Processing, processing- it was a fine line between shutting down and waking up. The only thing that had been keeping him from staving off whatever sort of brumation mutant turtles might succumb ever since he'd gotten pulled into this weird alter-Temba was to keep on the move, but it hadn't gotten any warmer, and resting had just seemed the more natural response than anything else. Somewhere in the back of his mind, his teenager self wanted to rebel.
The bloom of heat behind them was almost welcoming, prompting a weak hand to reach out after it, but it was getting farther away again, and he retracted it back to where he could try grasping onto Tony's shirt. Donnie opened his eyes (when had he closed them?), the angry screeching behind them demanding attention. It took so much effort to claw himself out of that mental darkness, and while reality was not inviting in the least, the more he managed to focus on, the better grip he had on consciousness. That all too familiar, sharp, coppery scent, the staccato breaths that likely matched Tony's rapid pulse, breaking glass-
He sucked in a ragged breath of air as though he'd just come up from under water, pushing weakly against Tony as he dragged his head up. His movements were stiff, he felt like his blood had frozen in his veins but it didn't stop him from trying to get his feet under him, barely able to feel the floor beneath his toes. For the most part he was still relying on Tony heavily for support as he brought his staff around, his fingers having more or less locked around it.
That feeling when just waking from a nap? This was it but several times worse because you had absolutely no idea what was going on and were reacting blearily out of panic because suddenly there are things with teeth flying at you. Turns out, when one was feeling half-frozen and still trying to wake up, they aren't the best at using a staff to its full potential. High-grade titanium was still pretty effective when it hit something, but it was also at the moment about the same as waving a stick at mosquitos.
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The bloom of heat behind them was almost welcoming, prompting a weak hand to reach out after it, but it was getting farther away again, and he retracted it back to where he could try grasping onto Tony's shirt. Donnie opened his eyes (when had he closed them?), the angry screeching behind them demanding attention. It took so much effort to claw himself out of that mental darkness, and while reality was not inviting in the least, the more he managed to focus on, the better grip he had on consciousness. That all too familiar, sharp, coppery scent, the staccato breaths that likely matched Tony's rapid pulse, breaking glass-
He sucked in a ragged breath of air as though he'd just come up from under water, pushing weakly against Tony as he dragged his head up. His movements were stiff, he felt like his blood had frozen in his veins but it didn't stop him from trying to get his feet under him, barely able to feel the floor beneath his toes. For the most part he was still relying on Tony heavily for support as he brought his staff around, his fingers having more or less locked around it.
That feeling when just waking from a nap? This was it but several times worse because you had absolutely no idea what was going on and were reacting blearily out of panic because suddenly there are things with teeth flying at you. Turns out, when one was feeling half-frozen and still trying to wake up, they aren't the best at using a staff to its full potential. High-grade titanium was still pretty effective when it hit something, but it was also at the moment about the same as waving a stick at mosquitos.