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.
Posted by Noel on Apr 9, 2017 12:46:41 GMT -6
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Whatever Alpha was up to, Noel couldn't guess.
She remained perfectly still for as long as she could stand it, but after a while watching a guy check his email was less important than the building ache in her chest. She devolved into a coughing fit that ended with Noel groggily getting to her feet. There were socks on her feet, she noticed.
In fact, she had been stuffed into some ill-fitting clothes. Noel was pretty sure she'd lost some weight. She certainly felt... off. A look out the window showed spring was in full swing. And was that the ocean?
Had she wiped someone's memory? Or had she lost a few weeks? She checked her arms, but there were no hints. She did feel the pull of medical tape and gauze on her chest as she moved. Not too long, then. Noel touched a gauze pad though her baggy tee shirt. The cop, Georgie, had shot her. She had gone to the hospital and that had been worse than her time with Alpha.
Then, this man had stumbled his way through explaining that he had come to get her out.
The evidence was stacking up that this was not an Alpha special. Probably. Alpha had never managed something this long-running or continuous without her finding a way to poke a hole in it. Though, one time the hole was no tattoos... and now there really were no tattoos.
"This is seriously messed up." The words that came out of her mouth sounded almost like an alien StarWars language with the mixture of Finnish, Spanish, and the odd English word.
Noel zeroed in on a speaker when her words were echoed back from somewhere in the office, all in one language. Messed up. She mouthed the words in an attempt to keep the phrase in her head before she turned her attention to the dark-haired man behind the desk.
"What do you want?" A few moments and a female voice echoed her question so that he could understand. One eyebrow went up. Well?
Posted by Tempest on Apr 9, 2017 23:21:29 GMT -6
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Devon’s blue eyes traveled to one of the sofas in his office. She was coughing, which either meant she was awake or waking up. The body rarely coughed in its sleep without some sort of half-aware grogginess. From what Devon had read and ascertained on Noel, she’d want to review her surroundings as she became aware. He put aside his keyboard, stood up, and started around the desk when she slowly sat up.
He glanced out either side of the office. Floor to ceiling windows and glass doors led out to the wrap around patio of his office here at Hadden’s Havens: Plum Island. His desk sat against a reclaimed surf wood wall. The opposite wall’s office doors were shut, though a foyer to the elevator lay beyond. Most of the office was overstuffed chairs, sofas, a couple tables, and of course his desk. It was important to have prime lounge space for conversations, conversations like this one.
The table nearest Noel had water, soda, fruit, crackers, granola bars, but also individual wrapped candy like chocolate bars, peanut butter cups, hard candy… He wasn’t sure what Noel would like and honestly, he wasn’t sure she would either but what he’d read. This would be interesting.
>> "This is seriously messed up."
Devon waited the moment as the speakers in his office translated. The system he had here was working overtime to translate her mismatched language. He chuckled, nodding, and smiling warmly in agreement. She wasn’t wrong, but he wondered what for her was normal.
>> "What do you want?"
A few steps got him to the other side of the desk though he didn’t lean back against it as he normally might have. “Many things. I wanted to get you out of the hospital and away from the CIA. You have your freedom from them, but I am supposed to help you. I want to help you and I hope we can discuss what kind of help you’d like. If you are hungry of thirsty, please eat or drink. They should be safe,” he gestured. “My name is Devon Hadden and we’re at my business’s main location. We’re in New York still, just east off of Long Island. Please feel free to ask any questions.”
As he stopped he looked to the speaker and then a masculine voice repeated his words in Finnish. He smiled gently and gestured again to the snacks and drinks.
Posted by Noel on Apr 10, 2017 8:29:19 GMT -6
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This was way better than prison which was what she deserved and expected. Ever since she'd been a pain to officer... detective... whoever the bad day cop had been, she'd felt the sword of Damocles looming. That had all started way back in the fall.
Way back when she'd still been an assassin.
Noel wasn't sure what she was now. It all depended on what the price of this freedom was.
She cringed around the eyes when the Finnish came through the speakers. Most of it was understandable. She was pretty sure she got the rest from context, but this whole setup was ridiculous. She could fix this. It's just that no one was willing to let her peek into their memories. Not that she could blame them.
The dark-haired man, Devon Hadden he helpfully reminded her, was evasive at best. Or maybe easing her in to the situation.
"You are starting with the fluff." She did appreciate knowing where she was. There was lots of ocean. He could have flown her anywhere and she wouldn't have had a say in the matter. To still be in or near New York... that seemed like an interesting choice to Noel. "It's okay to be fluffy, but I need to know what's to become of me. Your expectations from me. And I would like to brush my teeth."
She sighed and went to pour herself some water while her translation explained for her. She was careful, but shaky. Just standing was making her feel fuzzy around the edges, but she didn't know if she was allowed to sit or how strict everything was.
Really... what was stopping her from walking right through this guy and going outside? The sun was really tempting.
