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.
Something had gone terribly wrong. He couldn't feel his toes but he could feel every nerve in his head. His throat was a hot, dry expanse of tunnel that had been hard used by rush hour traffic. His eyes were sealed shut and something was tickling his tongue.
Anthony toyed with a feather with his tongue. He sincerely hoped it wasn't still connected to a bird, but couldn't muster up the energy to find out. As a veteran of this particular fall-out, Anthony came to 3 conclusions. St. Patricks Day, Mardi Gras, or New Years. He lay there for a minute, rejoining disjointed memories...
It had started with a drink, at about seven pm. Times Square was already starting to get swinging. Anthony didn't know what bar he was in, some vapid blonde with a inferiority complex was on the Karaoke machine. A half dozen different frats and sororities had crashed the bar, which mean the party had already begun. The lights were low and the music was high, but the real party would be on the street in about an hour or so.
Tossing back a shot, Anthony made idle conversation with a couple of men his age, in terrible polo shirts and really bad hair cuts. Thinking for a second that he'd wandered into something from MTV, he wandered down to another bar. A few less people, but a lot less ridiculous. The drinking was a little more serious, and so was the flirting. Anthony made his way to the bar, ordered a double and made his way out into the dance floor...
Floor... That's where he was. Anthony was on someone's floor right now. How did he end up on a floor? Half rolling over, Anthony suddenly remember who got him into this particular mess.
Something was dripping on her forehead... It was annoying, and she wanted it to stop. Very badly. Megan groaned, and attempted to turn over in her makeshift bed. Her cheek bumped into something cold and much to hard, and she cracked an eye open. There was a mask still on her face, and a thumping pain behind her eyes. Ugh. Hangover. There was a cold draft in the room somewhere... or maybe it was the fact that there was a good amount of cold water in her bed. A bed that turned out to be a bathtub... how... the hell had she ended up in a bathtub? Shutting her eyes, she set about retracing her steps from the previous night at the beginning... ~ Cheering, laughing, and lots of brightly colored beads being flung about everywhere... Oh, how she loved these types of occasions. Megan had prepared for the night the day before, decking out a bikini top and a mask with peacock feathers and rhinestones. Her hair was freshly curled, knee high boots slapped onto her legs like a second skin, with fishnets and short shorts to finish off the look. All it took to get into the mood, was slap the mask on her face and shimmy her way out onto the streets. She blended in perfectly, and for once didn't mind hugging random strangers, or jumping into pictures with people. It was occasions like these that allowed her to adopt another personality, and truly have have fun-.... without the whole maiming people or causing mental damage.
Somehow amidst the roving bands of masked people, and flying beads, she had found herself tugged along with a group of snazzy dressed party goers to a little bar she had never seen before. She sidled up to the only single male of the group, and dropped a few cute lines in order to get herself another drink. He had already provided her enough booze that she felt like she was walking on air, rather than six inch heels. The booming of music greeted her ears as she danced around merrily with the two females of the group, ignoring the small writhing mass of bodies on the dance floor until a drink was in her hand, and she was pulled out with her little trope of masked strangers. ~ ...Oh yeah... Now she remembered all of those drinks. Gah, she should have known better than accepting that last one. Vodka on the rocks always spelled disaster. Megan was intterupted from her musings, when she heard a soft sigh... like someone waking, and felt something warm against her back move. Lifting her head, she turned and caught sight of a female next to her in the bathtub.
It took her less then three seconds to shriek and scramble out onto the floor. "What the HELL is this?!" Now on her butt, dripping on the floor, she looked from her bathtub companion, to her bare feet, and shrieked again. " And WHERE are my SHOES!?!"
Lydia Renard’s eyes fluttered for half a second, but half a second only, before a piercing light assaulted her brain and forced her to squeeze them shut again.
Head. Pounding. So. ****ing. Hard.
…what the hell had she been doing to earn a hangover this cruel? Her tongue tasted like a jumbled mix of too much alcohol, cherry chapstick, and road kill twice cooked by the sun. She needed water. She needed a Tylenol. She needed this damn hangover to go away. She tried to roll over onto her back, but a warm, squishy thing was on top of her arm. Something cold and hard was also pressing against her back, further trapping her. It took her mind a few moments to process her situation. Oh…s***. Best case scenario, it was a human body she was holding on to. Since it was warm, the skin-shifter could only assume it was a live human body. Good start.
She tried to open her eyes for the second time but, again, regretted it. She heard a distant dripping noise coming from somewhere as she let out a frustrated groan. Or at least an attempt at a groan, it came out more as a quiet croak. What the hell had she been up to the night before…? ----------------------------------------------
Lydia shrieked as a guy she had met only a few minutes earlier picked her up and carried her on his shoulders. The crowd she had just joined was loud and drunk, and subsequently she fit in right away. She had cruised with the college kids for a while, enjoying free drinks and cute guys, but decided it was time to move on when the girls started getting catty.
