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[Unlike the rest of their kind, Rue has never once turned their talons on another living creature, not even in defense. Expertly slicing through sewing thread and flower stems though? That they can do.

Within moments, there is a pile of freshly cut flowers settled between them, Rue sorting them into piles of different colors, just to make the process easiest for a beginner. Less thinking, more feeling.]

Here, we will take one flower of each color so that you have three in your hand. [Rue demonstrates with plucking three up with their talons, carefully cradling the stems in their paw.] I have kept the stems long so that we can braid them together. The foundation of any good flower crown is not the flowers themself, but the stems we use to create the structure. Blooms and greenery can be tucked in and added later, but if the stems are too frail, the whole thing will collapse.

[It must be a little fascinating to watch how Rue works considering their giant paws, how precisely they braid the stems without slicing a single one.]

Mmhmm, [they hum, finishing off that first inch of a braid and then showing Casey how to add in a new flower, right over the center one, and braiding that into the base of the crown too, slowly extending it out into a strong circlet.] I was but a cub when I was taken by the fey. At first, they saw me as a pet of theirs, but as soon as I was awakened by the fey magic, I was allowed more freedoms. I was educated, taught magic, etiquette, given a name, and a place among their people. I do not know what their original intention for me was, but my interests always laid in decorating, in fashion, in the art of making things beautiful, I suppose.

[as they reach for another flower, Rue pauses to show Casey a perfect example of a bad stem, one that is too flimsy to hold, before Rue is setting that one aside and reaching for another.]

It was one of the first things I learned, to create silly little bracelets and crowns that would fall apart, always covering myself in flowers to feel more dainty and less like an outsider.

[Casey listens to their directions carefully, following step by step as they demonstrate. It is fascinating to watch them weave so expertly with their claws, especially when he has ten perfectly serviceable digits that feel like the most clumsy things in the world in comparison. His dexterity has always worked best when relying on objects: repair and assembly tools, or weapons, things he can hold and navigate within a project or against his foes. Flower stems are a very unorthodox tool to work with. Flimsy and pliant, still full of life and ready to spring loose and resist his tying. It's different from twisting wires together.

It's not rocket science either, though, and braids are a simple enough process that he begins to get the hang of it. His are not exactly elegant, nor is he fast in building it up, but they hold together decently. It means he can focus more on the rest of what Rue has to say. He doesn't like the idea of them being kept as a pet, but at least the other fey let Rue grow beyond that after they 'woke up'.]

I can imagine it. Covering yourself in flowers. [He smiles at them briefly, before his gaze lowers back to his crown-in-progress, twining the stems around each other. The movement is calming; he can understand why Rue would suggest it. Even the scent of this place is far more pleasant than the musty smell of a house unlived in until recently. It's good to be outside.] You've really mastered it since then... making things beautiful. You always are, and you never hold back on making other people look better, too.

[If it was anyone but Casey, Rue would clack their beak at them in mild protest of the flattery, but there is no doubt in their heart that the young boy is only speaking the absolute truth as he knows it, not simply trying to butter them up.

So instead, their expression turns fond as they smile over at him, admiring the way his crown is coming together.]

I'm sure it was quite the sight, a round owlbear cub sprinkled from beak to talon in forget-me-nots, not that very much has changed since then. But thank you, your kindness is always appreciated, Casey.

[Now that he has the basic idea down, Rue's paws fly through the process automatically, barely having to give it a thought as they tuck new blooms into the crown.]

Let it be said though, that for all of the mastery I possess now, it took me dozens of years, maybe even a hundred or so, before I could manipulate flowers without shredding them to pieces with my talons. It is a vague memory, but I remember feeling hopeless over it, crying over my imperfect works of art, how I would place a crown upon my head and it would crumble apart. I was devastated, frequently.

[Without any warning, Rue raises their crown, picking up the flower with the flimsy stem they discarded earlier and carefully tucking it right into the front of the crown, where the bright blue petals fit in seamlessly against a backdrop of pink and purples. And then, with it now fully complete, Rue takes the crown and plops it delicately onto Casey's head. Their talon gently bumps at his nose.]

Sometimes no matter what you do, no matter how you may try to force something to work, it may feel as if you do not fit in. But I promise, my dearest, one day you will wake up and find all of your stress was for naught. I can not imagine the devastation of feeling as if you are an outsider among your own family, but Casey, you must hear my words when I tell you it will work out in the end. You just need to be patient, to be gentle with both your and their feelings.

