Protecting Hope
Jul. 19th, 2013 10:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bittybostaffAs sometimes happened when he became intensely focused on a task, Donatello had lost track of how much time has passed by while he keeps himself hidden away from the rest of the city in his quaint lab. Five days or so had slipped away in a blurred stream of numbers as he built theoretical simulations and crunched variables in radical calculations to assess his current state as well as the possible solution to return himself to a normal teenage mutant turtle. The outbreak virus was reacting violently with the Utrom mutagen in his bloodstream, and trying to separate the two enough to merely assess the interaction was difficult, and would be even in a proper state of mind. The mutagen kept his form from becoming a complete horror show without sense or symmetry, yet, the outbreak virus had made him into a savage beast of a creature and kept struggling for dominance unceasingly.
The hulking shape of his body made everything feel fragile and small in his massive, clawed hands. Even kneeling with the edge of his shell against his heels, he still managed to somehow remain taller than his brother. Still, at the very least his talons allow him to continue to use his keyboard with a delicate, if slower, touch. The worst part of the experience though is not the body, incapable of speech, or even the almost prehistoric reptilian face staring back at him from every reflective surface with glowing red eyes…it is the constant struggle in his mind. Mikey had granted him a foothold in his own mind, but ever since he had initially regained control of his thoughts and his actions, Donatello has found himself forced to continually reign in the instincts and ferocious drive that match his sharp teeth.
For the safety of his brother, for the safety of everyone he cares about in Nautilus, he could not trust himself to keep perfect control against such a thing.
Not when his strength is gradually fading.
Mikey had been extremely helpful in retrieving a list of books from the library for him to aide his research. Shifting to reach for one of the reference books from the stack at the side, the chains linked to solid metal cuffs on his wrists and around his neck clink and rattle with the motion against the floor. He had bent them up to restrain himself should his control wane even for a moment. The sound doesn’t bother him so much really, the comfort the presence of the security measure provides being far more potent to the turtle. If anything, it breaks the quiet beyond the hum of his computers.
Laying the book out beside his keyboard, he scans over the index at the back of the volume, and locates the page he needs to start from. It is the beginning of yet another section in one of many books on retroviruses. There are so many possibilities and so many variables to consider. Even so, it isn’t the daunting task that sets his senses spinning suddenly as he tries to turn the pages in the book. With a shudder, Donatello bows his head forward as a wave of dizziness hits him far harder than any that had preceded it, and his hand goes still over the book with one page resting unturned on a thick digit. The red glow of his eyes disappears from the computer screen in front of him as he shuts his eyes, trying to will the weakness sweeping through him away.
The hulking shape of his body made everything feel fragile and small in his massive, clawed hands. Even kneeling with the edge of his shell against his heels, he still managed to somehow remain taller than his brother. Still, at the very least his talons allow him to continue to use his keyboard with a delicate, if slower, touch. The worst part of the experience though is not the body, incapable of speech, or even the almost prehistoric reptilian face staring back at him from every reflective surface with glowing red eyes…it is the constant struggle in his mind. Mikey had granted him a foothold in his own mind, but ever since he had initially regained control of his thoughts and his actions, Donatello has found himself forced to continually reign in the instincts and ferocious drive that match his sharp teeth.
For the safety of his brother, for the safety of everyone he cares about in Nautilus, he could not trust himself to keep perfect control against such a thing.
Not when his strength is gradually fading.
Mikey had been extremely helpful in retrieving a list of books from the library for him to aide his research. Shifting to reach for one of the reference books from the stack at the side, the chains linked to solid metal cuffs on his wrists and around his neck clink and rattle with the motion against the floor. He had bent them up to restrain himself should his control wane even for a moment. The sound doesn’t bother him so much really, the comfort the presence of the security measure provides being far more potent to the turtle. If anything, it breaks the quiet beyond the hum of his computers.
Laying the book out beside his keyboard, he scans over the index at the back of the volume, and locates the page he needs to start from. It is the beginning of yet another section in one of many books on retroviruses. There are so many possibilities and so many variables to consider. Even so, it isn’t the daunting task that sets his senses spinning suddenly as he tries to turn the pages in the book. With a shudder, Donatello bows his head forward as a wave of dizziness hits him far harder than any that had preceded it, and his hand goes still over the book with one page resting unturned on a thick digit. The red glow of his eyes disappears from the computer screen in front of him as he shuts his eyes, trying to will the weakness sweeping through him away.