She held her lace-up pumps in one hand and a rum cocktail in the other, while the man held onto her bare legs and started walking toward a bar with the rest of the group. She giggled as her drink spilled all over the ground (and the guy’s head) beneath her. The teenager was put down when they reached the entrance to the bar, and she took a moment to readjust her white daisy dukes, which had slid way too far down her bum, and her mask covered in iridescent purple sequin scales. Lyd immediately joined the writhing masses on the dance floor, taking brief breaks every now and then to let some guy buy her a free drink and stare down her v-neck. She had lost count of how many drinks she had a long time ago.
---------------------------------------------- So many drinks…
That explained her current state of mind. Damn.
Then, suddenly the body lifted itself off Lydia’s arm and clambered out of the bathtub completely, stepping on her hand along the way. Motherf—, but her thought was interrupted by a scream. A female scream. A freaking loud female scream.
>> "What the HELL is this?! And WHERE are my SHOES!?!”
Honey I don’t know, but will you—“Shut the hell up?!” Whoops, she said the last part out loud. Dia once again opened her eyes, and this time grimaced through the pain of the light and slowly got up in…well, now she could see she was in a bathtub. Why was she in a bathtub? “Fml.”
Anthony was starting to drift back into sleep when he heard something splash. The beach? Just how drunk had he been? And that's when Hell split open and Armageddon began: Someone had started yelling. As demons ran rampant across the back of Anthony's eyes, he attempted to reach up and cover his ears.
As Heaven marshaled it's forces and took to the field, flaming swords running their way up and down his spine, an equally shrill voice retorted. The only way to stop The End of Days was to cover his ears, if he could just manage that, he'd be okay. But his arms wouldn't move, and Anthony realized why he couldn't feel his feet. He was tied up with a multitude of feather boas, shoe laces, and something that felt like Mardi Gras beads. He spit out the end of a feather boa...
...that had come from this beautiful red head. She was an undergraduate of something fancy from some college he'd never heard of. She had her arm around his shoulders, running her fingers through the fur on his neck. It felt marvelous. Anthony motioned to the bartender, who had already taken his black credit card. "A rouhd for everyone in the bah!" A cheer went up and the bar went crazy for a few moments. He yelled out for some quiet, and some of the people obliged! Hoisting the girl up on the chair, and holding her up, the bar quieted down a little bit more. "Make a toast, dahling!"
Anthony's New England accent was thick with more drinks then usual, but her somekinda Wisconsin accent was far worse. "To the..." Anthony faded out for a second as his phone vibrated, and as he pulled it out of his pocket and looked down, he missed something, because a shower of Mardi Gras beads showered his head. When he looked up, she was straightening her shirt and trying to get down. Dismay fought with regret, but Drunk won out. He turned for his drink, and when he turned back around, she was gone.
Oh well. He was about to consider it all a wash when he saw something that jigged his alcohol laden mind. A flash of a tattoo on some woman that looked way too familiar to be coincidence. A face ran through his mind, and he bobbed his head in time with the music. Lydia, her name was lydia, and she was hot. Anthony called out her name and waved his new feather boa. "Ly-
-diaaaa... Guh..." He finally braved to drag a dry eyelid over an equally dry eye. This room was dark, heavy curtains and air conditioning. He could see his pants on the floor. That meant that, very likely, he was not occupying them.
Another groan, louder then the first, as he rolled all the way onto his back. A sock was on a lampshade off to one side. It was probably his, but kind of hard to tell.
"Uurgh! Okay! Jesus christ...don't get your panties in a bunch.." For some reason her voice didn't hurt her head... but the other girls did. Dragging tired eyes from the girl, she pushed herself to her feet and headed over to the closest mirror. Her stomach was all a jumble, her legs felt like rubber... and she was pretty sure there was a bar of soap stuck to her shoulder...
A swift wiggle dislodged any bathtub paraphernalia from her person as she caught a glimpse of herself in the reflective, brutally honest mirror... OH GOD. Her hair was a mess... her mask was lopsided- when she remove it she found that the water from the tub had make the purple ink on the plastic bleed onto her skin. She looked like a goddamn effing teletubby.... "...Sonofab****, what the hell happened last night..?" Sure, she had drank more than she had planned, but she had done that numerous times before and never ended up in a friggen bathtub with a stranger! Dropping her mask, she turned on the faucet in the sink and splashed herself with frigid water. Oh... that woke her up alright... and thankfully washed away a little of the purple raccoon mask she had going on... ~ The feel of the dance floor quickly over took her. She had finished off her drink, and was dancing with one of the women she had come in with- perhaps a little too closely. "Isn't this such a bomb party!? She barely heard the bleach blond over the music, but nodded all the same. "If you say so!" Her drink provider had wandered off somewhere.. and across the bar she spotted a possible reason why. Above the heads of the crowd loomed a redhead with her goods bared for all to see. Megan hmphed, and grabbed her ditsy dancing partners hand. "C'mon, this spot's been over taken by sausages..."
