mnr_splinter: (Human Talking)
"Mister Charlie Sage."
mnr_splinter: (Human Pensive)
No matter how large scale the change, or far reaching its implications, eventually dust settles, new patterns replace the old, and life continues apace.

Which is why, even though the sun is out and the lake is calm, he is indoors preparing to settle in for a leisurely lunch with his stories.
mnr_splinter: (Human Talking)
A pinpoint of blue light disturbs quiet silence of the darkened room. It starts near the floor, but slowly expands to form a bright blue rectangle on one wall. There is now a door where once there was a solid wall of cinder block and concrete. The door opens, filling the room with light from...well somewhere else.

"Please pardon the dust. I have not been spending nearly as much time here now that Magellan has arrived."
It should be noted that there's not a speck of dust to be found...anywhere. Aside from a high water marks that stains the walls, and the overall lack of windows, there's no indication that this collection of rooms is part of the greater New York City sewer system.
mnr_splinter: (Wistful)
Is the sound that pulls the old rat out of a very deep, and comfortable sleep.

"What is it, Michaelangelo," he mutters into the pillow.

"There's a girl in my bed," Mike whispers conspiratorially. "And she's not wearing any clothes." There's a tinge of shock and mischievousness in that last bit.

"That would be Melaka," replies Splinter with the unflappable tone that comes from being a not-awake single father of four. 

"'Kay. But...she's hogging all the covers. Can I sleep with you?"
There's really no time for Splinter to reply, because even as Mike is asking permission, he's also burrowing under the covers and snuggling up close to his father.

It's only after the slightly room temperature touch of his son's shell and suede soft skin that Splinter begins to realize that maybe, just maybe, there might be something very very wrong going on here. 

Very slowly he opens one eye, and instead of the sandy-haired white man he wished a good night to  the evening before, he finds the tiny form of a smiling seven year old mutant turtle. 

What comes next is a swear that would make Raphael blush, were he within ear shot...and had he kept up with his studies in Japanese.
mnr_splinter: (Meditating)
It's often easy to tell when the master and mistress of the house have gone for the day. For one there is considerably less in the way of background noise, for another the ambient light in the living room shifts from halogen lamps to tea light. But really the biggest tip off is the whistle of a teakettle from the stove.

On a low table in the center of the room lay a chess board. Seated at either side of the board are two brothers. Their hands move with such speed that it almost appears as if they are playing their sides simultaneously. In terms of Speed Chess this would be remarkable game to behold. As an exercise in Ninja Chess, however, it leaves a bit to be desired. At least as far as Splinter's high standards are concerned. 

Perhaps he should allow them to take the blindfolds off....

"Your move, Donatello," says the old rat as he heads for the kitchen to see to the kettle.
mnr_splinter: (Default)
Mel and Mike's comfortably cluttered home has become a bit more tidy and refined with Splinter living in residence.
It smells less of baking, there is no sign of dust anywhere, and for the first time EVER there is tea in the kitchen.

Though the most obvious change to the landscape has to be the the addition of a low table and several plush floor cushions to the living room decor.
The Love Sack, while comfortable, is far too undignified a piece of furniture for the ninja master to make a habit of using.
mnr_splinter: (The Master)
It's around mid-morning at Milliways when Splinter climbs the stairs and wends his way to Michaelangelo's suite. A faint smile curls along his muzzle as he raps solidly on the door with the end of his staff. The announcement should be loud enough to wake even the heaviest sleeping ninja, by his calculations.
mnr_splinter: (Hmmm)
Not that any of them tend to choose the destination or the modus operandi, but it is a fact that beings arrive at the Bar at the End of the Universe in all manner of different ways. Sometimes they walk through the front door; sometimes they apparate spectacularly into the middle of the bar; and sometimes they materialize in the bath tubs of certain upstairs rooms during an attempt to use a 'new' hi-tech toaster. The visitor in this case is unfortunate enough to fit into the latter category.

It is around mid-morning when the shower curtain of the Suite 134 guest bathroom billows out and flares in a momentary blaze of purple light. From behind it there is a thud, an oof and the clatter of wood on porcelain.

Silence follows. However, if one were to listen very carefully, one might pick up the sound of head fur being scratched confusedly.

Then out drifts a dazed voice. It is a voice that holds as much wisdom as it does bemusement. And it is a voice that escalates in pitch to convey an annoyed accusation and the imminent threat of walking stick-related repercussions.



mnr_splinter: (Default)
Hamato Splinter

August 2013



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