Report 012 [Action (especially for fellow House 55 people)/Voice] | Backdated somewhat to morning
[Sometime early in the morning - barely out of the night hours - Robert finds himself awakening in a terror sweat. For a hazy moment he has no idea who he is, or where, or why - and then the memories of everything - the last week, what he's done, what those masks made him say, what people said, what he thought - as well as everything about himself hits him, all at once.
It takes everything he has to sit there and force himself to breathe, to catalogue the information in his brain. Analyze it. Confirm the data. Record it so you don't forget.
His nanocomputer. He needs his nanocomputer. And more importantly, he needs Don - his lover, whom he had entirely forgotten. He'd forgotten everybody and everything that he loved, everybody and everything he knew was really him...
He pulls himself out of the brush he must've fallen asleep in, barely sparing a glance at the glinting silvery mask lying nearby in the leaves, before pulling himself slowly along the path towards House 55. Home. His real home. Not the sewers, despite how much something primal in him, that was in him and is now yawning emptily, aches at that thought.
He stumbles in the door, still dirty, still wearing the tattered river-washed clothes that Audubon was wearing (he didn't feel safe going in the buildings long), and fights the urge to cry as he calls out for the Hamatos.]
D-Don...? ... L-Leonardo...?
[Later on, after the inevitable trauma that will happen, and possibly after Robert gets himself cleaned up enough to be presentable, his voice sounds throughout the journal system - unfiltered, because he can't bother to conceal it and he can't bring himself to muster up any more emotion right now, other than emptiness.]
For all those who would be a-affected... Master Splinter has been... s-sent home.
...
Additionally, I... I wish to apologize to... t-to anybody who encountered me as the sapient self-identified as "Audubon". That was... a-an experiment. I apologize, s-sincerely, for... for how I treated you all, and... and the m-misconceptions I had.
...
[There's a quiet pause here, before Robert adds, bitterly:]
... I am c-certain my insanity was... the least of your w-worries during this period, however. [And by that he clearly means the masks, and the moon's strange behaviour. That unsettling celestial body is getting closer and closer, and at this point, it seems increasingly likely that they're all going to die.
Perhaps he'll run a few calculations later, when he can bring himself to feel something other than crushing emptiness - but for now, he simply ends the transmission.]
It takes everything he has to sit there and force himself to breathe, to catalogue the information in his brain. Analyze it. Confirm the data. Record it so you don't forget.
His nanocomputer. He needs his nanocomputer. And more importantly, he needs Don - his lover, whom he had entirely forgotten. He'd forgotten everybody and everything that he loved, everybody and everything he knew was really him...
He pulls himself out of the brush he must've fallen asleep in, barely sparing a glance at the glinting silvery mask lying nearby in the leaves, before pulling himself slowly along the path towards House 55. Home. His real home. Not the sewers, despite how much something primal in him, that was in him and is now yawning emptily, aches at that thought.
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He stumbles in the door, still dirty, still wearing the tattered river-washed clothes that Audubon was wearing (he didn't feel safe going in the buildings long), and fights the urge to cry as he calls out for the Hamatos.]
D-Don...? ... L-Leonardo...?
[Later on, after the inevitable trauma that will happen, and possibly after Robert gets himself cleaned up enough to be presentable, his voice sounds throughout the journal system - unfiltered, because he can't bother to conceal it and he can't bring himself to muster up any more emotion right now, other than emptiness.]
For all those who would be a-affected... Master Splinter has been... s-sent home.
...
Additionally, I... I wish to apologize to... t-to anybody who encountered me as the sapient self-identified as "Audubon". That was... a-an experiment. I apologize, s-sincerely, for... for how I treated you all, and... and the m-misconceptions I had.
...
[There's a quiet pause here, before Robert adds, bitterly:]
... I am c-certain my insanity was... the least of your w-worries during this period, however. [And by that he clearly means the masks, and the moon's strange behaviour. That unsettling celestial body is getting closer and closer, and at this point, it seems increasingly likely that they're all going to die.
Perhaps he'll run a few calculations later, when he can bring himself to feel something other than crushing emptiness - but for now, he simply ends the transmission.]