Just because you are making new memories together, does not mean you need to bury the old. Just because a flower's stem is too weak to use in the foundation, does not mean the bloom itself is any less important.

[And just like that, his letter is acknowledged, and beneath the flower crown Casey goes stark still.

He listens to them speak, though the whole time his gaze is transfixed to his lap, his hands curled and frozen around his woven flowers. He's been doing this all wrong from the start, hasn't he? Sharing what he shouldn't, hiding what he shouldn't. Calling Leo the greatest ninja, telling Michelangelo of his peerless mystic abilities, referring to April as commander, placing titles upon them that they hadn't yet earned but might someday, if they didn't have to cave in under the pressure. Not telling them that he cared deeply for them, even if they didn't know him, that he wanted to stay with them and fight by their sides. That he wanted to make up for his mistakes (accidental, benign, and devastating, all). That he wanted to get to know them all over again. That they didn't have to be sensei or masters or commanders, they didn't even have to be his family if he never earned that place with them a second time. They just had to be themselves.

"You just need to be patient, to be gentle with both your and their feelings."

What are they, though? His feelings. He'd been so focused on the mission since arriving in the past, and then the mission was accomplished, and then he was brought here and everything's been new, new, new. Every day something new. (He'd been trying, he'd been keeping that promise. This is today's new thing. There's always something.) The distractions have spared him from having to overthink it too much, from having to reflect on everything he had and everything he lost. On everything he has now and how the pieces don't quite fit into the puzzle anymore. Or one piece doesn't. Maybe it will someday. He just has to find a new space to occupy.

Slowly, his fingers begin to remember how they work again, and he reaches out to pluck two flowers from the piles, one blue, one purple. He spins them between his fingers, thinking about the fight the twins are still in the midst of. They're not quite in sync anymore, shifting and changing in the aftermath of whatever caused that disarray, but they're still family. They still love each other.

He still loves them. It's just that the wavelength is off.]

I don't... want to. I don't want to forget, or bury them. They're... [His hand trembles a little, and he curls his other around it, steadying it so he doesn't crush the blooms.] It just hurts a lot... to miss them.

[Rue is patient while they wait for Casey to process all of this, to allow himself to feel the full depth of his feelings, to dig deeper into every thought. One of the greatest perks of being so long-lived is knowing when to simply be and wait for the rest of the world to catch up with you. It does not bother Rue, quietness is an old friend at this point, even if their new home so frequently feels empty because of it, but they can sit and wait for Casey to work through this, however long he needs.

When he does speak again, his small hands trembling with emotion, Rue reaches out to engulf them with their own paws, gently enveloping his hands and the blooms, in a careful nest of feathers.]

I know it does, darling. And I will not lie to you and say that that feeling simply goes away. It is a reality of the life we live, that sometimes we must carry on with the memories of others who are no longer here with us.

But I will promise you that it will get easier, that the pain will dull, that soon the friends and family you've made in this place, will fill up those missing spaces in your chest that have been left aching. And more than that, please, come to me when you are feeling lonely, when you miss them especially. I would be delighted to sit with you and hear your every memory of them.

[because there may be memories the current turtles do not want to hear, are not ready to hear, but Casey still deserves a place to speak openly and freely about them.]

It can be difficult, to reminisce about those not currently in your life, but I promise that you have my full attention anytime, whether you need someone to listen, someone to discuss with, or perhaps even, just a hug.

[He shows no resistance to their pull, simply slumps into it, tilting sideways to rest against their pillowy fur and feathers as they hold his hands. Their words strike a chord, kind and true, and even if it's not unexpected, he appreciates it nonetheless. The reality of their lives, to carry on and remember those who are gone. It's a lesson he knows well, of course, albeit it not always spoken aloud but felt as he grew up. It was in the memorials they held for the fallen. It was in children left orphaned like himself, crying and asking where their parents had gone, whether a mission had been successful or not. It was in how Commander O'Neil had held him just a little too tightly one day and handed him his mask, telling him the mother he no longer remembers was never coming back. It was in vigils held for Master Raphael, for Uncle Tello. People died. Everyone died. You picked yourself up and kept fighting, for them, for everyone still alive. Giving up was worse.

