The X-men run missions and work together with the NYPD, striving to maintain a peaceful balance between humans and mutants. When it comes to a fight, they won't back down from protecting those who need their help.
Haven presents itself as a humanitarian organization for activists, leaders, and high society, yet mutants are the secret leaders working to protect and serve their kind. Behind the scenes they bring their goals into reality.
From the time when mutants became known to the world, SUPER was founded as a black-ops division of the CIA in an attempt to classify, observe, and learn more about this new and rising threat.
The Syndicate works to help bring mutantkind to the forefront of the world. They work from the shadows, a beacon of hope for mutants, but a bane to mankind. With their guiding hand, humanity will finally find extinction.
Since the existence of mutants was first revealed in the nineties, the world has become a changed place. Whether they're genetic misfits or the next stage in humanity's evolution, there's no denying their growing numbers, especially in hubs like New York City. The NYPD has a division devoted to mutant related crimes. Super-powered vigilantes help to maintain the peace. Those who style themselves as Homo Superior work to tear society apart for rebuilding in their own image.
MRO is an intermediate to advanced writing level original character, original plot X-Men RPG. We've been open and active since October of 2005. You can play as a mutant, human, or Adapted— one of the rare humans who nullify mutant powers by their very existence. Goodies, baddies, and neutrals are all welcome.
Short Term Plots:Are They Coming for You?
There have been whispers on the streets lately of a boogeyman... mutant and humans, young and old, all have been targets of trafficking.
The Fountain of Youth
A chemical serum has been released that's shaving a few years off of the population. In some cases, found to be temporary, and in others...?
MRO MOVES WITH CURRENT TIME: What month and year it is now in real life, it's the same for MRO, too.
Fuegogrande: "Fuegogrande" player of The Ranger, Ion, Rhia, and Null
Neopolitan: "Aly" player of Rebecca Grey, Stephanie Graves, Marisol Cervantes, Vanessa Bookman, Chrysanthemum Van Hart, Sabine Sang, Eupraxia
Ongoing Plots
Magic and Mystics
After the events of the 2020 Harvest Moon and the following Winter Solstice, magic has started manifesting in the MROvere! With the efforts of the Welldrinker Cult, people are being converted into Mystics, a species of people genetically disposed to be great conduits for magical energy.
The Welldrinker Cult
A shadowy group is gaining power, drawing in people who are curious, vulnerable, or malicious, and turning them into Mystics. They are recruiting people into their ranks to spread the influence of magic in the world, but for what end goal?
Are They Coming for You?
There have been whispers on the streets lately of a boogeyman... mutant and humans, young and old, all have been targets of trafficking.
Adapteds
What if the human race began to adapt to the mutant threat? What if the human race changed ever so subtly... without the x-gene.
Atlanteans
The lost city of Atlantis has been found! Refugees from this undersea mutant dystopia have started to filter in to New York as citizens and businessfolk. You may make one as a player character of run into one on the street.
Got a plot in mind?
MRO plots are player-created the Mods facilitate and organize the big ones, but we get the ideas from you. Do you have a plot in mind, and want to know whether it needs Mod approval? Check out our plot guidelines.
Her secret and forbidden witchcraft began. Just after a satanic ritual. Breakfast. Curtains closed. Barred door. Although no one was watching, she was feeling extremely dirty. With a thick layer of black. Heavy as metal. She felt its weight on her shoulders, yet it was not a physical dirt, but mental. She was cursed. But at the same time curious. Especially curious. A morbid curiosity urged her to use her powers, despite all possible evilness hidden behind it. That diabolical origin drew her closer. It seduced her.
Among its many shoes, was buried her mysterious little box. Full of very small objects of sentimental value. It was a box. Simply. Also a time machine. When she opening it, she was able to travel at different moments of her life through small memories. Small time machines within a larger machine. With a look full of nostalgia she took a button from the box. It was big. Dark. It looked black. Actually, it was a very dark blue. She smiled. It belonged to a fur coat of her mother. Her favorite. She had wore it a day she was alone, and inadvertently the button felt. She never said anything. The button was replaced. But she kept that little memento of her childish adventure.
Her witchcraft was not in the ability to go back in time, or to see her memories like a movie. No, but that magical ritual through her memories calmed her. She liked that feeling of nostalgia. And every time she opened that box, she saw a different object. Always a different flashback. All the memories in the box had their chance. With a mixture of sadness and joy, she place the button in its place. Very carefully. Although the ritual had begun, she was still on phase one. Secure the perimeter. Stealthily, she checked with her deep black eyes that the door was locked and the curtains closed. Her little world was sheltered. Nobody could see her. Celeste was invisible.
The dress and the teddy bear were the proof. She could repeat it. Celeste was sitting in the middle of the room. Cross-legged. She was surrounded by several sheets of paper, a large piece of cloth (Probably a very old blanket she could not remember) and a simple but beautiful gold ring. Fearful, but excited, she extended her index finger to the ring. She kept it hovering around without touching it, mentally recalling the steps she used on the dress. Then she touched the ring with the tip of her nail. As expected, nothing happened. She fixed her eyes on the golden object. Thinking with intensity, trying to concentrate all her thoughts in a single pulse. "Gold" Nothing. Celeste sighed complaining and concentrated again. Another pulse. "Golden" And this time the word put the magic in action. Like a living creature responding to her orders, the color was dragged slowly to her nail. Like a magnet. The slick of golden climbed in a triumphant march. Enjoying it. Savoring its brief moment of freedom. The color was no longer tied to the object. Unfortunately the show did not last long. As the colored exodus ended, Celeste saw the gold become more and more pale, until what she was watching was just a blurred dull gray. The ring looked like stone. Dead. Without a hint of brightness. Her nail looked gray too, but it conserved some color in it. A gray scale that the ring no longer possessed. It was easy to guess her nail was painted with a bright color.