The act of screaming 'sausages' loudly to be heard over the music was... kind of amusing. Probably a little too amusing. She dragged the girl with her to the closest bar- just off of the dance floor and down from the floozy who had exposed herself to a crowd of drunk and overly excited men- then up and onto the bar itself. One sure way to drag the attention of her drink provider back to herself, was to make a scene with lots of girl on girl dancing. It almost never failed. She and her partner had just started dancing again when the songs switched, apparently to something the blond was familiar with, seeing as she let out a loud, "Whooop!", and turned to face the crowd. Megan didn't stop her own groove, simply watching as the girl lifted her shirt and was immediately showered with beads. "Oh... sweety, put those things away... I can see your surgery scars." The girl didn't seem to hear her.. which was probably for the best... ~ "...ugh... this place better have some friggen pain killers... or someones gunna die.." She wiped her face clean with a towel, threw it on the floor, and headed for the closed bathroom door. The sight out in the living room was... one she was kind of used to. Red plastic cups littered the floor, the sheets had been torn off of the bed across the room and now resided in a heap next to the front door. Someone's pants were hanging from the bathroom doorknob, and she spied a tiny, pathetic excuse of a kitchen off in the corner. With a grumble, she left the cold bathroom behind and waltzed across the carpet, stepping over some prone figure on the floor who was in her way. There was no time to chat, or poke at people with toes.. she wanted Tylenol, and fast... though, she was happy to spot one of her shoes hanging from the ceiling fan along the way...
Oh. And Lydia was wet. That explained the dripping noise. She was sitting in a partially filled (and filling) bathtub. She loosely heard the woman, the woman she had apparently snuggled with in the tub, reply with some snarky retort about underwear and knots. She would have replied, but the noise of the other female’s grating voice combined with the thunderous beating in the skin-shifter’s head prevented her from doing so.
She glanced around the bathroom, eyes slowly growing accustomed to the wretched daylight streaming in from a nearby window. The room seemed standard and fairly clean, although she doubted the water she was in was. There were various splotches and wisps of muddy colors mixing and blending together in the liquid, and soaking into her shorts. Or out of her shorts, Dia really couldn’t tell. Crap. These were white. Emphasis on “were.” Her eyes tiredly scanned the rest of her body. Her bright lime green t-shirt seemed pretty intact, save for the fact that half of it wasn’t even on her body.
>> "...Sonofab****, what the hell happened last night..?”
She listened to the black-haired woman swear at her reflection in the mirror—with good reason. Lyd hoped she didn’t look as bad as her. A little purple on the eyes was pretty, but all over the face? Not so much—unless you wanted to look like Barney. “Good freaking question…” She muttered quietly in reply, mainly to herself.
>> "...ugh... this place better have some friggen pain killers... or someones gunna die…”
The teenager watched as the snarky lady washed the purple off of her face and stormed out of the bathroom. “Bring some back for me if you find some…” She croaked forlornly after her. Something told her that the woman wasn’t going to. -------------
Lydia thought she heard someone call her name while she went for another drink break. She turned her head, looking towards where she thought she had heard the sound coming from. But then again, the music was loud as hell, there were tons of people screaming and laughing, and she was very, very inebriated. She did several 360 degree spins, skimming the masses for anyone she might know, before finally turning back to her generous alcohol benefactor. As they neared the bar, however, Dia saw someone who looked familiar. Now what was his name again…?
“...Anthony!” She exclaimed, hoping she had gotten the name right. In all honesty she had called out the first thing that came to her mind. She ran toward the furry mutant, both shoes still miraculously attached to her left hand after the many harrowing journeys to and from the dance floor, and threw her arms around him in a hug. “Were you the one who called my name, cutie?” The teenager asked as she took the seat next to him and dropped her heels on the ground below her. She had already forgotten about the other guy, but he didn’t seem to mind. He was too busy throwing beads at some blonde chick not too far away from them. A larger crowd of guys began to encircle the blonde and her dancing partner.
