Splinter walked into the living room, silent and unobserved by his four sons as usual. For a wonder, all four was in the same room and relatively peaceful for the moment. He paused at the threshold, and took a silent observation of them, for they were characteristically occupied in a way that was very fitting for their various personality temperaments.
Leonardo, his enthusiasm markedly lowered since his long trip in the adventures of a certain space hero, was currently reading a book in his favorite chair. He seemed to be concentrating hard on the text. Splinter found himself smiling fondly as he watched his oldest son. When Leo was doing anything, he tended to give his whole mind to that task. It is this single-mindedness that made him such an excellent warrior. It also makes him frustrating to his brothers, but means that he is ever vigilant in his watch over his brothers and trying to keep them safe. Splinter smiled fondly as he watched his eldest read. He missed his steady, calm precedence. Now, his family felt, if not calm, then complete. An even bass, to the Song that his son's auras produced when all were safe in the lair.
Raphael was near the entrance, doing push-ups and muttering as he worked out. Splinter decided to believe that he was counting. He, in his own way, was as single-minded as Leo ever was. The fact that the two were often at odds. But his nature was far more fiery. Disciplined, but fiery, and as driven as a forest fire. At the moment, the constant fire is more of a comforting glow rather than a destructive blaze. And at the moment, he was burning his surplus energy, um, what is the phrase? Feeling the burn? Pumping the iron? Well, something to that affect. His aura was less like a steady beat, more like an electric guitar, often blazing in the foreground, sometimes harmonizing, sometimes discordant, always unable to be ignored.
Michelangelo was playing with the two household pets. He had a slight smile as he watched the two play, or rather watch Klunk play and Spike Jr. pull into his shell. Klunk was by far the more active of the two, and seemed to feel that now was a really good time to play a lively game of pounce the turtle. Spike Jr. however, seemed to prefer to tuck himself into his shell and pretend the kitten didn't exist at the moment, difficult as it seemed to be when Klunk kept trying to stick his curious paws into the shell. Splinter wished him luck in that endeavor. He himself knew how difficult the little fur ball was to ignore when said fur ball was intent on making you pay attention to him. Michelangelo was more relaxed than splinter remembered seeing him in a while. His smile grew warmer. Mikey's warm, easygoing aura washed over the vibes of the rest of the room, making it feel brighter and friendlier than it would have otherwise felt. It sounded like a piano or some kind of brass instrument. It harmonizes, it often grabs the attention with its bright, upbeat music, but didn't clash nearly as much as Raphael's tended to. Unless it was busy with the pastime of pranking…
Donatello was pounding furiously on the keyboard, alternating between working on what looked like some kind of document full of convoluted figures from what splinter could see, and a couple of those little boxes that means he was, um, well, the term was…what? E-mailing? Chattering? Messaging? He had forgotten what it was. Donatello had kindly offered to teach splinter how to do that e-mailing and chattering on the computer, but Splinter was firm on not being enlightened in this area. He had less than no interest learning how to talk to little people on computers. Donatello was focused, though how he could be while multi-tasking in such….wait, a chessboard just came up on the screen. He's chattering, and writing a paper of some kind, and playing chess? Splinter was not sure if such multitasking was a desirable idea, but he shrugged. To each their own, he supposed. But it would explain the want of calm that his next to youngest son was usually emitting. A shame, it was such a constant that he found himself searching in vain for the calm, even vibe that played like a steading beat through the others vibrations, both steadying and harmonizing the whole without his brothers ever being aware of the fact. Come to think of it, he had missed that even tempo for some time, and until now had simply assumed that it was because of the absence of Leo, that Don's aura was, well, subdued. Now, he was no longer so certain.
He sighed and shook his head. They were acting much as they did two years ago, more or less. But the atmosphere now crackled, as it does before a storm. It was full of suppressed tension. For the moment, it did not come from the second oldest, Raphael, but from…he was not sure. Michelangelo? No, definitely not from that side of the room…but he had no time to wonder, or worry about that at the moment. For noticing Raphael reminded him of why he was in the room in the first place, of the errand he had. "Raphael. Come to my room, if you please." The words were soft, the tone deferential and polite. But his sons knew a command from their sensei when they heard it. Raphael jumped to his feet in one graceful motion. "Hai, Sensei." He said warily. Splinter felt rather than saw the blues and brown eyes of his other sons as they turned as one to watch to see what was going on. Leo's face showed confusion and some worry, behind its customary calm, Mikey's was frankly curious, with a touch of amusement. He obviously assumed Raphael was in trouble, and wanted to know what he did. Donatello's expression was indifferent, and he quickly returned to the computer screen.
Splinter stood and waited for Raphael to go ahead, then silently followed, closing the door behind him. Let his brothers stare. All would become clear in the fullness of time. He only hoped that they would not eavesdrop, or rather try to eavesdrop. They should know better by now. Or get into any arguments before he came back outside.