually didn't get that openly sincere. He had no idea how to deal with the aftermath.
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"Didn't you just finish that?" she said, smiling to take any sting out of her teasing. "I'm pretty sure that you just showed me how that one ends."
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"You are allowed to reread comics you know. Look at all the pretty pictures."
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"I would've been distracted by the plot if it had one."
Confirming that maybe something else had distracted him.
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She readjusted her grip on her sewing. "Sounds like it's not worth me asking to borrow it."
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He put it down and picked up another, what looked like a reprint of a very old comic. Weird Fantasy #18.
"This one looks like it has good plots."
He'd skimmed it earlier.
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Technically, read silently while I sew silently was also an option, but that one seemed like it might get awkward. At the very least, they might start accidentally kicking each other.
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"You can stay. Although reading it out loud isn't gonna do much good when you can't see the pictures."
She could move a little closer maybe.
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She jabbed the needle through her sewing and rose up on her knees. "Scootch."
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Oh.
He scootched.
"You, uh, you might wanna - here." He put a thin pillow between them to help cushion against his shell. You know. In case she needed to lean in close. That way her side would be cushioned and she could always lean her head against his shoulder.
Or something.
There were also plenty of pillows for her to prop herself up with. He had a ton of 'em.
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Nico settled in at the head of the bed, adjusting the pillow and her position until she was comfortable and would be able to see the comic and wasn't pinning his arm between her shoulder and his shell.
Huh, he really did run warm.
"All right," she said, once she was satisfied with her position. "Let's see this comic with a good story."
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That way she could focus on the sewing and just occasionally glance at the art.
"'The man roared down from the night sky. He'd come from the infinite void of space, across the endless cosmic vacuum. He'd come from the planet Earth. He'd come in a ship of gleaming alloys, belching blue flames and yellow clouds of atomic dust. And he'd come alone...'"
Like the man in the story, crossing the endless vacuum to places unknown, he was treading into the unknown right now, into a strange place where he felt the warmth of someone against his arm, and a strange, curling, tingling sensation in his gut.
But what could you do with something like this? He didn't want to escape it, shove it away. All he could do was keep moving forward, farther into the unknown, hoping it led to something bright and new instead of something dark and cold.
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This was nice. Raph seemed nice. They could...they could just be nice and enjoy this. It was a big bad multiverse out there, they could have this.
Right?