The two women looked like they were having fun, if not enjoying the attention. Lydia kind of wanted to join them. Shooting Anthony (she still wasn’t sure if that was his name) a devilish grin and a signal that she’d be right back, the skin-shifter promptly stole his red feather boa and tossed it around her own neck, hopped off her seat, and danced her way to the two girls. “Hope you two don’t mind if I join you…”
------------- Lyd could really use a nice, hot bath. She started feeling the ache in her muscles from too much, well, everything. She pulled the drain lever under the faucet in the tub, and stared blankly as the multi-colored water swirled down the drain. It would have been a great sight if she was still drunk. Unfortunately, she was not, and her clothes were soggy and gross, further adding to her post-Mardi Gras pain.
The girl precariously stepped out of the bathtub, her legs wobbling and causing her body to sway, and decided to follow after the loud woman. She didn’t even bother glancing at the mirror. She simply was too tired to care what she looked like at the moment. Lydia dragged herself through the doorway, taking care not to touch the indiscriminate pair of pants hanging on the door knob on the other side. That was when she saw…the bed. Oh how she wanted to just lie down on it and sleep it all away! Well...there really was nothing stopping her.
She shuffled to the front door to collect a bed sheet or two, and quickly shimmied off her damp shorts, throwing them on the floor next to the night stand. With a sigh of relief she flung herself on the mattress, wrapping the sheets around her. Hopefully that lady wouldn’t shriek again…
Posted by arrowatch on Mar 9, 2011 22:13:26 GMT -6
Guest
Someone stepped over Anthony and ignored his plight. This was fine, because they had ceased their screaming. Something about all of this made sense, it had to. Everything made sense eventually.
Hunching himself into a sitting position, he opened both of his eyes and blinked. A soggy looking girl (woman, babe even) was walking towards a kitchenette looking area. He wish he'd opened his eyes while she was walking past him, a better view of those legs might have cured his hang over. Being bound like a rug wasn't so bad, if he'd spent his night with that sexy chi-
The woman turned towards him, and he had a sudden flash back. Standing in a museum, glued to an emergency door, spiders swarming up and about this girl as she ran away.
Anthony let out a shout of "Oh, F-
"-air game, it's Mardi Gras! Hell, man, it's like, man. Yeah?" "I have no idea what words you said, but you might be right!" Anthony humored the ridiculous man who'd just sidled up to the bar and started talking to everyone who could hear. Lydia was spinning circles like a top. She finally noticed him, something like a minute after he'd called her.
"Anthony! Were you the one who called my name, cutie?" She sat next to him. She seemed halfway captivated by something down the bar. He tried to get something witty and clever out of his mind, something to charm Lydia off her feet, but she wandered off before he could manage it. He thought she might be back. Maybe. Hard to tell with drunk girls. And she was such, clearly.
He looked at the couple of girls she was dancing with. There was a blonde, and a black haired girl in a purple mask who was also killer cute. "Dear God, thank you for Mardi Gras, women and Alcohol." He picked up Lydia's shoes and started to hedge his way closer to the group. But, lacking the proper chest equipment, the crowd didn't give way as well for him as they did Lydia.
Looking around, it was amazing how many people were in this bar. People were coming and leaving like the currents of the ocean. Eddies would form around cores of women, dancing or revealing themselves. People would wash up to different bar sections like drift wood on islands. Grand, glorious, and most definitely glittery. Good lord, so many sequins. Ridiculous.
"-ing ridiculous! What are, who, this isn't my hotel room, ugh. Ugh ugh ugh. ARGH!" Anthony flopped back down, completely exhausted. But he was glad, he'd gotten to yell, too. It was only fair. The carpet was quite nice, but being tied up was starting to get old. Anthony wanted to feel his feet again.
"Oh, thank GOD." The cupboard in the 'kitchen' had a bottle of aspirin. Someone, somewhere, loved her. She glanced over her shoulder, blue eyes tired and more than a little bleary, as the other girl exited the bathroom as well, and quickly took over the bed. With a scowl, she popped open the bottle and got her pills out, grumbling about greedy blanket hoggers the whole time. She heard another voice, this once from the floor, and shot another glance over her shoulder as she fished out two glasses. She had heard the girls request, and completely blamed what she was about to do on her hangover.
Two tall glasses of water in hand, she tossed the bottle of pain relievers across the room and onto the bed, then headed that way herself, piping up with an overly cheery, "Mornin' Sunshine~", on her way past the male on the floor, who she had yet to fully recognize... ~ “Hope you two don’t mind if I join you…”
The blond didn't even hear the girl, but Megan sure did. "Of course not!" She scooted on over to make room for the new girl, and 'accidentally' knocked the blonde off the counter with a swift bump of her hip. Two was okay, but three was pushing it... and new girl had yet to lift her top. A fair trade, if she were to say so herself.
