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.
Isabel groaned as she was asked to stand back up almost as soon as she'd settled onto the ground. He hadn't launched into his usual demands revolving around her exercise routine, but he wasn't allowing her to get comfortable either. At least it hadn't been an outright command, meaning she had a little wiggle room and didn't feel the need to jump to her feet right away. She was slowly learning how to work around his words, though she had far from perfected any kind of method of dealing with him. Thus far it largely consisted of dragging her feet whenever he requested anything before it turned into an order and she felt compelled to follow through.
She purposely continued to lounge on the floor for a few minutes after she'd been asked to get back up before finally getting back on her feet, not at all bothered to make it a quiet affair. She didn't exactly appreciate all the noise he was making, either. She hadn't really even registered the table when she'd slumped into the building, though she wasn't exactly surprised by its presence. She did her best to focus on what he was doing and attempted to ignore the dull throbbing that was beginning to settle in her temples.
Curiosity finally won out and she moved away from the wall and toward the table to investigate the bag that was currently being rifled through. She couldn't help but smirk as she moved around the opposite side of the table and tried to catch a peek at what Zephyr was playing with.
"Marbles? Are those supposed to intimidate me?" she asked, folding her arms and regarding the objects with an air of amused disbelief. If he threw them at her they'd smart, but they hardly required the kind of armoring that he was asking her to put in place. She was sure they'd only bruise her skin at best and that was something she could easily handle. Still, her bones shifted to create a thin layer of protection just underneath her skin, as per the norm. Just because the things wouldn't do any serious damage didn't mean she trusted the man wielding them. "And why do I have to cover my clothes? Do you have any idea how uncomfortable that is? What are marbles even gonna do to my clothes in the first place? This is so stupid."
Keeping track of Isabel from the corner of his eye as the girl made her way to the table Zephyr resisted the urge to sigh when the soubrette demonstrated her amused disdain for the marbles. Yet another of the ingénues bad habits was that she tended to jump to conclusions far too often, sadly that was folly that could only be countered with experience and so the elemental occupied with transferring the sea green marbles from the sack into the jar, tilting the former at an angle so they wouldn’t spill from the pipe before he spoke.
“Isabel, I’ve seen you take a round of buckshot to the stomach without flinching, I know ‘marbles’ aren’t going to scare you. Give me more credit than that.”
Keeping the jar at its oblique angle with a simple cushion of air Zephyr returned his attention to the duffel bag and began withdrawing a number of oddly shaped plastic components along with a thin metal pipe roughly two feet long. He’d just begun to assemble the various pieces into the far more familiar shape of a firearm when Duskmoor resumed her age old past time of whining and the elemental started tuning her out out of habit, only paying attention to every other word or so.
“…cover my clothes? -any idea how uncomfortable… so stupid”
Giving a thoughtful hum, the elemental replied with casual shrug as he continued to search for a section of plastic tubing. “Ah, I thought that might be an issue. Just take them off then, you won’t need them.” He told her without looking as he finally found the fuel line and began connecting it to the compressed air canister.
By the time he did look back up the buxom brunette had already removed her shirt and her hands were behind her back working on the fastener for her bra when two rather vital items of note caught Zephyr’s attention; firstly that the girl hadn’t raised her armor and so he found himself seeing rather more of the soubrette than he usually did as his eyes instinctively trailed from her bare naval to the top of her shoulders.
Appealing as Isabel’s figure was though, it perhaps wasn’t surprising that the second thing the hessian noted was that her face had turned crimson and her eyes were wide in disbelief as she felt her hands finally unhook her bra without her apparent consent.
“No,no, just stop.” Zephyr rested his head in his hand as he gave the order before the girl could push the garment off her shoulders. It didn’t take a genius to realize what had happened, and while a part of would have loved to just watch the show, the rest of him… didn’t.
He was better than that.
Still, as he regarded Isabel again he realized that this was something that had to be discussed. The girl had fallen into a crouch the moment he’d finished speaking, hugging her knees to her chest as she tried to hide as much of herself as possible and she was visible trembling.
Yes, they needed to talk about this.
“Cover yourself up.” He told as he purposefully turned his back to give her gamine some semblance of privacy. “Once you’re done make a chair and sit here.” He indicated the table behind him by jabbing him thumb over his shoulder. “We’re going to talk about this, and you're not getting up until we’re done.”
Cafas: "Zephyr is the king of bad decisions, but if Sebby being weak to ghost is anything to go by, not so amazing at follow through."
Replacing her clothes turned out the be more difficult than removing them had been. Isabel's fingers were trembling so much she was having trouble hooking the clasp on her bra back in place and once she had managed that she seemed unable to tell which part of her shirt was up and which was down as her hands fumbled with the fabric before finally being able to pull it back over her head.
