Book 2: HomeFront

What's A Draft?

 Training was going to start later today. Miwa had told the night before that she will be making an early trip to the bustling marketplace of the nearest village for her groceries. Both Leonardo and Venus were relaxing in Venus' old home. With no TV and keeping away from their phones, they tried to live the day without electronics. At first, it seemed doable, that is, until sheer boredom kicked in. Leonardo lay back on the couch in the living room. The entire space was cleared on the sides of the wall, courtesy of him and Venus. Plastic lay atop the hardwood floor, protecting it from any paint that may dare to stain it. In the middle of the floor, a colorful Venus sat. Green skin was speckled, globbed, or smeared a color that was not her own on her hands, face, and body. Previously, she had purchased plain animal figurines meant to paint upon as a project. In her hands currently, a traditionally scaled horse of orange characteristics was being painted upon.

"Is that one supposed to be Mikey?" Leonardo asked. Before she began, she introduced her idea to him. Having been painting animal figurines for years, she thought it would be really cool to have a family set of her own. 'Why horses?' you ask? Because she loves how their power, beauty, and versatility merely reflect her family's attributes more than any dog. Besides, what's prettier: a painted dog or a painted horse?

"Mm hm." Her lips were sucked into her mouth when she responded, concentrating on the details of it. Venus wasn't half bad. The figure was dark orange at the neck and flank, and then they both evenly blended into a bright orange by the time it reached its stomach. Currently, her brush held the color red as she inscribed the turtle's Japanese caricature on its shoulder.

"Now, I see that these figures look a little different." Venus nodded her head, not taking her eyes off her figure. From the couch, Leonardo reached for the figures that were already painted their model's bandana colors, but have not yet had details painted on them. Good thing they had already dried from hours before otherwise Venus would probably burn down the house. He picked up the one meant to be Donatello and the one to be Raphael in the other. Both were held up on his chest as he studied and compared their features. "See, Donnie's is taller, which makes perfect sense since Raph's is shorter and fatter, but I can also tell" He traced his finger on the nose of horse-Donatello "this one's nose slopes while the other" He traced horse Raphael's "one's is a little cut. You know?"

"The figures are all different horse breeds. I chose each one according to our own attributes." Done with the first detailing of Michelangelo's, Venus set him down gently to dry on a piece of ripped up cardboard. When the horse was standing securely, the female terrapin crawled up to the couch. Her shell leaned on the supporting structure and cushions as she sat on the floor near Leo.

"Donatello," she pointed to the purple figure. "Is a shire, known for its intelligence and willingness to do work. It is also the biggest of the draft breeds."

"What's a draft?" Leo quizzed, quite surprised that her interest and knowledge of horses was something she hasn't shown for the many months she had known them. Venus giggled. In her mind, she believed these were the basics that people would know, but that only meant she was so knowledgeable on the subject. She composed herself to explain with a smile.

"Work horses. They're the ones you see plowing fields or pulling heavy equipment. Since we work like horses, might as well be a draft." She commented. Her arm reached out to grab the Raphael figure from Leonardo's hand. "Raphael is a Suffolk Punch." She took one of its legs between her finger and thumb and swung its large body within them.

"Makes sense." Leo chortled at his own joke. Venus giggled back, knowing far too well that it was a very befitting name for a punch-happy turtle.

"It's a little smaller than a shire, yet what it makes up for it height is its own bulkiness. Michelangelo," a finger pointed at the now drying figure a couple feet away from her outstretched legs. "He's a Clydesdale, and if you've ever seen the Budweiser Clydesdales commercials, you'll know why he is."