"Watch out for the grabby ones... they're getting kind of rabid." The fact that blondie had vanished into the crowd proved her point much more than words could. Turning to the mass of eager male faces, she put her hands on her hips and raised her voice to be heard over the music. "Who wants to buy some pretty girls a drink?!" The resounding cheery of over intoxicated menfolk answered her question, and she grinned at the girl dancing beside her... ~ "Hey... here." The second glass of water clicked against the bed side nightstand as she set it down, then turned to knock back her own head ache relieving, heaven sent pills and a few gulps of clean, crisp water. At least it wasn't a crappy hotel room... Her eyes dropped from her glass, to the floor beside the bed where someones suit case resided. "..Oooh, something to change into?" Setting down her own glass of water, she squatted and lifted the suitcase onto the bed. Once open, she found that it contained someone's vacation clothes.
It only took her a few seconds to finger through everything, and extract an "I'm with stupid =>" T-shirt from the pile. "...Jesus..." She held the shirt up in front of her, and felt dwarfed. "...this thing has got to have like, eight X's." With that, she moved off to the bathroom again, once again stepping over the man on the floor like he didn't exist.
No, the bathtub woman did not shriek again. Some annoying and incredibly obnoxious guy filled the silence for her instead. Lydia pulled the sheets over her head, trying to block out the noise, but the thin layers of cotton hardly gave her a defense against the din. She briefly debated if she should tell him to shut up too, but he quieted down quickly. Just in case, she growled from under the sheets, “Whoever you are, don’t frigging do that again.” Her aching brain yelled in agreement. So apparently this wasn’t his hotel room. That meant she was in a hotel, good to know.
>> "Mornin' Sunshine~"
A minute later, she felt something small hit her calf, accompanied with a “cheery” greeting. It came from the snarky woman, who had managed to find some pain killers, apparently. Lyd stuck her hand out from under the bed sheets and felt around her legs for the bottle of pills. While she was doing that, the black-haired lady brought her a glass of something, hopefully water, judging by the clinking noise it made against the small bureau.
Wait a second…this woman looked and sounded so familiar… Lydia poked her head out from under the sheets and looked at her, with squinted eyes, and tried to figure out who she was. Oh hey she’s that… -------------
>> "Of course not! Watch out for the grabby ones... they're getting kind of rabid.”
Lydia grinned when the baring blonde flew off the counter, leaving her with more room when she scrambled on. Her balance on top of the wooden table was precarious at best, and while she danced she was in danger of falling over like the other girl had several times. Not that she really noticed, of course. At that point everything around her was spinning.
>> "Who wants to buy some pretty girls a drink?!"
“Whoooo!” She yelled in agreement, as did the crowd of guys. They indeed were getting pretty rabid. She was surprised no one had gotten trampled yet. The skin-shifter gave another cheer when she realized she knew the song that was playing. It was one of those mind-numbing, yet incredibly catchy, songs about partying and drinking and girls, and well…it definitely defined what was going on.
She thought she saw a glimpse of black fur somewhere in the large group of males, but it quickly disappeared amongst the bodies. That reminded her, she had promised Anthony she’d be right back. But dancing and free drinks from plenty of eager men were so fun!
------------- …girl I danced with. But how had they ended up in the same hotel room, together in the tub? As Lydia realized the gravity of that statement, something heavy was lifted onto the bed, a suitcase. Why did this woman have a suitcase? Was it her hotel room? Oh my God why am I in this stranger’s hotel room? Her mind jumped to conclusions as the bathtub lady procured a super large t-shirt from the bag, commented on its size (it really was huge), and then promptly headed to the bathroom to change.
She had been dancing awfully close to Dia last night…and she was older, which somehow, in the teenager’s mind, made her a possible predator. A cougar, if that still applied to older women who preyed on younger women.
Posted by arrowatch on Mar 16, 2011 21:42:16 GMT -6
Guest
The suite was not the smallest room in the universe, but it was sufficiently small. A deep breath cleared Anthony's head and cleaned some post-party lung pollution out. There was an art to recovering from a hang over. And it started with revenge. Sweet revenge. The women, two so far but nobody had cleared the closet or under the bed, had largely ignored him, so they became the targets of his ire. A deft twist of the hip, a turn of the shoulders, and Anthony was fr- come on come on get off get off. And Anthony was in a vaguely uncomfortable position, still tied up.
Plan B. With a inching motion, Anthony squirmed his way quickly towards the kitchen. Just as he crossed the threshold, he heard someone talking about clothes. And he was missing this. Hunching over on his side, he rocked onto his knees, pulling his legs underneath him. Normally, it is a simple matter of a fluid standing motion. But when you are hung over, basic coordination is difficult. He found his balance shifting weirdly as his inner ear let it be known something was not okay. And without control of his dead legs...
Anthony launched himself up, over, and down. Like a fish jumping from a river. Landing on his back painfully. Anthony groaned...