It took even longer for her to be able to process what else she'd been told to do. Her body was still trying to sort out the rush of adrenaline that it had gotten in her sudden fright and her mind had gone slightly fuzzy along with it. Judging by his reaction, Zephyr hadn't meant for things to go as they had, but it was hard not to demonize him for it anyway. She'd had a feeling that something strange was going on as she'd gradually been more inclined to follow directions he'd issued, but not strange enough for her to have worried about it just yet. However, this turn of events had frightened her. The last thing she ever wanted to do in front of anyone was strip, and yet she'd been unable to keep herself from doing exactly that. Something was going on and it wasn't right.
Once she was sure that she was properly covered again she shakily got to her feet, her legs trembling nearly as much as her hands. She kept her eyes carefully averted from Zephyr's turned figure as she crafted herself a crude but sturdy chair and settled herself onto it. The armoring that had collected beneath her skin seeped up to cover it instead, stopping before it reached her hands and her jawline, just in case things went badly again.
Her arms folded over her stomach and her gaze dropped to her knees as she settled at the table and waited for the young man to start speaking, all the while fighting against the hot prickling she could feel building behind her eyes and ignoring the burning in her face. She knew it wasn't her fault, but she was mortified anyway. Ashamed. If she'd taken his words the wrong way then maybe it was her fault, but if that were the case why hadn't she been unable to stop her own hands? Something wasn't right and now she knew without a doubt that she wasn't in control anymore. Zephyr was the one in charge and that sat very badly with her.
When he sensed Isabel had finally taken her seat back at the table turned back to the soubrette, quietly taking in her armor along with her flushed features and the tears gathering in her eyes as she stared down at her lap. He could practically feel the slight hitch in her breath which caused her shoulders to shake every few seconds.
Condensing the air beneath to form his seat Zephyr sat down opposite the soubrette, moving the half made gun on the tabletop to one side and placing his elbows there instead as he rested his chin in his hands as he quietly cursed himself.
He’d known that he’d have to watch his words after the compulsion had set in, known how easy it was to for a literal meaning to stray from the intended one. This shouldn’t have happened, he’d fully expected Isabel to bring up her armor before anything started coming off, but instead the girl’s phobia had kicked in the moments her hands started moving and she’d become a veritable deer in the headlights.
Letting out a frustrated sigh he stalled for a few seconds more before speaking, his words low and apologetic. “For what little it’s worth, I’m sorry.” There was little point trying to hide the fact he was responsible at this stage. “I had no intention of making you do that and if it ever happens again you have every right to fight me.”
“That being said, I want you to try and come down so we can talk about this.” He gestured vaguely at brunettes armored form. “There’s nothing wrong with modesty, everyone has it to some degree, but you seem to be terrified of anyone seeing anything below your shoulders.”
He paused again as the ingénue seemed to curl in on herself and he debated his next words, considering what he’d already done, forcing the compulsion again wouldn’t improve the situation. At the same time though he doubted Isabel would answer anything in her current state. He wrestled with himself for a few seconds before ultimately coming to a compromise.
“Tell me why… please.”
Cafas: "Zephyr is the king of bad decisions, but if Sebby being weak to ghost is anything to go by, not so amazing at follow through."
Talking about her issues was definitely not a thing that Isabel did. She was the kind of person that bottled things up and shoved unwanted problems to the back of her mind and took out her frustrations on the world at large, usually in a whole variety of gruesome ways. Keeping people out was a priority. To let anyone in, to let someone pick her brain and figure out her inner workings was a threat to her. It made her vulnerable and allowed someone to get the upper hand in one way or another. That was not something she allowed.
Talking to Zephyr was mandatory, though. She wouldn't be allowed to leave until he was satisfied with the answers his questions received and she knew that he was capable of outlasting her resistance. She had heard his apology and registered the offering of the 'please' as a slightly less forceful demand. She'd have to do as she was told, but there was no rush. He would allow her to speak at her own pace, but she would have to speak none the less.
"The foster system isn't always a nice place to grow up," she started once she thought it was safe enough to speak without the risk of her voice catching, her eyes glued firmly to her own lap and her fingers curling into the fabric of her worn shirt at her sides. "There's a lot of people that take kids in and turn out to be monsters. People that beat kids, neglect kids, do much worse things. The people that seem the nicest are the ones you really have to watch out for. Those are the ones that usually have two faces. But kids learn quickly and they figure out how to protect themselves. I never stayed in a home more than a few weeks if I could help it and I ran away from all of it when I got the chance."
The human looking kids were always in high demand and the facilities that had housed Isabel were constantly trying to push her off on someone because of the amount of trouble she caused them. She was always being told to behave and to stop flaunting her mutation so she'd be easier to pass off on someone. Anyone that was tricked found out quickly enough and she made sure they didn't keep her. She made sure they were too afraid to do so.