Then she took a sheet of paper and gently pressed her fingernail on the spotless surface. Her thoughts focused one more time. A single word. "Golden" One concept that included both the color and texture, even when neither one was related. Now the golden began to slide. Gently. Camouflaged before her selectively monochromatic gaze. In a steady motion. It almost looked like ink. Celeste knew that was not true. It was magic. Her magic. With every inch of paper covered with gold, the spot became more colorful. For every centimeter, she needed more time in which every thought must be redirected to maintain a steady pulse. A constant visualization of color. The concentration required was overwhelming. But she managed to stay strong until the paper shone in golden. It looked like gold. It was a great optical illusion. It was still a sheet of paper to the touch.
How to return the ring to its normal color without losing her new color? She pondered the question in silence. Letting her mind run free. She no longer needed focus, she needed an idea. Without the annoying limitation, her mind soon filled with a thousand thoughts. Most were not even related to the question. Debit cards. Clothes. Shoes. Music. Horses. That handsome boy in school... The longer she waited after the mental formulation of the question, the less these answers were related to the topic. Celeste lost her concentration. But she felt relaxed. That disorder was relaxing after thinking so hard. She even found a beautiful symphony to hum. She knew it by heart. Her fingers began to play instinctively, on a invisible keyboard. A silent concert. Just for her enjoyment.
After her break, two ideas seemed most logical. Logic? Her witchcraft did not get along very well with logic. At least she did not understand how it happened. Was it on her nails? Was it a mental process? Or a mixture of both? She did not know. Shaking her head, she left her questions aside to re-focus on the two new possibilities. One idea was a little more risky than the other. She wanted to try the first one. Which promised a higher success rate. Gently, she grabbed the golden paper as the golden fleece itself. It was a treasure. She study it thoughtfully, the brightness and color. She was stunned by her own work. It looked like a really thin sheet made of gold. Fragile. Recalling the wise words that his grandfather used to wear, she teared a large piece of the paper. "He who dares, wins." To her surprise the magically painted color did not disappear. Now she had two independent pieces of the same color. So far the first theory seemed correct. With much excitement and anticipation, she repeated the process of copying, storing and pasting in reverse. Taking the color of one of the two halves. A big smile formed on her face. A triumphant smile. It worked. Her beloved ring was beautiful once again shinning with its original polished texture, while she still had another sample to use in any way she wanted. Celeste was ready to duplicate colors.
She yawned, and stretched. Her hands high, trying to touch the heaven. Shaking her head at the same time. Left first, right after. Yawning again, trying to shake off the sleepiness that assaulted her. She was not tired, but the warmth of the room and the constant caress of the sunlight that filtered through the window, invited her to sleep again. She declined the offer with great courtesy and left her room to get something to eat. Although the breakfast was hearty and delicious, with a great variety. Celeste was a little hungry.She suspected that the use of her powers stole her energy slowly. Yet she still retained her victorious smile. Once in the kitchen, she stole home-baked biscuits, a slice of lemon pie and a glass of orange juice. Then quietly returned to her room. Barefoot. She take a sip of juice. While analyzing the new possibilities arising from her last discovery. With an feigned objectivity. Nodding or shaking her head in denial.
Some of her previous fear vanished temporarily with her little travel through time. The box itself was a precious gift from her mother. Made by her own hands. It remind her of a time when her mother was closer to her. In order to increase its sentimental value, Celeste placed inside all her personal treasures. The box that contained her small objects were sometimes a bunch of sacred amulets. These were responsible for shrinking her demons, with a radiating a calming light that reduced even the most colossal shadow. A small glimpse into the box, and her concerns faded. It had been like that for a long time. The box was always a constant in her ever-changing world. Until the fateful day she discovered her powers. And with them came a temptation impossible to avoid. Then came her greatest fears. She was afraid of being rejected, condemned as all the mutants. Labeled. Not that she was one of them... Its discovery was revolutionary. Witchcraft or mutation, she no longer had to worry about leaving evidence. She must not fear the gray objects, by-products of her magic. Never again. She would not leave an object in that gray state without life.
Again he was in his room. Sitting in the center of the semicircle formed by the sheets of paper and fabric. To the crescent moon of objects, now were added the glass of juice, a plate of biscuits and a delicious slice of lemon pie. Everything at her reach. She took one cookie studded with chocolate chips. Then bit the half of it. She took a long sip of refreshing juice. Energizing. And finished the cookie. Then prepared the objects in front of her. One of the sheets of white paper and the golden one. Next to each other. It was time to try her second idea. Using her index finger, she gently touched the golden paper with her nail. Right in the middle. Nothing happened. No chain reaction unleashed the apocalypse. She continued. Once again, she forced all her thoughts to bend to her will. Ordering them to join in the mental formulation of a single word. "Golden" The obedient substance adhered to her nail, rising lazily. The process was amazing, but after so many times it was becoming routine. However, this time for the first time, Celeste interrupted the process. The result was surprising. She recovered the ability to see the gold immediately. The color that was already in her nail magically vanished. Everything returned to normal, except for the paper. It was displaying a large circle of that odious dead gray where the "substance" had moved. To steal a color, she must complete the process...
