Chapter rating: T.
I use the English spelling, not American;)
Word count: 715
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RAIDERS
At 20:46 p.m., Raphael throws his Sai's to the jacinthe and cinnabar coloured floor. The tips dive into the mats, glittering needles weaving velvet. From across the room, Raphael's master stands ever so patiently; still as a fossa hunting prey. Hands folded neatly behind, copper eyes dancing brown zircon. He watches as his son starts to pace frantically, an involuntary habit. Eyes a storm of green, like the tint of the sky before a tornado lands. Raphael bits his lip then stops walking suddenly, looking up into Splinter's eyes.
His son's solider has fallen.
"Raphael." Splinter says sternly, bringing his hands in front of him and banging his walking stick on the floor once for emphasis. Raphael breaks eye contact and drops to the floor in front of his Sai's, pulling them out of the floor. Yet instead of putting his signature weapon back on his body, he lets them clash as his fingers lose their grasp on the red leather grip. "Raphael."
The red-banded turtle doesn't look up. He pulls at his white hand wrappings self-consciously, eyes not even paying attention to his actions. For someone with so much rage, one wouldn't think Raphael would have so many nervous habits. Especially after a screaming match. His hands now play with some invisible dust on the mats. Splinter sighs.
"My son," Splinter starts. Raphael doesn't budge. "Do you know why I told you to stay after training?"
A pause, then––Raphael opens his mouth to speak, but decides against it. He starts to tap lightly with a finger instead as the alternative.
"I see." The mutant rat starts to pace himself, but stops when he realises what he's doing. "You know, for someone who just did so much yelling, you seem awfully quiet." Splinter looks off with wistful eyes, mockingly. After a couple moments without so much of the stiff thud tapping sound from Raphael, Splinter glances over at his second-oldest. His finger seems to pound the floor louder as his anger starts to boil up inside.
His tapping halts suddenly and he stares up, going ridged. "I do not ever want to see those Sai's in my life again." Raphael drawls out his words carefully, stoically; his voice holding no emotion what's so ever. As if he's stating a fact. He rather as much be stating a fact.
Then the air is being pulled back. Stripping every particle, every molecule, periodic element, spectrum, colour, love, life, bit by bit by bit––
And then everything is black and white. Splinter falls to ground, clutching... and out tumbles out his heart, internal organs. He bleeds the sorrows and unspoken white-lies: out his mouth, his nose, his ears. A river of blood and with it his soulful eyes. Raphael's own eyes are wide with morbid fear and shock a few meters away, his body turning blue as he freezes...but he recovers quickly. Without so much of a thought, or rather, so much thought, he snapped a cord with scarcely a nanosecond's warning.
Splinter's head presses up against the cold floor of the dojo, to get rid of the pounding and clouding of his head. Watches the world though a tilt: colours gradually fading until he is nothing but everything at once. Inside a black box, this is all a hallucination. Splinter knows this fully.
Portrait, Self Portrait: The Rat Inside The Box of Darkness.
Raphael stands, picks up the twins he threw at his master's feet. Castor and Pollux. The glint of metal as bright as Pollux's immorality. He picks them up, stained with the imaginary blood that no one can see. Raphael then places them in the rat's hands, helps his master curl his fingers around them. One in each hand, a soul broken in two.
"I don't want them, Sensei. Not after what happened."
Raphael walks out of the dojo.
Next chapter on what really happened with Raph;) This was sort of just an introduction to the topic.
I use lots of metaphors, #sorrynotsorry.
Usually chapters will be longer than this;)