"And then the Camps," she continued, swiping one hand over her cheeks as her eyes started to well. She had done her best to avoid ever thinking about her time in the Camps if she could help it. Talking about it was always off limits. But she couldn't avoid it this time. "Mutants that people were afraid of were the biggest targets there. Mutants like me. I might as well have had a bulls eye stamped on my forehead. Once people get over being afraid, they get bold and they get stupid. When someone like a camp guard can overpower you with the push of a button, everything goes to hell. There's only so much you can do before someone corners you by yourself and you're shocked or beaten into a stupor and can't protect yourself."
She was trying not to cry, but it was getting harder by the minute. Having to relive some of her worst memories, even very briefly, was horrible and exhausting. Having to do so with Zephyr present was even worse. "I want people to remember my face and to be afraid of me. I don't want to be thought of as anything but a murderer and a thing of nightmares. I want to be seen on my terms, not anyone else's. I can't be vulnerable like that again."
Her face fell into her hands when she finally felt like she could stop speaking and her tears were starting to spill. She was feeling ashamed of herself again. Ashamed of the situations she'd been forced into and her inability to change or stop them. Ashamed that she wasn't able to protect herself from one crime or another. Ashamed that she'd had such glaring weaknesses and that people had taken advantage of them. She was supposed to be untouchable and she had failed.
I’m just a well-adjusted gal who likes to leave a serious amount of mayhem in her wake.
The entire time Isabel spoke Zephyr remained motionless, his expression hidden behind clasped hands as he listened to the soubrette’s story without a word, offering neither comfort nor judgment even when her tears began to fall. She wouldn’t care for his opinion, she certainty wouldn’t want his pity and she was too proud to accept his help.
So he gave her nothing, content to have simply provided an outlet for emotions which had obviously been buried for years and which were clearly taking their toll. With every passing moment the girls breaths grew shorter, her eyes shed more tears and her words became thicker as she tried to choke down the sobs until even that became too much and she finally began crying in earnest.
He’d no idea how much time had passed when Isabel’s sobs began to fade, it could have been minutes, it could have been an hour, he hadn’t tried to keep count. Something like this… you couldn’t bury your feelings forever, they came to the surface sooner or later and when they did all you could do was wait for them to pass.
Katrina had taught him that, years ago.
When Isabel’s breaths eventually calmed, Zephyr slowly started to move again, quietly offering his handkerchief to the soubrette when she couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze and giving her a few precious moments to clean her face while he gathered his thoughts.
While he’d looked into Isabel’s past and even seen part of it to some degree, it wasn’t the same as hearing it from the girl herself. Her thoughts and opinions coloured everything she said, her final words especially had been a veritable gold mine in terms of finally gaining some grasp of how her mind worked.
She believed her life had been a nightmare, hated it. Hated that she hadn’t been strong enough; that she’d tried so hard to stop the worst moments of her life but ultimately couldn’t. Couldn’t accept that there were things beyond her, only made her wish she was stronger. Strong enough to make everyone fear her; make them forget how afraid she herself had once been so that maybe she’d forget as well.
It was a mess, yet he couldn’t help but see a part of himself in it. When he’d first left home years ago he’d been drunk on his own power. He’d thought he was invincible, that he was strong enough to do whatever he wanted and had made a point of making sure people knew.
He’d been an idiot.
It’s amazing what a near death experience can teach you though. He’d realized how foolish it was to let the opinions of others influence him so easily. Come to comprehend that you didn’t need to change everyone’s view, only a few. Learned it was far better to be underestimated than feared.
Isabel hadn’t.
Taking a deep breath Zephyr closed his eyes briefly as he marshaled his thoughts, he’d likely only get one shot at this and need to make it count. “I can’t pretend to understand everything you’ve been through Isabel. Our lives have been different, each with their own challenges, but if there is one thing we have in common it’s that we both want to be strong, to be powerful.”
“There’s different kinds of power though, fear is one true but so is friendship, respect, religion, loyalty, love and yes even lust to name just a few. They’re all different ways of achieving the same goal; to control people, to make them do what you want. Why should you limit yourself to just one?
“You’re beautiful Isabel, you have to know that. There are women who’d kill to look like you, have you any idea how much influence that gives you, how much power? Not just with men either; there are so many insecure women in the world who are scared and jealous of those who look better than themselves. I’d wager you could make Miss Ralls green with envy with just a little effort.”
“Perhaps most importantly though, one type of power doesn’t preclude the other. Showing off your figure isn’t a weakness unless you want it to be. There’s no reason you can’t be fearsome and beautiful. Think about it, why shouldn’t you be both?”
