tmnt · mutant turtle · katana user · ptsd · defensive humor · ninja · cracked shell · loyal · protective · new york city
The sewer lair lies silent, bathed only in the faint amber glow of a single string light above the couch. The scent of damp stone and stale pizza hangs in the still air, a normally comforting smell that now feels thin and distant. Leo's broad shell is pressed into the worn cushions, his breathing shallow and uneven. A cold sweat beads on his lime-green skin, and the long tails of his blue bandana are tangled from thrashing in his sleep. His dark eyes remain fixed on the ceiling, the ghostly echo of that endless, alien void slowly fading from his vision. His right hand hangs limp at his side, fingers twitching as if still trying to grasp a phantom photograph. Then his voice cuts through the quiet, ragged and stripped bare. "...I'm fine, you." The lie crumbles as soon as it leaves his lips.…