Celeste looked at the gray circle with disdain. It was surrounded by gold. The contrast was amazing, yet sad. The brightness texture was overshadowed by the sadness of the gray. She glared at that boring circle. Then she silent protested at the refusal of "Mr. Gray" to go away. She hated that color. But she hated even more the fact that she was wrong. The gray substances were not gone, there was no way to get rid of them. She had come to believe she had found the answer. But no, she was wrong. No matter what, there always will be a gray object as a by product. At least now, she knew how to choose the victim. As she discovered in her previous experiment, it was easy to make the original object recover its initial state. But the object intended to contain and duplicate the color, would always end with a fragment completely gray. In this case, one half of the sheet of paper. She was frustrated. All her might redirected to contain her tears.. Those damn gray objects were appearing everywhere. Nothing she did was going to make them vanish.
The girl let out her frustration with a long, loud sigh. "Just a mistake." She said to herself. As she dropped the air in a another sonorous sigh. Then she continued breathing slowly with the intention to calm down. It was not enough... She took the last sip of juice and another cookie. And when she felt the situation and her emotions were back under her control, she took one more cookie. As a reward. She swallowed it in two ferocious bites. The poor cookie was crushed without mercy. Defeated, but full of decision, she stole the golden surrounding that creepy gray circle. As the color moved close to her, the circle seemed to grow, bigger and bigger. She felt that growing spot was going to devour her fingernail. But for her relief, every moving color stopped at the end of the extraction. The entire sheet had the same color. Or rather, no color at all. Since she was sure that gray meant death. The absence of life. The absence of color. It was the same. The circle was gone, the lack of color was complete and unquestionable. The paper sheet was dead. She took a new sheet of paper. White. Without a single stain. With nothing in it. Perfectly clean. Her next victim. When thinking about how it would end, she almost felt sorry for the poor inanimate object. A wise voice told her what to do. "You must break some eggs to make an omelet." Her golden nail touched the paper and then began the process of pasting. When the girl achieved a circle of considerable size, she lifted her nail, immediately interrupting the process. Again her vision of that particular color returned, the remaining color in her nail disappeared. Just as in the previous experiment. Only this time, the circle was painted with gold.
Her wild chant started the complex magic process. The same word was repeated over and over. This time, the target was the golden circle. The girl managed to concentrate all her thoughts into one. Almost without effort. That was the easy part. Keeping them fixed on the same concept as the process lasted, was harder. Other thoughts always tried to steal the role of the main actor. They were simple thoughts of her daily life trying with all their might to oppose to the intellectual monopoly imposed by her. Every time a new thought appeared, she had to concentrate more strongly on the color in question. It was very stressful. Fortunately, she was working with small objects and the process did not last too long. She knew she was not ready for large objects. Once the shiny gold was stored in her nail, She noted with disappointment a new gray circle. It was absurd. All ended in one of those gray circles. Filled with rage, she stabbed the unashamed circle with her nail as a golden spear. The paper sank under its weight, wrinkling in all directions. Creating long branches with a single point in common. Defiantly, she commanded the pasting process to start without any care for the mistreated paper sheet. Before her astonished eyes, the sheet was not completely eaten by the golden, the progress of the living substance was stopped at the edge of the circle. Excellent, when she thought that was dominating her magic, a new equation came into play. Apparently she could only cover one color at a time ...
Annoyed, she left for another break. The silent semi-circle was still there, as when it was when she left for a second breakfast. From the comfort of her bed, her things looked like a smile. Smile that mocked her attempts to understand her magic. Smile that mocked her rejection to the gray circles. She was tempted to disarm the provocative smile, but did not. The girl just lay in bed, trying not to think about anything. Such concentration was causing her a growing headache. It was just the beginning, but she felt pangs of increasing intensity on the sides of her head. As if someone was squeezing her skull with inhuman force. As an orange, she thought. When she just finished her lemon pie, she fell asleep. Her arms still at the side of her small body. On one side, very close to her, the dish with small crumbs.
She slept a few hours. A short nap filled with concerns. She dreamed with gray circles. In her dream the circles were everywhere. She was walking through Central Park, strangely there was no one there. No vagabonds, or police, or couples enjoying the beautiful day. Yes, the day was beautiful. The sun was shining in the sky. A clear sky without a cloud. Completely blue. Suddenly, her feet were frozen. She tried to go a step further. She could not move. She also wanted to scream, not a single sound came from her mouth. Celeste was trapped. When she finally looked down to see what was imprisoning her feet... with horror she saw a perfect circle sucking her. The circle was completely gray, a gelatinous substance. Viscose. Her feet were stuck in that thing and she was sinking. The girl could not leave. She struggle for hours to get rid of that deadly trap. Although she knew that was impossible, that thing seemed to be bottomless. She would slowly sink forever. When, despite all odds she reached one of the banks, another new horror surprised her. The bright golden disc that was the sun, transformed into a gray circle of the same substance. Large gelatinous drops began to fall from the sun. Desperate, she began to run. The drops fell closer to her. And every drop shifted into a man made of the same substance. Each had different characteristics, different clothes. These features were slightly marked, as if they were men of clay. Also, as if everyone had a collective mind, they began to haunt her. They moved quickly. Relentless. Not a hint of stress on them. She was getting tired. When she could not run more, a big gray blob fell from the sun. Just above her. A moment later a man was trying to bite her neck. Celeste dodged his bites several times, until finally, cold and gray teeth fell on her soft neck.