Isabel stayed very quiet when Zephyr finally spoke up, the borrowed handkerchief being worried between her fingers. He probably wouldn't want it back until it had been washed, though at the same time she wasn't too concerned if he never got it back. Getting out of this particular spotlight and back to the Sanctuary was much higher on her list of priorities. This was just too embarrassing.
She knew very well that there were different kinds of power, but none had seemed so appealing as fear. She had no religion and commanded no loyalty. Respect was the same as fear to her. Love and lust had always been out of the question. Fear had been a constant in her life and it was one thing she knew inside and out. "Fear is what I know best. I don't know how to manipulate people any other way."
Making Maxine miserable was always of interest to her, but doing so with her looks had never once crossed her mind. Isabel didn't really think of herself in terms of attractive or unattractive, she simply was. Killers didn't tend to fall into categories of attraction, but instead were known for how dangerous they were or how high their body count was. Having Zephyr state that she was beautiful so matter-of-factly was a little jarring and she was mildly thankful that her face was so red already that if it got any redder it would likely go unnoticed.
It was hard not to admit that the prospect of being both beautiful and frightening was at least a little bit enticing, no matter how much she didn't want it to be. Zephyr had a way of putting things into perspective that she'd missed or avoided for years. That Miles kid certainly helped to back the idea in that dream she'd had. He'd been too busy drooling all over himself to realize how much danger he had really been in. She hadn't been shy during that premonition. In fact, her method of dress was nearly the complete opposite of what she wore currently and her attitude and outlook had changed almost as drastically. There had been no media to spread her image anymore. But more than that, she'd let people see more of her only if it was on her terms.
It was a rather obvious revelation, and therefore pretty pathetic once it came. She had to be the one to set the terms and conditions in order to feel more secure. That was why it was becoming so easy to share space with the young man across from her. Even to do something as awful as kiss him when she was the one to initiate it. She didn't want him to come near her or to touch her, but she could touch and she could invade personal space easily enough. That was when she was in control. When she was the one acting, she was the one in power, even if only for a moment. She could have smacked herself once she realized that fact. It was so simple.
"Probably a little late to try and be anything other than what I already am," she said, attempting a half-hearted smile as she spoke, though still not metting his gaze. She didn't want to cry anymore. It was time to try and toughen up again to pretend like she hadn't just spilled her guts out everywhere and turned into a blubbering wreck. "Kinda difficult to, uh... 'show off my figure' when people are already so frightened. It's hard to pay attention to much when you're scared. I worked hard for that. Might be too late to change my strategy. I don't know that I could even if I tried."
I’m just a well-adjusted gal who likes to leave a serious amount of mayhem in her wake.
Regarding Isabel pensively as he waited for her to respond Zephyr reflected that, for perhaps the first time, he was having trouble getting a read one her. The girl was normally an open book after all, hardly ever trying to hide her emotions or school her features; she practically wore her heart on her sleeve. One glance at her face was typically all it took to gain an idea of how she felt, if not what she was thinking.
Hunched over as she was now though, with her head bent and waist length hair falling forward to all but cover her features, it was almost impossible to gauge the brunette’s mood. Granted, her breathing told him she’d calmed to some degree, and he knew from the way her hands were constant fretting that she was still far from comfortable. However there was nearly nothing to give him any indication of whether his words were getting through… right until she found her voice.
"Fear is what I know best. I don't know how to manipulate people any other way." “It’s never too late to learn” He told her gently, his voice warming slightly in response to the despondent tone in the gamines words even as he let out an amused breath and a slight grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Trite I know, that doesn’t make it any less true however; would you have thought a year ago that you’d be able to handle a restraining collar, let alone dismantle it?”
There was silence again for a short moment after that and for a second he’d thought he might have lost her before his senses caught the faintest trace of smile as her lips curved upwards without ever lifting her head.
"Probably a little late to try and be anything other than what I already am,"
“Even if that were true, I’m not sure I see the problem; you’re already gorgeous after all, you turn heads without even realizing it.” The elemental spoke without any hint of false sincerity, though his grin did become slightly more pronounced when he saw the ingénue cheeks redden again behind her curtain of hair.
Shameless flattery? Perhaps, but then again Isabel needed an ego boost right now, even if it did embarrass her. Besides, nothing he’d said had been untrue. There was no denying the soubrette was stunning and she did turn heads, attached or otherwise. Honestly
"Kinda difficult to, uh... 'show off my figure' when people are already so frightened. It's hard to pay attention to much when you're scared. I worked hard for that. Might be too late to change my strategy. I don't know that I could even if I tried."