... at the sight of Lydia and her new dance partner. They were poetry in motion, fluid grace and sensual movements. Well, maybe not so much poetry and grace, but they made up for it with effort. Nobody with line of sight on them would complain, in any case.
The club was packed, at this point. It wasn't an ocean of humanity anymore. It was the sardine packing factory, and someone was very good at their jobs. The only comfortable places were tables and chairs, and women were finding refuge in those spaces. This wasn't optimal, not by any view of the imagination. And being pushed against a furry mutant was probably no fun for anyone else. Not the guys, anyway.
Anthony laughed a long, wide mouthed laugh, show casing as many of his pointed teeth as possible, and opened his eyes as wide as possible to gather the dim light. This made a brief half-second gap, which he stepped into with aplomb and dignity. Cupping hands, calling out.
"Lydia! Lydia, we should get out of here and find another bar! It's packed, and starting to smell like New Jersey. Your cute friend should come too!" Anthony smiled and waved...
... his hands in little bitty circles. He was balanced, almost standing. But he was stuck and quickly failing. The counter was rough on his lips, and the wood grated weirdly on his teeth. Some kind of pressboard, with fake vinyl or linoleum or something. The counter was significantly short than himself, so he was doubled over, rump in the air. He'd managed to get into a mostly standing position, but if spat out the counter, he'd fall. The effort was drawing small, distressed grunts from him, and he really didn't know what to do at this point. He'd gotten into an intractable situation, and the only option was to fall down. Which sounded much, much to painful.
The bathroom mirror was not her friend... not in the slightest. Now that her headache was...eh, manageable, she took to scrubbing at her face again until all traces of purple were gone from her nose and forehead... unfortunately that also meant that what little makeup had been left was gone. "Oh god... it's like looking death in the face..." She felt naked. And was, technically, but her parachute of a shirt solved that problem. Stuffing her wet, dirty clothes under the sink, she took another look at herself in the mirror, and frowned slightly. Hangovers always left her with dark circles under her eyes... not the most attractive thing to have where you were stranded somewhere with strangers and no makeup...
She heard a slight commotion from outside her bathroom door, and paused to reflect back on who the other person in the room had been. Some guy who had obviously had too much fun with boa's and shoelaces... but, now that she thought about it something about him has seemed familiar. She just... couldn't put her finger on it. Was it the pantless part?... no, no. She had seen many pantless men. The hair?... no, she hadn't really paid much attention to that. Hmm...
"Holysh*t-" ~ "Whoohoo!" Someone passed her a martini glass with something pink and fruity in it. Megan was not a girl to decline a free drink- she did sniff it first though, to make sure it wasn't some crappy pink pineapple concoction... Ick, how she hated that spiny yellow monstrosity.
Taking a gulp of her free drink, she ignored the other various glasses and bottles shoved up at her and turned to her dance partner for a toast. "To Mardi Gras! The best reason to party, drink and be merry!" And not to mention all the pretty beads one could acquire by standing next to the flashers. Megan caught some beads from the air that were destined for some other female dancer in the crowd, and held them out to her fabulous dance partner, rather than take away from her own growing neck full. She stooped to drop her newly emptied glass off on the counter, and turned back to see that someone in the crowd was shouting up at the other dancer on the counter. Lydia, lydia, so that was her name?
She watched, eyes narrowed behind her mask, not stopping her groooove for a moment- until she realized who the man was calling to the younger woman... 'Holy hell...' It really figured, that she'd meet him again in such situation. Megan grinned, red lips nearly cracking her face in two, and finally stopped to wait for the girls answer... ~ "Fuzzybutt!" The bathroom door slammed open, and she strode out into the main room with her hair limp against her shoulders from washing her face, and her eyes seeking out the last place she had seen him. His previous spot was empty, instead she followed a little trail in the lush carpet and spotted him across the room- in a...really odd position.... and tried to hold back her laughter. (as it made her head hurt..) "...What...the hell are you doing?"
A brief and rare urge to move over and help him out of his precarious pose came over her, and quickly passed. Instead, she dropped her eyes to the pants on the door and remembered that her lower half under the shirt was still naked. Another pair of pants across the room caught her eyes, a less gigantic pair, and she moved over to pick them up and slip them on. Once she felt clothed, if a little awkward, she toddled past the bed with other girl, and into the kitchen. "Are you going to make a habit out of always being relatively immobile whenever I'm around, Mr. Fuzzybutt?"
Lydia continued to panic as the cougar did her business in the bathroom, whatever that was. She sat up and scanned her surroundings, taking particular note of the door, the exit when she made her getaway. She remembered that there was another person in the room, and slowly slid out of the bed, eyeing the bathroom door in case the woman came out. She silently crept towards the kitchen, quietly calling out, “Hello? I have no clue what’s going on but—” But oh hey! There was Anthony…with his bum up in the air…and his mouth on the kitchen counter. Dia blinked. Well, then. “Uh…hi Anthony?” She said, staring at the mutant’s tied-up predicament.
