[He does pause to put his thoughts into a loose sentence, a possible use of language.] Some part of me still wants to give him space, so I don't- ruin what he has.
But... after the scare I gave him, and a couple talks we had, I don't think it's as good of an idea as I thought it was originally. [Look at him, some realizations...]
I believe that's a good conclusion to reach. Otherwise you might see history repeating itself- a father withdrawing, and a son desperately seeking the attention he used to have, and still craves.
[A little cutthroat, perhaps, but it was Leonardo himself who said it: that's what his father did, and his father is what he doesn't want to become.]
[The cutthroat comment does a good job of making the turtle wilt into himself a little. He mutters into his teacup.] oh god, I am becoming my father... Damn it.
[Give him a second.]
Okay, I'll- remember that, I just...have such a big fear of hindering him. Ruining everything by being here. Trying to stay away wouldn't help, though.
Fear's natural. There's a saying: courage isn't the absence of fear, but the strength to surpass it. You can be afraid of what your presence changes in his life, that you might make a mistake. Acknowledging it is a good thing. But think about what kind of mistakes he might forgive you for, and which might change how he thinks of you, long after you're gone.
[That sort of ruin is apparently something he has experience with, judging by his comment about Donatello. The absence of an active father is at least one mistake he's seen the consequences of, and can choose to avoid.]
It sounds like you know what you're meant to do, then, and where to be. It's now a matter of fighting the urge to go back on it, and follow through instead. It can feel like an uphill battle, but the decision itself is critical.
[He hasn't fought decades of a daily, seemingly endless and losing war, he doesn't know that exhaustion. He does know something about a seemingly unstoppable foe, though his fight was less up close and personal, more a slow decay of all he held dear, by the encroaching corruption of the forest around his home. Different enough not to feel the same weight, similar enough to understand the weariness that sinks in over time.]
You need to train the war out of the horse. Separate the fight from who you are as a person. This war started when you were still a child, so you never had the chance to grow into the adult you were meant to be and instead became what you are now. Go back to your roots. What were your dreams?
[Cad's assurance at least takes some of the fight out of the grumbling turtle. Thinking about what his dreams were back then is jarring. He's not that person anymore. All of it feels like a distant, hazy dream. Tendrils of mist he can only faintly feel but not grasp.]
I mostly just wanted to spend time with my family. Patrolling New York to stop crime was just an easy excuse for it. After Pops made me leader, I guess I just wanted to keep my brothers safe. [He offers simply back. Dedicated to his family regardless of war or not.] Anything else was just basic stuff I did as a kid: play basketball, skateboard, read comics, and start fights with my brothers for no reason.
I didn't dream about doing much of anything with my life. Just living it, I guess.
It sounds to me as if your first task is to start allowing yourself to dream again.
[Dreams are very important, in his experience. Dreams, and hopes, and wishes for your life, for your future, for those you love.]
You can lead with the basics, if that helps. Dream small, so you can learn how to do it again. Then you might remember how to dream big again. That's how rehabilitation begins: take a single step, don't jump. Let your dreams be sourced from what you wanted. For example, you wanted to spend time with your family. So if you can't decide what to do, then the first step is to find out what they want to do, and do it with them.
[He hums a little, mulling that over properly. Later on the conversation will spark the idea of a trip with Donnie. For now, he draws a blank on where to start.]
Never a cheat code to these kinds of things, huh? [It is a rhetorical question on his part.] I've been taking my twin out on walks sometimes. [walkies for Donatello] Right now, we're both just in the apartment a lot. Maybe I can get him a plant or something, see about working on that with him. I'll ask him about it. Casey and I just… talked about basketball together, so, I know that's happening.
That's a very good first start. I'm sure they both appreciate your company. [Take that twin for a walkie, teach the child sports, you do the thing.] Would you like to take a plant home with you? I've got plenty as it is.
[They're already kind of surrounded, and that's not even counting the garden on the roof, or in either yard. He's got gardens for days.]
[The offer definitely takes Leo by surprise. He blinks.] You sure-? I know plant people get really attached to what they've grown. You put a lot of love into all of these.
Most of them have been with me for a long time. A change of scenery could do them some good, I think. Nature is made to move and thrive, not remain stagnant forever.
[His family is supposed to be the gift-givers. This is a pretty simple way to start giving.]
When you put it like that, I guess I can't say no. [He jokes back, laughing lightly.] Wouldn't be bad to have a plant in the apartment. Hopefully Donnie doesn't mutate it somehow.
I'll trust you to take care of it. If anything happens, prepare to be scolded.
[His tone is lighthearted, despite the words. Things happen; he's already had to rebuild his garden here.
He stands up, taking a slow walk through the kitchen, examining each plant, murmuring a little to himself as he checks and lightly touches each. If Leonardo listens closely he might hear it: "you want to go? no, not yet. okay. how about you? not sure, huh. you're excited? ha ha..."
He finally settles on a mid-sized schlumbergera, pulling it down from its hook and setting it on the counter between them.]
This guy's ready to move on. Low maintenance, too. Good starter plant.
[Listening to Cad drift by to speak with his plants earns a low chuckle from the turtle. He isn't even sure what to think beyond finding amusement in it. The whole thing is charming in a way he can't articulate.
He smiles down at the plant, patting the pot gently.]
Well, buddy, I hope you enjoy apartment living. [He glances back up at the firbolg.] I'll do my best to keep this guy healthy and happy.