“Your poster sales beg to differ.” He quickly raised a hand, “I’m not saying you need to show that much by any means.” ‘Though it certainly wouldn’t hurt.’ He thought to himself. “I just don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit.”
“Yes, you’ve worked hard to get a dangerous reputation, but it’s not going to vanish overnight and there’s no reason you can’t build on it. I honestly think you’d be surprised at what you could achieve, in fact…”
The hessian paused, his thoughts finally catching with where his words were leading. Was it really a good idea to try this right now? After what she’d just been through? Perhaps he should give her a few days to- No, now was probably the best time, while the idea was still at the front of her thoughts and she was out of her shell.
“I’m willing to make a wager” He spoke slowly, doing his best not to smirk when Isabel’s finally started to lift her head as he curiosity got the better of her. “Two weeks away from the warehouse, no running, no digging, a chance to sleep in. If-”
He paused, raising a hand to make his point and ensure he had the soubrette’s full attention. “If, you can convince someone, without threats or violence, to give you their personal number purely because they want to see you again.”
“What do you say?”
Cafas: "Zephyr is the king of bad decisions, but if Sebby being weak to ghost is anything to go by, not so amazing at follow through."
Zephyr was really starting to lay it on thick. Beautiful. Gorgeous. Head-turning. The compliments were getting more ridiculous be the minute and yet it was getting more difficult for Isabel not to start grinning as they came. In part she was truly somewhat flattered, but mostly she'd never expected to hear someone like him speaking like that and as such it seemed a little silly. She knew he was most likely just trying to butter her up for something probably just so she'd stop crying and could be useful again, but it was making her fell a little better regardless.
And there he went, putting things into perspective and making his arguments sound all convincing again. He seemed to think it would be so easy to start modifying the way she acted around people, to change the way they saw her. She wasn't so convinced. She'd spent far too much time making sure that as many people knew her was possible and knew what she was capable of. No one in their right mind would be fooled by a low cut shirt and some shorts.
She wasn't so sure about the proposed wager, either. There was always some sort of catch involved in making deals with Zephyr. He always had some kind of curve ball to throw whenever she agreed to do anything with him in the past, mostly in the form of degrading costumes, though more horrifying things had happened as well. It sounded simple enough, but for someone like her it would be near impossible. She wasn't so sure she even wanted to attempt playing nice with strangers. She didn't like playing nice and she didn't like people.
And yet, the prospect of getting to relax and to sleep in undisturbed was awfully appealing. It felt like it had been ages since she'd actually been able to relax and not worry about him coming out of the woodwork to harass her. It was tempting, but still seemed unattainable.
"I think you're forgetting that my face has been plastered all over this city for years," she said, pushing some of her hair out of her face as she sat up a little straighter, contemplating the wager. "You're gonna be hard pressed to find a place that no one's gonna know who I am. People are dumb, but not too many of them are dumb enough to swap numbers with a murderer."
She heaved a sigh and debated whether or not to bite the bullet and give it a shot. Chances were it was a lose-lose situation either way and while two weeks of peace was insanely tempting, it wasn't all that long. She'd have to pick up where she'd left off sooner or later. "If I agree you can't get mad if things get messy. Someone gets a good look at me and we're gonna be dealing with cops before long." If he was allowed to set conditions like no threatening potential targets, then she should be able to set some as well. It was only fair. "And you're gonna owe me a drink."
The vast majority of the club was kept in darkness, there was no real need for it; the building had more than enough lights but it was all part of the atmosphere. The people who came here wanted to believe that they were different, that they were part of something special. So they came to this outwardly decrepit, yet inwardly well-kept former hotel where, with but the roll of a dice, one could find fortune on the third floor, the pleasures of the bar on the second or join the mass of bodies twisting in the music of the first floor.
It was called the Tomb.
As he kept a quiet eye on Isabel from the other end of the bar Zephyr found himself wishing, not for the first time, that the name wouldn’t become a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Still, there’d been no helping it, rightly or wrongly Isabel was infamous and as such there weren’t many places the girl could go without being recognized in one way or another. While there were things one could do to change their appearance nearly all of them required preparation and good deal of time, both of which had been in surprisingly short supply.
That being said, he couldn’t deny he’d been surprised at how the soubrette had turned out. Granted he had stressed that she’d need a different look if she wanted to have any chance of winning the wager but he’d still half expected her to come out with slacks and a button up, or perhaps even her old apron outfit, instead well… the hessian couldn’t help but think she might have more than just a chance.
If she didn’t kill anyone.
Shaking his head Zephyr finished his whiskey and signaled for another. He still couldn’t quite believe this was happening. A week ago, the thought of Isabel Duskmoor showing up at a bar and socializing, let alone trying to get another’s number would have made him laugh, yet it was actually happening and he found himself surprisingly torn between pity and amusement as he saw the soubrette down another drink by herself, seemingly trying to work up the courage to find someone to talk to.