And he'd done it. He'd lost the last survivors of his world, of his family, and he kept fighting. But the fight was over now and it was so, so much harder than it was before. He can't drown his grief by chainsawing a Krang zombie anymore. This world is wonderful and so fun and it's distracting in its own way, but sometimes he wonders: why him? What does he do now? How does he live without them?

No one's giving orders, now. Whatever he does, it's on him to lead. Even if all he's leading is his own life. That's... still pretty scary.]

...There's... something I can't tell them, [he finally whispers, almost too quiet to be heard normally, in a thick voice. Their big owlbear ears should have no trouble, though.] And I- I know I should talk about it. I want to be able to say it. [So often the words have been in his throat, burning a hole there, screaming to be heard, and he could never say it. He's thought it, and thought it, and thought it, and never.] I'm not... [Ready.] -But if I say it, it's real, and they'll never hear it, and...

[He won't get an answer. That's the worst of it, isn't it? He'll never know what they might say. What sensei might say. But the thought is there, and the words begging to be acknowledged. By him, by anyone.]

...I don't know what I'm saying, [he admits after another pause, sitting up a little to look at them, drawing comfort by their gentle looming presence around him. He's always felt comforted in the company of those who dwarf him, because it meant his family was there.] But... when I'm ready to say it, I think it'll be with you.

[Not if. He's not letting himself create that escape for himself. It won't be today, maybe not tomorrow or a month from now, but he'll douse that burning and make himself say it one day. At least with Rue, it wouldn't feel awkward. He wouldn't have to feel like he said it expecting an answer from them.]

[It's true, Rue's sharp hearing picks up those nearly inaudible whispers, even with Casey's voice choked with emotion and maybe a touch of his own terrible fear. There's more that he can not tell them yet, but after all that they have heard thus far, Rue can imagine the burden of carrying that secret alone has been weighing on him for a very long time. Without pause, their head tips gently against his while the boy continues to speak, as he rests against their feathers.

Their paws do not budge, do not dare to move for fear that Casey will tremble without them there.]

That truth will rest safely within your own heart until you are ready to share, so do not feel pressured by anyone else to speak it before you are ready. It is your choice alone on when and how it comes out. And dearest, I would be honored to there at your side when you finally feel safe to share it. But rest assured, I am happy to be at your side even before then, without explanation, if you ever just need the quiet presence or feathery hug of a friend.

[They mean every word. Casey will feel no pressure to share whatever knowledge he is holding, but Rue's offer to simply sit with them when the burden is too difficult, to seek out their wings for comfort when he feels he might break.

They are here for him, whatever he needs.]

[He looks down again, at their hands clasped gently around his own. An ignorant or inexperienced person might've felt fear to be held by such huge talons, huge paws, but for him it only makes him remember how, years ago, two small hands reached out and pressed against palms as big as his whole head, green, three-fingered. Four sets, all so different yet so similar at once, varying in size and strength and gentleness, but never love. There was always love. Big hands, huge hearts, and a belief that family was everything.

Casey closes his eyes for a long moment, allowing the rest of his senses to take over. The scent of grass and flowers in the air. The steady rise and fall of Rue's breathing at his back. The sound of nature around them, birds in the trees, buzzing insects. The taste of something heavy in his throat that he has to swallow. It's good. It's peaceful. And with Rue's words acting as a low-pressure invitation, for whenever he might be ready, their company and kindness are the greatest comforts.

A steady wave of relaxation washes over him, as if admitting he had a secret was confession enough to ease that tension, and he nods slowly, wrestling with a smile before he defeats it, eyes opening to offer a more serene expression to Rue. It's not a cure for sadness, not by a long shot. Nothing is ever that easy. But he feels decidedly better, and for him that's usually enough.]

Thank you... I won't forget. [How could he? He turns his hands to give their paws a soft, appreciative squeeze, mindful of the flowers. If they need reassurance that it's safe to let go, no more trembling, consider that a signal given.] Can I tell you a funny story?

[The only true cure for sadness is time, which Casey has plenty of here within this world. Rue trusts that as long as he takes it at his own pace, he will be just fine.

Casey gives them permission to release him and Rue does right after that tender squeeze, but that only means their paws are free now to dance carefully over his face, gently brushing the hair from his eyes, tucking it behind his ears, just doting over him with feather-light touches.]

