Appointments Post
This is for any threads that need to be played out with just Mike and whoever that don't quite need their own post or log.
Subject lines should include [Action], [Voice], or [Written] and the date the thread takes place.
( table of contents )
Subject lines should include [Action], [Voice], or [Written] and the date the thread takes place.
( table of contents )
[He doesn't know how the hell his journal got here, but at this point, he doesn't really give a damn. He can't even see straight, and every inch of him hurts like hell, so he's got bigger things to worry about. Like catching his breath past the raw pain in his chest, or somehow sitting up with a dislocated shoulder and miners with pickaxes pounding away at his head.
He tries to glance up and guess how far he fell, but stars erupt across his vision along with a stabbing pain in his neck.
A long time ago, back at home, he had a fall like this. He was sore for weeks after, and vowed he's never let it happen again. But here he is, Turtle Luck running true to form.
After god-knows-how-long of sitting there with his shell leaning against a tree figuring, just how bad he's broken himself this time, he manages to reach for the journal and hit the right button for his brother.]
Mike.
[From the sound of his voice, he's definitely not all-there mentally. His mouth feels like it's full of cotton.]
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Raph? What's wrong? Where are you?
[Holy crap, you sound terrible.]
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[He's already out the window, 'chuck in hand and journal in the other.]
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Don't remember. Got - caught up - lookin' for Derek.
[He swallows and pants again.]
Don't tell Don.
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[He'll ask about Derek later. And he's not making any promises about Don, either. He needs to see how badly you're hurt, first. You may be mad at him, but it'd be dumb to refuse medical treatment just because of that.]
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[Keep talking bro. Maybe you'll be able to get him some useful info, because man this is going to be like looking for a needle in a haystack. He should have woken up the others. He shouldn't be out here alone. But he can't go back. Not when Raph's waiting for him to come.]
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[But if you think he's just gonna sit there and wait like some damsel in distress, you're wrong. Far as he can tell his shoulder got the worst of it. He should be able to walk.
He starts mentally preparing to stand.]
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[He knows better than to say something like, "stay put."]
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On the other end of the line, Raph's getting ready to haul himself upwards. Soon as he gets his legs where he wants them, he grits his teeth and reaches up with his good arm on the trunk of the tree he's been leaning on for support.
One. Two. Three...
A brilliant flash of pain erupts in front of his vision as something grinds somewhere around his bad side.]
S-Son of a bitch!
[He gasps, gritting his teeth and stands half-slumped against the tree. His right arm's useless and limp at his side, and he reaches over to grab it and keep it from dangling sickeningly.
He's pretty broken, little brother, but he's stubborn and he won't take this lying down.]
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Think - my shell's - busted. Crap. [He really doesn't want to deal with this. Don's gonna be so smug, but he doesn't even care. He lost Derek. Now that thing wearing his skin is out there somewhere looking for blood.] RRRRRRRR!
[He doesn't care that he hurts. The flash of pain erupting through him as he buries his fist in the trunk of the tree feels good] Damn it!
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[Then quieter, over the journal:] Raph, quit moving! Stay put, or I'll call Don.
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[He'll go to Fujiko instead. He doesn't need Don's shit.]
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Fine! I'll call- [Wait. Wait. He knows this. Don's not the only doctor they know...] Ami!
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