She needn’t have bothered really. In a place like this a figure like hers didn’t go unnoticed for long and even as he watched the elemental saw one unwitting but hopeful individual detach itself from the crowd and join one of the city’s most feared killers.
He should have brought a camera.
Cafas: "Zephyr is the king of bad decisions, but if Sebby being weak to ghost is anything to go by, not so amazing at follow through."
Preparing to hold up her end of the wager had taken longer than Isabel had anticipated. Having to listen to Zephyr's suggestions on the matter was tiresome, but in the end they proved fairly useful. She'd never have thought of dying her hair on her own, the biggest change involving her hairstyle usually being the removal of her bow. The clothing she'd had to scrape together herself. She didn't trust what he'd have come up with for those particular suggestions based on past choices of his.
Red had been her initial choice for a new hair color, if for no other reason than to try and irritate Maxine in the off chance that the natural redhead spotted her out and about. However, in the dim lighting of a bar it wouldn't look different enough from her brown hair and so she'd gone for something a little more drastic and had settled on black. She'd had to use several bottles of the stuff to get through all of her hair and once she had finished she'd sworn never to bother with such nonsense again. It was far too much effort. She'd have to try and figure out an easier way to get her natural color back after the ordeal was over.
Clothing had managed to be even more difficult than her hair. Shopping wasn't exactly a past time she could get involved in due to her reputation and as such she'd been left to rummage around different rooms belonging to various Sanctuary residents to try and piece something together. She'd managed to obtain a pair of denim shorts easily enough, but finding a top proved to be more complicated. Eventually, though, she'd managed to find something and make any necessary modifications to be sure if fit her figure without messing things up too badly.
She'd had to give up her ribbon again as well, but all in all she thought it turned out pretty alright.
The bar that had been chosen seemed aptly named. She didn't expect to be leaving without at least one fight breaking loose, especially if alcohol was going to be involved And if she had any say in the matter, it definitely would be. She'd made sure that Zephyr bought her the drink she'd demanded prior to agreeing to the wager before settling herself at the bar with it and watching him wander off, presumably to keep an eye on her from a distance. She knew him too well to hope that he'd be leaving her completely alone.
The drink disappeared pretty quickly as she sat, nervously spinning the glass between her fingers. She still wasn't entirely comfortable in the outfit she'd wriggled into, but she kept reminding herself that it was on her terms. She was trying to take Zephyr's words to heart and keep her chin up. Showing herself off wasn't a weakness unless she wanted it to be, and she'd never want that. But still, she had to have a couple drinks in her at least before she tried actively pursuing anyone and a pilfered wallet would allow her to order herself at least a few before the money was gone.
She hadn't even downed her second drink before someone slid onto a stool very close to hers and rather loudly cleared his throat in order to get her attention. Her glass hit the bar a little too loudly as she put it down and turned to see who it was that had approached her, doing her best to affect a polite, curious smile. He'd barely gotten the tired 'Come here often?' line out before her glass was back at her lips and her head tipped back as she emptied it.
"Buy me another?" she asked, having to lean in closer to him to be heard over the music booming from downstairs. She didn't want to give him the chance to debate whether her hasty drinking was a discouraging sign or not. As far as she knew the more a woman drank the more men seemed to take interest, up until a certain point at least. And seeing as that was all she really had to go on, that's what she'd do. It probably would have helped to learn how to flirt before she'd let a certain someone drag her to the bar.
She'd made him buy her two more drinks before she figured she'd better slow down. It was bound to be a long night and getting plastered too quickly wouldn't be good. After trying to casually observe some of the other patrons in hopes of maybe picking up a few hints about what she should be doing, she'd settled for turning around in her seat and leaning her elbows back against the bar top, which as far as she could tell would draw more attention to her chest. Crossing one leg over the other helped to divide that attention. She didn't want too much focus on her face, lest someone recognize her despite her new hair color. Also it was kind of the point of her stupid outfit to draw attention.
All seemed to be going well as she nursed a drink and let him do most of the flirting, smiling and laughing at what she perceived to be the appropriate times. She'd even allowed him to not-so-subtly slide his stool closer to hers, presumably so he could better appreciate the view. She was in the process or reminding herself that she was in control of all the unusual attention when she felt a hand sliding up her thigh uninvited. In a flash his wrist was locked in her fingers and his elbow bent at an odd angle, all polite pretense draining from her face. That was not on her terms.
She leaned in real close to his ear and very cheerily threatened his manhood before releasing his wrist and allowing him to stumble off his stool and back into the crowd. The drink in her opposite hand quickly disappeared.
This was going to be a long night.