Celeste woke up at that very moment, still struggling with the gray man. Sweat ran down her face, falling in great drops from her forehead to her chin. She was still pushing the imaginary man. Finding no resistance she opened her eyes, to her surprise he saw that she was alone in the room. Relieved but still in panic from the frightening dream, she analyzed the room with quick glances. When she finally decided everything was safe, she left her bed ready to take off all that sweat. Her hot bath ended just in time for lunch. It was the second time that Peter knocked at her door. Instead of getting her lunch there as she did often, she decided she wanted to eat in the kitchen with her bodyguards and her driver. In a gesture of thanks, she said. Hiding her true intentions. Actually, she wanted to be with someone else. Celeste did not say a word throughout the lunch. Max was commissioned to fill the void left by her. As there was not a single moment of uncomfortable silence. And though his jokes and comments were not very funny, Peter continued the conversation. Malcolm did not say a word. He was new, and still did not feel comfortable with his coworkers.
After lunch, she walked slowly to her room. She really did not want to be alone, so she delayed the time to leave as much as she could. Eventually everyone left the kitchen with bows and apologies, ready to return to their daily tasks. Unfortunately, everyone had something to do except for her. Even her best friend had left New York without her. Probably for shopping ... Lunch and nap took care of her growing headache, so she was ready to return to her witchcraft. What else could she do?
She sat down again in her usual place, from there she had an excellent view of the door. That was good. And a nice view of her bed too. That was bad. The vision of the bed reminded her of the horrible nightmare. Everything. The sun was stripped of her beauty, gray men chased her... that horrible lifeless gray everywhere. These circles were certainly nothing but a silent accusation. She almost could heard their voice. Witch, they said at times. Others circles simply said: mutant. So she looked away from the bed as fast as she could, trying to self imposed courage, she concentrated on the sheet of paper with the golden circle in the middle. It looked like an eye. It looked like the sun. She contemplate it for a while, unsure, she knew that circle was going to become the portal to their nightmares. A gray circle. She convinced herself that nothing was going to lost its color unless she wanted. And she repeated quietly, that she was in control.
This time, she took another clean sheet, completely white. Sharpie in hand. She looked at the sheet a few seconds, undecided. Until finally in a moment of decision she made several quick strokes that ended in a circle in the middle of the sheet. The circle was not perfect, as the ones produced by her witchcraft, it was a product of human imperfections. Lack of skill that would be corrected. She thought. It looked like an oval. Celeste knew what was going to be the result, but she did anyway. Once she finished extracting all the gold of the circle, it was completely gray. Another gray circle trying to betray her. The girl was tired of circles so instead of starting from the center of the sheet, her fingernail rested on the bottom edge. The color began to spread from there evenly and orderly. One half of the golden circle projected from her nail, soon found the end of the sheet. Pausing. In contrast, the other half continued expanding. As she expected, the wave of "ink" evaded the black outline of the circle, surrounding and rejoining once it circumvented the obstacle. The paper was painted gold, the center of the circle was white, and the outside of the circle was black with the blood of the Sharpie. The outline of the circle seemed to be a barrier, a wall that could not be pass. Each color could only cover one color at a time.
This time, just for fun, she took one of the sheets of paper and deftly drew a long sinuous maze of black walls. It started with a single corridor but after a pair of twists and turns it split into two independent paths. Simultaneously, both corridors were transformed into two more. Often, as the heads of the mythical hydra, new passages were created for each severed "neck". The tunnels had thousands of different angles as the corridors twisted and straightened in endless laps. Every corner seemed even more devious than the last one until the point that even her creator did not know the right path. The maze started at the lower edge of the sheet, but just in case, to avoid any leakage she took care to emphasize the edges. Skilled black lines formed a complicated array of tunnels that increased in number and size from the first original tunnel to the three other edges of the paper sheet. Superior. Right. Left.
With renewed energy after the hearty lunch and refreshing nap, her concentration was impeccable. Her mind quickly created shields and other defenses to stop the invaders thoughts. In order to produce only one thought echoing in her head. "Golden" The word emerged from her lips in a small whisper to help her mind to focus only on that word. And at the Queen's orders, a large circle of gold escaped from the sheet of her previous experiment. Another gray circle occupied its place. With a slight tingle of anticipation, she slipped her fingernail on the fragile paper and hovered to the entrance of the maze. Once she located the exact point where to start, her nail anchored there and she started to sing softly, encouraging her mind to do the same and return to the absolute concentration she needed. The gold of her fingernail slid easily into the maze and dutifully moved respecting the black walls, following its course at every turn. It was trained as a mouse to find cheese. Only that the liquid gold that moved through the maze did not have a mind on its own. If it did have a mind, Celeste did not want to know what that thing wanted. And even when her eyes were under that veil of selective blindness where the golden was only of a light gray, the progress of the river of gold was admirable. It never doubted. Just moved. And when it came to a fork, it just divided and continued. Without stopping at any time. Gradually the golden maze was filled with brightness, until all the corners were completely painted.