“How did you get like that?” She asked, quite stupidly, as she just stood there. He made no reply, although that was probably because of the counter in his mouth. She blinked again, just to make sure any remnants of the night before weren’t making her see the image in front of her. “I guess I should be helping you out of this, shouldn’t I?” -------------
Dancing, dancing, dancing, that was Lydia’s primary objective. Oh, and getting her cup refilled every other song. Ah, the joys of holidays like this, where everyone was too buzzed to properly check your ID. She had her fake on her, of course, but at that point she wasn’t exactly sure of where it was on her person. In her pocket? In her bra? Heck, maybe it wasn’t on her body at all. But that was a problem for tomorrow.
>> "To Mardi Gras! The best reason to party, drink and be merry!”
“Hell yeah!” She cheered as her dancing partner passed along some beads she had caught. Lyd hooked them around her neck while she heard a familiar voice call her name. It was Anthony again. She supposed it was time to get back to him anyhow, and he was right about it getting too crowded in there. “Hey cutie, wanna get out of here? My fuzzy friend wants to go somewhere new,” She said, pausing to point out the one calling her. The woman was wearing a devilish grin, indicating something was up, but the skin-shifter did not know what to make of it. Maybe she was attracted to Anthony or something. The teenager supposed all the fur could be a turn on for some people. She shrugged and started to climb off the bar table, glancing back at the smirking woman to see if she would follow.
------------- Lyd began to tug at random strings and boas to see what effects they’d have on Anthony, when the cougar lady burst out of the bathroom, screaming something about fuzzy butts. The girl almost fell over in shock, but managed to stay vertical. She watched, still frozen in shock from the woman’s outburst, as said woman pulled on a random pair of pants sitting on the ground nearby and waddled back to them. She remembered she didn’t have any pants, but she stayed where she was. Any sudden movements and the cougar would notice her and strike. She did her best to fade into the dingy off-white wallpaper and smother her fear as well. The woman could probably smell it.
>> “Are you going to make a habit out of always being relatively immobile whenever I'm around, Mr. Fuzzybutt?”
Mr. Fuzzybutt? Well…that certainly was an interesting nickname. “Fuzzyb—erm, I mean Anthony…do you know this lady?” Lydia whispered.
Anthony was relatively sure he was happy in his currently position. In fact, this counter wasn't the enemy. It was his friend. It was his ally. In the war against gravity and balance, it was his brother. They would wage this war, and return home triumphant. They would each marry the girl that was waiting back in the village when they got home, and raise many li- Clearly hung over. Concentrate on task at hand.[/i]
"Hello? I have no clue what’s going on but- Uh…Hi Anthony? How did you get like that?” Honey, you wouldn't believe me if I could tell you. [/i]“I guess I should be helping you out of this, shouldn’t I?”Yes. Yes you should.[/i]
"Fuzzybutt!" Oh. Dear. God. It was her. Suddenly things began to string together through his mind, 3 seconds of perfect clarity brought on by a near cosmic convergence of circumstance and odd blood pooling in the top of his brain from his current position. The girl from the museum, the one that stuck him to a-
-wall was probably the safest direction. The people packed in around him were getting out of control, bless their hearts. A few adventurous people were groping literally anything that happened to press against them. Anthony was equal rights, but not indiscriminate.
Lydia turned and said something to the hottie in the mask and began towards him. He took her hand and began to try and lead a way out. "If your friend wants to come, grab her!" Anthony grinned at Lydia and then began the age old awkward one hand crowd swim. Nobody knew who invented it, and it was pretty crummy, but it was what he had. Lydia's hand was cold, which was not surprising. She was blitzed. Her friend was probably blitzed. Anthony reached up and poked his nose (another time tried drunken action) to find out if he was drunk. He couldn't feel his nose at all, which meant he was drunk.
He breached the doorway leading out into an even bigger party outside, but found himself stuck in the door way, in a mass of people. He was afraid he was going to lose Lydia's hand and she'd be trapped in there until the cleaned up the next day. All and all, he felt-
relatively immobile whenever I'm around, Mr. Fuzzybutt?” Anthony pondered the events of the morning and realized he'd seen the spider lady in her panties several times that morning. She would probably faint if- when he told her. Oh yes.
“Fuzzyb—erm, I mean Anthony…do you know this lady?” "Err, ehh egh oe aie a-a ooeeeuh, ee uhk ee oo a arr. Ahh Ah aww err aaheesh." Realizing the futility of his endeavor, Anthony abandoned Micah, his brother in arms, and flopped backwards as dramatically and emphatically as a person could reasonably be expected to manage completely tied up. "Not as well as you, I would imagine. You both look like you spent the night in a full tub." Anthony winked at them both.