I’m just a well-adjusted gal who likes to leave a serious amount of mayhem in her wake.
Glancing at his watch Zephyr held back a yawn as he confirmed that, yes, it was in fact 2:43am and he hadn’t been mistaken the first three times he’d looked and which only went to show that time really did fly when one was having fun, or had an invested interest at least.
Still, wasn’t there a law somewhere which forced establishments like these to shut down before the sun came up? Granted the Tomb was the sort of place that only officially closed on the rare instances the police bothered to raid it but still, the elemental thought he’d be home hours ago, though in retrospect he probably should have known better, Isabel was nothing if not stubborn.
To be fair the girl had done quite well to start with, letting her various guests do most of the talking as they tried to ply her with one drink after another. She’d even flaunted her figure a few times which had drawn no little appreciation from a number of the clubs other customers.
Inevitably though, each potential paramour would try to press they’re suit, whether it was trying to hold hands, throwing a comforting arm around her shoulders or something rather less innocent, the moment they touched the soubrette it all ended in disaster as Isabel let them know in no uncertain terms just how much she valued her privacy.
It had been actually quite entertaining for the first hour or so, after that it had been like watching a train wreck; you knew it was going to be awful but you kept watching because part of you wanted to see just how bad it would be. It didn’t matter whether they were crude or charming, old or young, male or female- oh yes, there had been a number of women who’d convinced themselves they were just what Miss Duskmoor needed, one had even managed a chaste kiss before Isabel had rather forcibly removed the woman from her seat.
Still, it was now nearly 3:00am and he and Isabel were nearly the last people left at the bar and if the way she’d slumped over the counter was any indication, the soubrette was very clearly done for the night.
Holding back another yawn Zephyr left a loose collection of bills on the bar and made his way over to the intoxicated ingénue. “Come on Isabel, it’s time to go.” he told her gently as he tried to take the glass from her hand. “You made a good effort and you didn’t kill anyone, you should be proud of that.”
All that effort she'd put into looking the part for the night and it had amounted to a big fat nothing. Not that it was entirely her fault or anything. If so many people hadn't been so pushy or touchy maybe she'd have actually had a chance. But no, apparently the look but don't touch rule didn't apply in places like bars. She should have known better. Nothing good ever came her way when she started drinking, which was precisely why she'd begun doing it by herself. That way she would be left in peace and nothing could possibly go wrong. Except for having to get up the next morning with a terrible hangover and entertain Zephyr.
Speaking of the windbag, she'd almost forgotten that he'd brought her to the bar in the first place. At least he hadn't abandoned her half way through her endeavor. He had to have know it was a lost cause. She was bound to lose by the end of the night, though it didn't seem like he had anything to gain from her loss except for getting to continue tormenting her. There was always something that benefited him in such situations and had her head not been spinning so rapidly she might have been more suspicious about the wager in hindsight.
Her head lifted from the bar wearily when he came to claim her. There was no way for her to tell what time it was, but it must have been late since so many people had cleared out. Not that the time particularly mattered. She was tired enough that she could have crawled into bed even if it was the middle of the afternoon. Not killing people was exhausting, and while she probably should have been proud as he stated, she didn't feel much of anything except sick to her stomach.
She let the glass slide out of her fingers, though she somehow managed to knock it directly into her lap as she struggled to get off of the bar stool and onto her feet. She gave a noise somewhere between disappointment and disgust and as carefully as she could she kicked the glass out from under her feet. There was mostly only water left in the thing, but her clothes ended up wet either way and it was not a pleasant sensation.
"I don' think I wanna do this again," she whined as she navigated her way around the bar stool and away from the bar, though she didn't get very far before she sought out Zephyr's arm for support. The room had begun to tilt dangerously when she stood and if she fell she wasn't so sure she'd be able to get back up without some help. She very much hoped he wouldn't be leaving her to her own devices once they got out onto the street. "I don' feel s'good."
I’m just a well-adjusted gal who likes to leave a serious amount of mayhem in her wake.
There was, Zephyr thought irritably, a certain irony to his situation as he half dragged, half carried, Isabel’s inebriated form down the street, one hand holding her arm across his shoulders while the other slipped around her waist and occasionally jabbed her kidneys whenever the brunette threatened to fall asleep.
There were likely any number of men who’d gladly trade their right arm to be in the elemental’s shoes right now just for a chance to get close to someone with Duskmoor’s figure. They’d imagine how warm and soft she’d feel as she leant against them, the various unwitting views they might get as clothing became suspiciously disheveled, they might even delude themselves into thinking about how grateful she’d be when she found herself in a bed.
They never thought about how far they needed to carry her drunk ass.
Or how much said ass weighed.
