Raphael Hamato (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
othersdestructive) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ya_assemble2014-11-28 01:29 am
othersdestructive) wrote in ya_assemble2014-11-28 01:29 am
Entry tags:
[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.
no subject
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."
no subject
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.
no subject
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?