Crossing her arms over her chest, she adjusted herself so that she was leaning against the wall and smirked at the hog-tied man. Served him right, for being such a goody goody. She raised her eyes to the other girl, who was still rather unclothed... and cocked and eyebrow.maybe it was just the hangover, but the girl had adopted the look of a frightened rabbit. What, had she grown a set of a hairy spider legs? Megan blinked, and quickly turned her head to make sure she hadn't, in fact, grown any extra legs over night... ~ “Hey cutie, wanna get out of here? My fuzzy friend wants to go somewhere new,” It was the alcohols fault that Megan turned and blinked over her shoulder for a moment, before it dawned on her that the girl was looking at her and not at someone else over her shoulder. With a inebriated giggle she shouted her reply over the music and took a step to follow the girl down. Said step turned into a trip, which was gracefully covered up by the mass of bodies below assuming that she wanted to go crowd surfing. After a short, stomach turning ride she was deposited down along side her new dancing buddy, and wobbled after them as her senses came sloshing back to her.
Her little trio party came to an abrupt stop in the doorway, and with smelly sweat soaked bodies pressing in on her from almost every angle, she decided to take matters into her own hands and sacrifice her precious mane of beads for the greater good. More drinks, new people, bigger place! ...hopefully... there was also a strong possibility of passing out on top of a bar somewhere along the way. Sidestepping a pair of dancing girls with as much grace as she could muster in her current state, she tugged a handful of beads from around her neck- nearly pulling off her mask in the process, which would not do- and started hurling them out into the night air. The people outside took notice and there was an excited scramble for the necklaces. She ignored the wave of flashed jiggly bits, and tried to steer her new friends through the parting crowd... ~ “Fuzzyb—erm, I mean Anthony…do you know this lady?”
lady?! Blue eyes narrowed and her nose wrinkled with displeasure. She wasn't old enough to deserve that title yet! Before she could get in a biting remark about how the young and pant-less shouldn't sling old matron names at twenty three year old's, the fuzzy one spoke.
"Not as well as you, I would imagine. You both look like you spent the night in a full tub."
"Oh? You wound me sir... and here I thought we were pals." She ignored the wink, and smiled smugly down at him, "Besides, I'll bet you'd have killed to be in that tub, Fuzzybutt."
Turning her eyes back to the other girl, she re-raised a delicate eyebrow and smirked. "Never would have pegged you as the type of girl to tie a guy up."
>> "Not as well as you, I would imagine. You both look like you spent the night in a full tub."
Lydia rolled her eyes at his wink. “Coming from the guy who’s tied up. Wonder what you were up to last night…?” She replied with a raised eyebrow. A better question, why did Anthony seem to know more about her previous night’s exploits than she did? Seriously, she had no recollection of how she had ended up in the bathtub at all. But her brain was slowly churning up memories, she probably just had to think about it some more… -------------
>> “If your friend wants to come, grab her!”
Anthony took her hand as they started making their way through the crowd, and she had a vague sense of déjà vu. It took Lydia a moment to realize she should do the same for the other woman. They squeezed their way through the packed people, but eventually the space was so crammed they found themselves trapped between the bodies, right in the doorway. So close and yet so far.
I’m still holding their hands, right? She wondered as she was pushed around in the mass of writhing, wiggling dancers. She couldn’t really feel anything at the moment, nor could she see her hands. Suddenly a shower of beads was thrown out the door, attracting the attention of the revelers outside, and the crowd started to dissipate. Lyd began to breathe as the people pressing up against her moved away, and she felt herself being tugged out. She let herself be pulled along, until at last she could smell the cool night air instead of sweaty bodies.
“Where to now, Anthony?” She asked, a giggle accompanying her words. “Wait a second, you guys are not Anthony, or that other hot girl…” No, they were most not. She stared at the pair she was with, and they stared at her. It was a man, a mutant man, with scales all over his body, like that of a snake, and a blonde woman with a decidedly skimpy outfit on.
“And you are not Giana.” Well, crap.
------------- >> “Oh? You wound me sir... and here I thought we were pals. Besides, I'll bet you'd have killed to be in that tub, Fuzzybutt."
Lydia couldn’t help but snort at the woman’s comment. But it looked as if Anthony had had his own fun that ni—
>> "Never would have pegged you as the type of girl to tie a guy up.”
Pokerface. Pokerface. Pokerface. She really wanted her pants now. The girl could feel a blush creeping up, but she fought to keep it away. “Funny, I’d think that tying up men would be more of your thing.”
