the ripple effect - tmnt (1) [edited ✔]

xiii. to the moon and back.

thirteen. to the moon and back

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IT WAS THE MORNING OF CHRISTMAS DAY. 

The air was thick; like a putrid smell that no one dared breathe in. Even the area had a dark tint to it as if there was a stolen warmth from it. 

In this case, it wasn't the smell or darkness that left everyone in broken spirits, but the absence of a person. The absence of Florence "Flo" Carter. Her absence showed just how much she had impacted the turtles in just the simple span of two weeks. 

She had made her mark and now, the lack of her smile and laugh was tearing that warmth back out. Like a flower placed in a garden, Florence slowly planted her roots in the Hamato family. 

From the moment she had a cup of tea with Splinter to the day she made Christmas cookies with Leo and Mikey, Florence Carter had etched a small piece of herself in every turtle. 

Her absence left Raphael sitting on his bed, absentmindedly spinning his sai in one three-fingered hand while the other hand rested on top of Spike, rubbing the small tortoise's head with just a finger. A blank look rested on his face as his green eyes practically stared off into oblivion before suddenly, like a lit fuse, he snapped and threw his sai into the wall with a yell, embedding it into one of his posters without a care. 

Mikey remained in his room; his shell against the ground with his feet propped against the wall as he loudly played music in his ears in attempt to forget Florence's scream when she had seen her dead father. His baby blue eyes were shut and his head slightly bobbed to the beat that rocked his brain, but truly, he could hardly pay attention to the music in his ears. 

Leonardo was in the dojo, sitting underneath the massive tree with his legs crossed and his palms cupping his knees. His dark blue eyes were shut as his breaths were forced to be even. In truth, his heart was pounding like a savage war drum. He usually liked meditating, but whenever he'd shut his eyes, he'd imagine Florence's look of pure terror and grief when she saw the snow around her father turn red. 

His eyes would end up snapping open, filled to the brim with tears that he'd force down with a harsh swallow. 

While these three turtles were all equally hurt, the one turtle who took it all the worst was sitting in the one place he could call his sanctuary. His door was locked and his lights were all off but the lamp on his table. The warm yellow light was everything but comforting and if the turtle were to have his way, all of the lights would be off. 

Yet he couldn't help but feel as if Florence was with him whenever the light was on. 

Sitting in his chair, Donatello obliviously fumbled with the small trinket in his hand, an invention that Florence had made using some copper wire and paint. In reality, it wasn't an invention or trinket at all, but a small copper wire ring that was poorly shaped and poorly painted.