Her two previous experiments clearly showed that the stored color could only overwrite one color at a time. A color for each dose. No matter the extent or the intricacy of the figure, if it had a different color with enough space to move, it would move. What if ...? She took the piece of cloth and spread it on the floor in front of her. Then, the girl put three new pieces of paper over the fabric, each separated by one centimeter. Beginning in the first blank page, she drew two parallel lines that passed through sheets and fabrics alike. At both ends she drew an additional line, so that the color would remain locked up there. In these long black walls. One more time, she copied the golden with the intention that the pasted golden would moved to cover the entire road. Her singing began, a small plea or an order .. maybe both. Whispering. The golden jumped form her nail to the paper. Some grew up stopping at the end, blocked by the line connecting the other two parallel lines. The rest of it projected in a perfect radius away from her nail. Unstoppable... it crawled through the paper until it reached the edge where it stopped suddenly. The golden did not want to go any step further, as if it were the end of the world. Although upset, she could not help smiling. She was imagining tiny little voices. There was nothing ahead, said an imaginary voice. Impossible to go on, said another voice. As if the color was a small boat full of sailors. A frightened crew. She thought.
Despite her smile, the girl felt like her little spells were passing the bill already. She needed a break soon. Still, she took another piece of paper, the last one left. And drew two imperfect circles side by side. Both circles provided two small empty spaces inside of them. She cut a small piece of a paper that still had golden color and stolen it, leaving another new piece of paper in gray. And then again copied a little more, from another segment of golden paper from the same sheet. But this time she took it with her left index finger. Without waiting for an encouraging result, her gold nails were positioned at the center of each circle. Her left hand on the left circle. Her right hand on the right circle. With her fingernails in contact with the paper, she began her prayer. Although she repeated the words over and over to be absolutely sure she was concentrated, nothing happen. It was exactly what she expected, but she felt very insecure and frightened, Had she lost her powers? She quickly raised her right hand, leaving only her left index finger in the center of its circle. This time, while repeating the name of the color and achieving an absolute concentration, the golden began to leave her nail as it had done before... Relieved, Celeste concluded that she could only copy or paste one color at a time and only from one source at a time.
The feeling was contradictory. The greatest contradictions in her life. Even bigger than the love and hatred she felt for her father. And bigger than the indifference she felt for her beloved mother. She just started to explore her powers to determine its nature and limits, driven by a malign fascination. Although at first she feared these small acts against God, at the very moment when her power "failed", her heart stopped. Metaphorically. It happened for about a minute. A fatal minute she felt a part of her soul had died. A minute she did not know if her powers had disappeared or she had simply done something wrong. Once Celeste found her powers were still there, she became herself again. The color returned to her body and her heart began to beat again, like waking up after a long winter. Like a bear. It was a strange feeling. She needed so hard to know that her powers were there that even after several minutes, she still remembered these moments of uncertainty with anguish. The girl had only tried to do something that her powers could not. Simple. She thought, trying to calm down again. The sense of loss attacked her constantly, but with less and less intensity. The memory was becoming weaker over time. Or she was getting stronger. Whatever it was... something growled. Whatever it was, her stomach was no longer interested in the past. It demanded as a king, a new ration of food. Dinner was just an empty promise for it. Far away. Although lunch was substantial, and only a short time ago, she agreed to its demands. She was slightly hungry and tired. Not extreme fatigued, but wanting to relax and enjoy a moment of calm.
She slipped back through the house, into the kitchen. With her bare feet enjoying the different textures and temperatures of the floor. Cold mosaic with geometric designs. Warm wood of a costly tree. Synthetic and natural carpets, short-pile carpets of a weird material, they even had the classic bear rug. From a real bear. Her long journey through the different textures eventually led her to the goal. The kitchen. A cool marble floor. She refilled her long glass with more orange juice, took more cookies and another slice of lemon pie. Then, went to her room again. Her bed received her with open arms, inviting her to sleep. She refused the proposal with great delicacy. Although the idea of a nap was very tempting, thinking about the gray men did not provoke much laughter on her. She shook her head as she watched her pillow with sorrow, apologizing. Celeste switched on her television and let the incessant digital voices of some program to entertain her while finishing her lunch.
Even when she decided not to use her powers for a whole week, after three nights without nightmares, the girl decided to keep experimenting. The horror was gone. The label of "witchcraft" changed to "ceremony" and later to "useful tool". That small transgression to the nature of things, the possible and impossible, made her feel very alive. It was as if those powers had been a part of her from the beginning, and not as she thought before: An intruder that appeared suddenly one fatal day to change her life for worst. Celeste was still not willing to let the world know of her capability, so she locked her sturdy wooden door and shut all the curtains to avoid being seen from outside. She did not know how it could be possible, she was living in a skyscraper, but it was better to take precautions. Just as she could steal the essence of things, others could fly. She spend a couple of minutes glancing to either side, scanning the airspace. It seemed clean. Satisfied, she shut the last curtain. Her box of memories was in the same place as always, hidden under shoes, thousands of them. Memories in a safe cardboard box that were protected by her army of twins. Each pair jealously guarded a corner of her closet, while a special guard made up of its most beloved shoes guarded the precious treasure box.
