Motherly Affection
~*~*~*~
Frost and Fire
Hallo, everyone. Will not be updating anyhting tonight-my grandparents are visiting from Michigan later on...... :)
Which meand=s my grandpa is going to try and force me into the Marines-and my grandmother is going to talk about....boats.
Ah, well. This segment, as always, is dedicated to Mikell.
どうかあなた自身の面倒をみてください。
Quote:
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
It had hurt.
A good deal.
But Splinter ignored the dull aches from the still throbbing scratches of his wound-forcing himself to not undertake less sanitary movements he
would've applied in his old form- such as licking the gashes on his wrist clean.
Resisting the urge with a shuddering sigh, the rat moved his aching body from the side of the rarely ridden road, reached for the staff that lay
several meters away, and began to quietly limp down the ditches, a scowl marring his features as he glanced around, heart pounding beneath
his ribs.
His sons.....
Leonardo, Raphael, Donatello, and Michaelangelo.....!
What had happened to them since the....?!
Splinter whipped his head up as he drew underneath a willow branch, allowoing excess water that was gently plopping from the green leaves
to quietly plod on his still gleaming arm.
With a shuddering sigh, he removed it, using the rough material of his sleeve to untidily bandage it up.
Well, that was not important now. Finding them-and bringing them safely home again-was.
He sniffed the air.
There was nothing. The rain must've washe it all...!
Resisting the urge to release an anguished cry, Splinter took off into the darkness.
"LEONARDO!"
No answer. Splinter reached for a damp-but nonettheless working flashlight in his pocket Donatello had taught him to use.
"MICHELANGELO!"
Silence.
"RAPHAEL!"
More raindrops found his fur.
Splinter grit his teeth, desperation beginning to brew in his stomach like that of a captive fungi.
"DONATELLO!
WHERE ARE YOU?!"