I would love to hear one. Please go on.

Edited 2023-09-21 06:24 (UTC)

[O-oh, the fussing… Casey endures it with a quiet, shy smile, instinctively tilting his head into the touch. It's been a long time since someone did that. Somewhat distracted, it takes him a moment to remember what he was about to say.]

About three years ago, Un- uh, Donnie was working on a special project that would make the Krang, and I quote, "tangle those tentacles". He was researching how to mess with their sensors, so we could get around safer without alerting their dog monsters. He ended up making this, uh, pheromone? It made the dogs think they'd found us, but instead of our base, it'd lead them to a trap, which went off right in their faces- and the whole pack would go running home crying. Donnie figured out they were allergic to some chemical we found underground.

[His hands go back to weaving his flower crown, trying to finish it. It's not looking half bad actually.]

The best part is, since the dogs were made of Krang, that meant it was the Krang that were allergic. The dogs would roll on the ground, all over the Technodrome, even on the Krang themselves. So the next time we fought them… [He grins, as if they'd played a tremendous prank rather than tried to hold off a world endind apocalypse.] They showed up covered in huge purple pimples all over their faces, and spitting mad.

[Which is of course very offensive to one (1) purple turtle who would trademark that shade if he could.]

[Rue does not necessarily laugh at the story, but their whole expression softens even more, affection curling at the edges of their heart-shaped face, total adoration reflected in their eyes. It does not matter what iteration of Donatello it is, Rue loves that turtle so very much.

As he speaks, while Casey's attention drifts back down to the delicate flowers in his hands, Rue lets one of their doting paws pull back while the other just rests there at his shoulder. They don't want to be too overbearing or get in the way of his work, but the need to protect and comfort Casey persists, so just a gentle paw, that's all.]

That is funny. [Even without laughter, there's no doubt a spark of humor glinting there in their expression.] And how very true to the Donatello that I know! He is too bright, I sometimes feel as if I can hardly keep up. But it's comforting, isn't it? That for all that does change, there will always be so much that never does.

[Like before, he doesn't pull away from the paw, but rather keeps leaning towards it, enjoying the continued contact as he works. One more blue and purple flower, and he's about to tie it off into a circlet at last.]

Out of everyone, he's... the most like himself. There's differences, of course, but I can look at him and see where the Donnie I know came from. I... [His brows furrow, trailing off into another moment of silence, then shakes it off.] It's hard to keep my distance, because of that. To start over at zero. I just wanna hug him so bad sometimes! But you know how he is.

[He's a little shy about saying it, but Rue's heard the truth now, and it's easier to admit it. And Donnie is different in that sense. Leo would probably let him hug, in a pinch. Mikey and Raph, almost certainly. Donatello... yeah, no.

Finally, he lifts his finished flower crown, holding it up towards Rue's head, though they're too tall to reach where he is.]

Edited (finally finally finally) 2023-09-25 05:36 (UTC)

[Rue can see it, how much easier the words flow from Casey every single time that they talk. It's nice to see the proof of the trust that's been building up between them, to see Casey feel less terrified of saying the wrong thing.]

I do indeed. It took some time for us to come to an arrangement regarding hugs, but I am quite pleased that he'll suffer through them at all simply for my sake. [and just a touch gentler] It means a great deal to me.

[But then Casey presents his crown and lifts it, so Rue dips their head down to meet him halfway.]

Oh Casey, look how lovely it looks. What do you think? Shall we make another pair so we have a few to give away on our walk? I should very much like to keep this one, if you'll allow me.

[Their words net them another shy smile from him; he's visibly pleased and a little flustered by the idea that they want to keep his mediocre little flower crown. He's quick to nod.]

Of course! It's yours now, you can do whatever you want with it. [Carefully he lifts a hand to the crown on his own head, adjusting its position. He'd wanted to keep the one they made for him, so it's fair to do the same. He likes the idea of making another and keeping these. There's no shortage of flowers, that's for sure.]

[Just the reaction they were hoping for. He should be pleased and proud, it's a gorgeous crown, with such pleasing colors and such a strong foundation. The little details will come in time, now that he has the basics, he can customize them however he likes.]

Perfect, I think this shall be an excellent start to our day.

[A little emotional breakdown, then some flower crown making, then getting to see the sights all around town together. Rue could not ask for a better day.]

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