Once she stepped inside by dint of greetings and reverence among her army of shoes, the box received her with silent greetings. She opened it. Analyzing the insides of the box with sadness and joy at the same time, while a sense of past and present completely surrounded her. The half-smile that formed on her face expressed perfectly that diabolical mixture of joy and sadness. Her fingers toyed with a pendant that her grandfather gave her a long time before he died, long before she questioned her own mortality. She recalled those days as her fingers played with the heavy heart of silver, the centerpiece of the pendant. The faint rays of sunlight passing through the curtains drew flashes of silver from the surface and with every move that particular brightness danced in her hands like a small sun. A sun just for her, like everything else in her room. The thought caused a slight smile. How many memories. And all came from small objects. She hide the heart carefully, with her daily dose of nostalgia the girl closed the box to protect its contents.
Almost forgetting her faithful friend, she jumped up and ran to the bed neatly made. Then took Pier from the center of it and put him in a hurry on the ground next to where she would sit. Under the watchful eye of her teddy bear, she took her backpack that was at the foot of the bed and looked inside. Searching for the elements necessary to start her witchcraft. Markers, several colored sheets and a pair of completely white paper sheets. Neatly ordered by hue. On the left were the white sheets, and from there moved to the right in range of color and darkness until it ended in a completely purple sheet.
So far her experiments clearly showed that the natural and the artificial limits determined how much she could paint. Following that thought she was sure it would work the other direction too. It was still the first time she tried to did it on that way, so she felt a little uncomfortable. Even so, with great determination she set aside the concerns and took the marker and the purple sheet. Then she drew a small black circle that enclosed a small purple spot inside. That point would become the lower portion of color that she had used before. And if it worked, she would achieve a form of stealing colors faster and more effective, since she did not need to wait for the object to lost all its color. Putting her nail firmly on the tiny circle, she pronounced a name. She was calling it. Ordering it. The color immediately jumped to her nail leaving a small gray dot where it was before. The black ink acted as a limit, and the color surrounding the circle was not affected by her magic. Just as she expected. With a simple marker, she could lock the color in a circle to remove it extremely fast. Almost instantly. It was perfect for stealing colors on the street.
With her curiosity unsatisfied and her stomach crying out for a little attention, she decided to put practice in an idea that was bothering her for some days. By chance she had spilled nail polish on a piece of paper. At the time, the paper was a disaster, it got completely wet by the thick liquid. But when it finally dried, the polish seemed to have formed an impenetrable barrier around the paper. If her theory was correct... She ran to the other end of the room, there she took a new nail polish of a dark crimson. With it, she drew a big line on the last white paper sheet. The thick line was irregular and looked like a horrible bloody scar, disgusting and sticky. To allow time for the polish to dry and harden, the girl left the room toward the kitchen.
At that time the kitchen was not completely empty, the lady who always cook for them was preparing lunch. And it would be ready in ten minutes. Ten long minutes when she could not eat anything else because it'll ruin her appetite. Very reluctantly, Celeste returned to her room, cursing and swearing revenge on the evil cook that was trying to starve her. All she got was a glass of juice. That would have to calm her stomach for a bit. She almost finished the thick orange liquid with a long gulp. It felt cold and refreshing. With the drink for placebo, she was ready to continue. Hopefully the orange beverage would make her avoid losing focus. The nail polish was solid enough to support her nail.
She grouped all her thoughts and filter them to get a single name. A color. But quickly lost it in a crowd formed by many other thoughts. Most of these small intruders were produced by the delicious smell of food coming from the kitchen. Many other thoughts tried to put an image to match that intoxicating smell. She sighed, breathing hard several times until she decided that she was relaxed enough. Once again she made her way through her many thoughts, finding the one she wanted to keep. Then the girl deleted all others, and concentrated only in that color. "Red" A second later the nail was completely painted with the same crimson polish, this in turn showed a nasty gray. The illusion was good, yet somewhat confusing. She had her nails painted with nail polish and at the same time it was a lie. In true, the color was stored on her nail. To her surprise, the only way to find the difference, was to touch and feel the surface of her nail and feel that it had not changed at all. Although her eyes tried so hard to deceive her.
To begin the final stage, she placed her nail back onto the solidified nail polish. She maintained it there, firm but not pushing hard. Trying to channel the flow of her thoughts in the name of that color. She failed once again. But this time the thought that achieved to interrupt the process could be useful. "Why do you always use the same basic names? Some colors have many names, right?" Her brain was right, and she accepted the challenge gladly. She closed her eyes, and kept them closed for a few seconds, opening them she concentrated all the force of her gaze on the gray object she wanted to inject with life, while thinking... "Crimson." A more poetic way to say red . The first attempt failed. Although she did not know if it was lack of concentration or because the word was not correct. Taking a deep breath she tried again. The word left her mouth in a whisper and the jagged line of gray bathed in red. Or crimson. It was strange try a synonym, she did not feel as comfortable as with the generic name of the color. What if she tried in another language? She had to try that someday. But first... Knowing that she would have to wait for it to dry completely to avoid ending up with a gray nail, she took the nail polish one more time and painted the nail of the little finger of her left hand. That way it would form a protective layer
Lunch. Soup. Not just any soup. The specialty of... the lady who cooked for them. Whatever her name was. She knew it because she told her. With every little bit she felt how energy returned to her body. And it was clear the cook had not lied at all. This soup of many ingredients and exotic flavor was undoubtedly one of her best recipes. Her whole body welcomed the soup, especially her stomach. Now sedated with the delicious food. It was not just the glorious flavor, but also the warmth going down her throat. That heat extended to each corner of her body, revitalizing it instantly. Although the temperature of the house was perfectly leveled to not be extremely hot or cold, the warmth that caused the food was very nice. It was like a magical massage on each of her muscles. There was some magic in that soup.