That wasn’t to say Isabel was fat, far from it actually; the last few weeks at the warehouse had managed to put her in surprisingly good shape without losing any of her curves. No, the problem was that those selfsame curves, while undoubtedly appealing, also added no small amount of weight. Given that the hessian could barely do a pushup let alone a pull up, this presented something of a problem.
Admittedly he could have just flown the girl back to Sanctuary, and in fact that had been his original plan. Unfortunately NYC had something of a reputation for being the ‘city that never sleeps’ and had apparently chosen tonight to demonstrate just what an apt reputation it was. Not only were the main streets themselves full of inane drunks and other undesirables but five occupied back alleys and eight concussed muggers later, Zephyr had finally forced himself to give up on finding an appropriately secluded area to take off.
Annoyingly, his backup plan had suffered similar drawbacks; after managing to hail one of the city’s innumerable cabs, they’d barely gone five blocks before the driver pulled one abrupt stop too many and Isabel promptly spilled her guts and redecorated the interior. After that it wasn’t so much a case of being kicked out as it was trying to escape.
He never wanted to deal with enclosed spaces and projectile vomit ever again.
Ever.
By the time he’d picked both Isabel and himself up from the curb his jacket was practically ruined and one of shoes were waterlogged after stepping in a deceptively deep puddle. He’d just begun to consider the pros and cons of upending a few cars as a distraction to get airborne when he’d realized they’d been left at the front of a hotel.
Less than five minutes later and Zephyr had managed to check them into a reasonably upscale hotel room. ‘Upscale’ in this case meaning round the clock room service which get the hessian a fresh pot of coffee every other hour and a large bathroom where Duskmoor was currently curled up, clutching the toilet as though it were a stuffed animal.
Letting out a short yawn Zephyr glanced at his watch, quickly wished he hadn’t, and finished tying the soubrettes hair back with a pair of rubbed bands borrowed from the front desk. It wasn’t even 4:00am and judging from how the gamine had had to drink it would be hours before she was anything approaching conscious and even longer before she was sober.
It was going to be a long morning.
Cafas: "Zephyr is the king of bad decisions, but if Sebby being weak to ghost is anything to go by, not so amazing at follow through."
The night had not gone so very smoothly. Not that Isabel had particularly expected to have an easy time spending hours at a bar surrounded by grabby strangers, however her expectations for trouble had been in the form of law enforcement. Instead Zephyr dragged her all over creation before settling into a hotel room where she promptly had to stick her head in a toilet.
She let Zephyr tie her hair back before demanding that he leave her alone as soon as there was a pause in her stomach trying to empty itself. It was going to be bad enough having to share a room with him so she didn't need him hovering over her while all of the drinks she'd consumed made a reappearance. She wasn't going to be making such stupid wagers with him anymore. Seeing her so miserable was probably his payoff for her failing.
It felt like forever before her stomach finally began to calm down, though a dull ache had begun to settle behind her eyes instead. She'd gotten her hand on one of the two glasses on the bathroom counter that the hotel provided for rinsing purposes after teeth had been brushed and made a point to drink a glassful of water every now and again. The first few hadn't wanted to stay down, but eventually she managed to keep one down and then a second and third. Hopefully it would hep a little bit the next morning, but she wasn't going to hold her breath.
By the time she felt like it would be safe enough to venture out of the bathroom she was so tired that she had to debate whether or not it was even worth the effort. However she knew that if she stayed on the tile floor she'd be dealing with additional aches and pains when she woke up and that was not at all appealing. Potentially being woken up in the shower or something was equally as awful a possibility, and one she wouldn't put past Zephyr.
Slowly getting to her feet and then waiting a moment to be sure that her stomach wouldn't be protesting the movement she then proceeding out into the main area of the hotel room. It was fairly spacious with a small couch and a matching chair, a desk by the window and a television set into an entertainment center that doubled as a chest of drawers. And only a single bed. He freakin' would.
"Notta goddamn word," she grumbled as she unsteadily made her way to the unoccupied side of the bed. She doubted anyone would be at all intimidated by a young woman that couldn't even walk straight, least of all the someone she had to room with, but she was gonna give it a shot anyhow.
What made matters worse was that before she'd even thought of vacating the bathroom, she'd already stripped down to her bra and underwear. Having had so many drinks and then had them force their way back out had spiked her temperature to some degree and the form fitting top had begun feeling more and more uncomfortable by the minute. Not only that but she'd managed to spill a good amount of water down her front when trying to retrieve the glass to drink from. Her shorts had still been damp from tipping over the drink in the bar. There was no way she was going to try sleeping in wet clothing.
"One word an' I'm gon' hafta kill you an' I 'm too tired fer that shit."
I’m just a well-adjusted gal who likes to leave a serious amount of mayhem in her wake.