Best practice: place it near a window, sunlight during the day, curtains closed at night. The nice thing is, you only need to water it about once a week. Two weeks, if it isn't too hot. So it's alright if you forget.
He's a tattle tale, huh? I'll keep that in mind. [He mimes patting the plant, but never makes contact with the greenery.
He does pull out his relic at the instructions. Swapping it from his metal hand to his fleshy one to write that down in a notes app in the relic itself.] Okay, got that jotted down.
Good, good. [Caduceus returns to his teacup, satisfied.] Please don't take this as a, "we're done, get out", but was there anything else you wanted to discuss? On or off topic.
[This is Leonardo's appointment, still. He has no desire to cut someone off before they're ready.]
I had ONE more thing in mind, but, I've forgotten it, LMAO
[He snorts a little at that.] Not that's coming to mind. I was just... trying to figure out what to even do with myself, how not to scare Casey again. I'm not a particularly great father, but I'd like to be a good one.
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But... after the scare I gave him, and a couple talks we had, I don't think it's as good of an idea as I thought it was originally. [Look at him, some realizations...]
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I believe that's a good conclusion to reach. Otherwise you might see history repeating itself- a father withdrawing, and a son desperately seeking the attention he used to have, and still craves.
[A little cutthroat, perhaps, but it was Leonardo himself who said it: that's what his father did, and his father is what he doesn't want to become.]
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[Give him a second.]
Okay, I'll- remember that, I just...have such a big fear of hindering him. Ruining everything by being here. Trying to stay away wouldn't help, though.
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[That sort of ruin is apparently something he has experience with, judging by his comment about Donatello. The absence of an active father is at least one mistake he's seen the consequences of, and can choose to avoid.]
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I hope the mistakes I do make are things he can forgive me for. We can grow past.
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I'll add it to my list. [Half a joke, half not.] Focusing on Casey will at least help. Outside of that, I dunno what the hell to do with myself.
What do you do with an old war horse when there isn't a war anymore?
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Rehabilitation is a good start.
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I don't want to fight anymore, so training is not in the picture. I'd rather chew off my remaining arm than be ready to fight at all times anymore.
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[He hasn't fought decades of a daily, seemingly endless and losing war, he doesn't know that exhaustion. He does know something about a seemingly unstoppable foe, though his fight was less up close and personal, more a slow decay of all he held dear, by the encroaching corruption of the forest around his home. Different enough not to feel the same weight, similar enough to understand the weariness that sinks in over time.]
You need to train the war out of the horse. Separate the fight from who you are as a person. This war started when you were still a child, so you never had the chance to grow into the adult you were meant to be and instead became what you are now. Go back to your roots. What were your dreams?
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I mostly just wanted to spend time with my family. Patrolling New York to stop crime was just an easy excuse for it. After Pops made me leader, I guess I just wanted to keep my brothers safe. [He offers simply back. Dedicated to his family regardless of war or not.] Anything else was just basic stuff I did as a kid: play basketball, skateboard, read comics, and start fights with my brothers for no reason.
I didn't dream about doing much of anything with my life. Just living it, I guess.
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[Dreams are very important, in his experience. Dreams, and hopes, and wishes for your life, for your future, for those you love.]
You can lead with the basics, if that helps. Dream small, so you can learn how to do it again. Then you might remember how to dream big again. That's how rehabilitation begins: take a single step, don't jump. Let your dreams be sourced from what you wanted. For example, you wanted to spend time with your family. So if you can't decide what to do, then the first step is to find out what they want to do, and do it with them.
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Never a cheat code to these kinds of things, huh? [It is a rhetorical question on his part.] I've been taking my twin out on walks sometimes. [walkies for Donatello] Right now, we're both just in the apartment a lot. Maybe I can get him a plant or something, see about working on that with him. I'll ask him about it. Casey and I just… talked about basketball together, so, I know that's happening.
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[They're already kind of surrounded, and that's not even counting the garden on the roof, or in either yard. He's got gardens for days.]
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[His family is supposed to be the gift-givers. This is a pretty simple way to start giving.]
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[His tone is lighthearted, despite the words. Things happen; he's already had to rebuild his garden here.
He stands up, taking a slow walk through the kitchen, examining each plant, murmuring a little to himself as he checks and lightly touches each. If Leonardo listens closely he might hear it: "you want to go? no, not yet. okay. how about you? not sure, huh. you're excited? ha ha..."
He finally settles on a mid-sized schlumbergera, pulling it down from its hook and setting it on the counter between them.]
This guy's ready to move on. Low maintenance, too. Good starter plant.
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He smiles down at the plant, patting the pot gently.]
Well, buddy, I hope you enjoy apartment living. [He glances back up at the firbolg.] I'll do my best to keep this guy healthy and happy.
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[A threat, or a promise? (Yes.)]
Best practice: place it near a window, sunlight during the day, curtains closed at night. The nice thing is, you only need to water it about once a week. Two weeks, if it isn't too hot. So it's alright if you forget.
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He does pull out his relic at the instructions. Swapping it from his metal hand to his fleshy one to write that down in a notes app in the relic itself.] Okay, got that jotted down.
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[This is Leonardo's appointment, still. He has no desire to cut someone off before they're ready.]
I had ONE more thing in mind, but, I've forgotten it, LMAO
save it for later if you remember uwu
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