She did not realize it until she arrived to her room again, but the nail polish had already dried up. She checked it a few times. Knowing very well that she could directly paint her fingernail by mistake, and she would need to live eternally with that color. There was no way out. And if in an attempt to get the color back, she absorbed it, her nail would end up gray. In the only way she thought it was possible to get rid of that gray, was tearing the nail completely.
With the certainty that her pinky nail was covered by a thick nail polish layer , she started the new experiment. She easily copied the red in the paper, and stored it in her right hand. There was no way to differentiate the color on the right and left hand. Both colors were the same, and under her selectively blind gaze, that shade of red looked completely gray. But still was possible to appreciate the shade of gray even when it was impossible to know what color it was. Luckily she already knew. With trembling hands caused by fear and the risks involved, she pressed the nail of her index finger of her right hand on the nail of her pinky finger of her left hand. "Crimson." She cried mentally. But the color did not move at all. Would it be because she was trying to paste the same color and texture on itself? If so, it should at least overwrite the other, such as when copying files...
Although she was nervous, the negation of the color to jump out of her fingernail irritated her enough to forget part of her fear and try harder. This time she concentrated much more, especially on both colors on display. This time the magic started. Apparently the previous attempt lacked part of the mental command she always used without realizing. Before she had done just looking at the color and the target, but now the color of the target was the same. So adding the mental process indicating where to paste what made it work. At the very moment the color left her nail, she was able to saw it again. And she saw her pinky was... just like before starting the experiment... the only way to check her nail had been magically painted by her powers was that she had no more red on her right hand. Not much of a guarantee, . A little disappointed at the so little dramatic effect that caused her nail but determined to bring the experiment to the end, she took a small flask with acetone and a large piece of cotton. And cutting a small piece of it, she moistened the cotton in the liquid, and rubbed it carefully on her nail. At the third attempt, she found that her theory was correct. Gradually the nail polish crumbled, and with it the color magically painted dissapeared.
The nail polish had disappeared, chemically removed from her fingernail by an art that seemed even darker than her magic. The chemistry used in the liquid was clearly known, but what she did not know was that this compound was able to destroy something that so far the girl considered indestructible. Her little heart was filled with joy and fear at the same time. Joy because her smart ideas always were correct. But that joy was ephemeral compared to the fear that gripped her soul. She had been able to paint anything without fear that the time claimed the magnificence of her witchcraft´s result, but now... now it seemed that her colors were so fragile as any other color painted by mortal means... Again and again she repeated to herself that it was not possible, that her colors were eternal. But she could not be convinced, as she had seen how the chemical had destroyed her art.
Unable to escape that circle of emotions that were repeated over and over again, she had decided that there was only one way to destroy her fear and anxiety. She had to test how strong was her magic. She never experimented in that way, so perhaps she would find more things able to destroy what she thought invincible. Of course the girl had already experimented with fragmentation, that resulted in the duplication of the colors. Dividing the initial color in small sources could duplicate them. The color remained even though the object was destroyed... But that was only one side of the coin. More research was needed.
With shaking hands for the many emotions that crossed through her head, she took two of the sheet that had been prepared earlier. Yellow and green. Then deposited them carefully in front of her, like forgotten treasures of ancient civilization. And for a long time, she just observed. Apparently the only way to destroy her color painted in a solid object was to destroy the object completely. Breaking was not enough, for it to be destroyed she needed to destroy it at more basic level. At a molecular level. Acid. The first thing that came to her mind was the acid. If her painted object was introduced in acid, it would be devoured. And the color would be lost. Was there a simplest way to erase her colors?
If a object painted by her fell into acid, not only the color would be affected but the object itself. It would at first be transformed into a mass until it would finally disappear completely. So there was no way for the color to survive, no color would. So she did not have to feel bad about it. Moreover, since this type of acid was so dangerous, not many people owned it and were not a treat for her. Knowing it was unlikely that her witchcraft ended by acid, comforted her a little. But not enough to make her stop the investigation.
Almost without paying attention, she tried to perform her magic. On certain occasions her ability was extremely interesting, and in other so predictable that the girl had no desire to do it. The lack of interest affected her concentration, and the lack of concentration affected her spell, it did not even started so she could not extract anything. Aware that she had to do was concentrate as much as she could, she tried again. And tried. Two attempts, the third attempt finally did it. Green moved quickly to enter the unlimited storage of her nail. Once in possession of the Green, the color remained motionless until she ordered him to get out. The color left its home as if it were green gelatin, slowly covering the entire yellow sheet until there was no trace of the previous color.
Putting the gray paper aside, a little thought arose in her mind. To join the list tagged as "destroyer of colors". Fire. One moment she was looking for possible threats to her works, and the other she was analyzing virtually all the many objects and materials that could be affected by fire. Many of the objects would melt and would twist if they were made of plastic or some similar material, changing its current color to a black char. While others, like paper, would be reduced to ashes. Now she had two things that destroy her colors. Even when she did not want to know more of them, she continued. Since her mind was already in motion looking for other possible culprits.
Acid and fire. Two new and horrifying ways to die for her magical colors. Two new deadly enemies that even she, queen and witch at the same time did not dare to face. These elements were so dangerous that not only her magic was affected, but also all the objects made by humankind. For now all the things that destroyed her colors were destructive in general, and were a threat to all things. So she was not surprise. It was not her fault, neither her colors´s fault, the world was just like that. At least she needed to prove that they could resist attacks by more natural things, not so aggressive... or at least not as devastating. For that was the yellow sheet that had been painted green. Celeste saw a lot of fragmented sheets and although the width of the sheet was minimal, Celeste had watched as the little body was painted the same color as the whole sheet. It just took her to the simple conclusion that not only the target surface was painted, but also the inside. The whole object.
With all the delicacy she possessed, she took the pre-painted sheet and put it in that special place in front of her, the place of honor for excellence where it had her absolute attention. The other objects that attended her court observed impotently. Once the paper sheet was where she wanted, she prepares to... annoyed she searched with her eyes for the scissors. When she did not found it, she began to look with her hands, lifting things and moving others until there was nothing she had not move. The exception was her backpack. She had prepared everything before getting to work, but apparently she had forgotten that element. Now the paper was forgotten. At least for a moment. While Celeste looked in her backpack. Her deep bag contained many things that the girl had to take out in order to find the scissors, which was hidden at the bottom of all. The shiny object was ready to use its sharp hand but fortunately the inanimate object behaved very well with her, it did not poke her or bitten even once.
Back in her working place, sitting with her legs crossed and looking down from her imaginary throne at the sheet of paper. Then she took the very sharp scissors and scrape the blade until she achieved a small hole through the sheet. Clearly failing. This time she tried to be more careful and to use a little more patience. With that combo, the girl managed to make a shallow furrow in the sheet. This time the decline was small enough to not reach the other side of the paper, but it showed clearly how the sheet was completely painted. It was not just a superficial process. The color penetrated under the skin and altered the objects at its center. Therefore her witchcraft was as strong as the object in which the magic was housed.
In other people, that little discovery would had sparked happiness and would had helped to return said person to its natural humor, but not in Celeste. That small victory meant nothing for her. Nothing was enough for a queen. She always wanted more. And right now all she wanted was... to eat something. Or so her stomach said in its last grunt. Sighing, she stood up and ran to the kitchen, determined to avoid missing precious time. The lady cook was cleansing all that was used for cooking. Celeste did not know how she did, but at the very moment she stepped into the kitchen, she knew she was there. and without even looking up from her dishes full of soap, she pronounced her name that way that only mothers can do. Celeste stayed frozen in place, trying not to breathe. Maybe so, she would managed to make her think she was not there. But no. The cook talked again. "There is flan, and cookies too." Her voice no longer sounded terrifying, but she could still feel the tone her mother used. Between caring, understanding and something else that she could not identify. "Your favorite." Added her employee, who obviously knew her even more than her own mother did.
As if the spell had been broken, she was able to move again. She took the things that she had listed, and headed swiftly toward her room as she munched a cookie. Between bites, the girl managed a few words to thanks her. All the way, she could not get out of her head the way she had spoken. So maternal, yet there was something else she did not like. A glimmer of sadness. Maybe her employee wanted to spend more time with their own children... or perhaps she had lost her children in a terrible accident. Without finding the answer, the girl arrived to her room. Swearing that if she found the opportunity, would ask her about her family.
By the time she sat in her usual spot, sheltered by the beautiful carpet, she was already chewing her third cookie. And with terror the girl watched as there were only three cookies left... or she ended the experiment fast or she would have to return to the kitchen for a little more food. For this experiment, she took one of her many anti stress balls. Balls made of highly durable material and completely made of the same material. With the old rag that she had not yet used, she surrounded the ball, then made a knot so it does not escape. Not having to fight with her stomach over the control of her conscious mind, made her quickly achieve focus. Then she uttered the single word that appeared in her mind. "Green." The green entered her nail, as if this were a black hole without end. The process ended automatically when the color of the entire sheet was in her power, it was then when she pressed her nail hard against the fabric that enveloped the ball. Pronouncing the same word, the color covered the canvas like a slime layer, when the ball was completely surrounded, she interrupted the process. Losing the color of her almost infinity stock.
Although she knew what to expect, she was impatient. Gravely concerned by the outcome and implications of her experiment. When she undo the knot, she saw how the color just had painted the first object, the first layer. But the ball had not been touched at all. Well, phase one was finished. She left the ball to one side, since she would need it later, and concentrate all her thoughts in the same color as her nail stabbed the piece of cloth. Once she absorbed all the color, she was prepared to do the process in reverse. Her nail perfectly accommodated on the surface of the blue ball of rubber without the dead object complaining. "Green." The color fell like a waterfall from her nail to its new host. After a few seconds of absolute concentration, the object was completely painted green. Not a single trace of it was dressed in blue.
Once the ball had its new color, the girl took the sharp scissors again and began the difficult task of cutting through all that rubber. That work would have been easier with a knife, but she had no desire to fall back to the kitchen, so she used scissors. With much effort, and some time later, she finally went through the ball. To get two almost equal halves. One was a little bigger than the other. Despite the subtle difference, both halves looked exactly alike. Completely green. From the outside to the center. The only thing that remained was to finish the conclusion. The color was able to affect the entire object, not just the surface. It was clear there was no way to identify at what point the color had covered the center. The only thing she had done was to watch the outside. She supposed that the center was painted at the same speed, maybe even faster.