Posted by Tempest on Apr 11, 2017 11:42:36 GMT -6
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Devon watched her go for the water. It was important she trust the food and drink they provided. That was a good sign. He grimaced at the fluff comment and then chuckled at the rest of the translation. That told him something: she was accustomed to situations like this and just wanted to get it over with. That was saddening.
“I’ll have a toothbrush sent up for you,” Devon replied, taking out his cell phone and texting an assistant downstairs. “I’m hoping we can actually let you go rest in a room after we’ve chatted. My expectations include us talking out how to get you what you need, that neither of us attack one another, that we can establish some trust, and we find a way to get you into a situation where you won’t have to have events like this again.”
A pause allowed the system to translate but he frowned. He continued, “It sounds like they happen too often by the way you’re talking. My treatment here is for psychological disorders, substance abuse, but also self-help classes, relaxation and spa treatments for stress, etc. Clearly you are your own person; I don’t believe you sick, but certainly the memory issue creates problems. I want you to be able to always be your own person. Sorry if my words seem planned or structured. From my understanding your mutation causes you discomfort if the words are not true and honest, though truth is separate from fact. What other questions can I answer for you?”
Devon took a slow breath and let the system translate again for her. He smiled and looked to her with a questioning tilt of his head.
Posted by Noel on Apr 11, 2017 12:18:47 GMT -6
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He was having a toothbrush sent up. So a) he was in charge enough to boss people around and b) she wasn't going to get to brush her teeth now.
Her teeth were really yucky.
Also, c) there was an upper level. She filed that one away in case it became important.
At least he got down to business quickly. Noel could appreciate that. "I need post-it notes in several different colors, a sharpie, and a pen." She ticked things off of the fingers of her hand as they occurred to her. Physical amenities, at least, were easy to request.
"I need regular access to someone who does not mind sharing their memories, especially memories of their language formative years. If they are not trained in martial arts or murder, that's better." She figured the murder thing would only be a plus in his thinking. In reality, the human mind was supposed to only be able to clearly recall about 10 years worth of memories. She could only afford so much overlap in her head and she knew what kinds of things she lost most or first.
"I need routine and structure, and I need you, or whoever is really in charge, to be clear with me. And—" She swallowed, hesitating only for a moment and then stopping when the translation kicked in. Ah. Right. She watched him with bald interest and no shame. She didn't have any pride left at this point. What was the point? "And I want to go outside. I want to feel sunlight, real sunlight on my skin."
So. What could he answer for her? Plenty. But most importantly, "I need help... to know what's real and what's right." Knowing the veracity of a thing did not define its morality.
Posted by Tempest on Apr 11, 2017 12:37:43 GMT -6
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Devon listed patiently, texting at first when the physical items were translated but he stopped as she got into the needing someone to share memories with her. It was terrifyingly sad really. This wasn’t even a case of amnesia where the person had lost their memory due to some accident. This was her life, what she was accustomed to, and she’d learned how to respond every time she got in this state.
“Okay, starting from the end… We aren’t really in my office,” Devon clarified. “For both of our safety we’re in a training facility within my business here. It’s for mutants to practice their abilities so they can be comfortable and gain enough control to feel okay out amongst the public. My business is for humans and mutants alike though I’m not advertising this facility exists, not yet anyway. I chose my office for the appearance as it’s a welcoming place and has fairly good ambiance. I’m hoping shortly we both trust each other enough that we can go to my office for real.”
“I’ll happily go with you outside too. We can today. I’ve cleared today and tomorrow to work with you and get you what you need. Once we’ve got the foundation of this working, we can spend time simply outside sunbathing, talking movies, whatever you want. I’ve got Netflix if you know what that is so you can catch up on movies, television… Sorry probably not very important.”
He licked his lips, “We can plan to talk at certain times throughout the day, keep a regular text message conversation going… Actually I found a component for a cell phone that helps diabetics track their sugar through a blood drop. You can also use it for biometric control, which is more useful than simply finger prints considering it’s easy to duplicate that and well, mutants.” He nodded slowly, smirking. “Who knows who is trying to look like who sometimes anymore. You could even lock some programs for private messages to yourself that only your blood could unlock. I’ve been looking it up. Corporations do it for legal documents and big contracts.”
“I’m in charge of the business here and I’ll encourage my staff and my friends to be as clear with you as possible,” he nodded. “As for someone to share memories with, please forgive me but I’m not ready for that. I’ll see if we have any volunteers first, and then if not, go from there. One of my coworkers and friends might be willing. She has a mutant ability also involving memory.” Maybe Secret Keeper could help her? He’d already briefed her and she seemed intrigued. And thankfully she wasn’t trained in murder… Devon thought it best to leave that comment alone for now.
“Post-it notes, sharpies, pens, peanut butter, bread, and fluff are on their way with the toothbrush, floss, and tooth paste. I don’t know if you actually like fluff but with your comments about it, I thought it might be an associative memory you may not even be aware of. So you can try it and if you don’t like it, absolutely fine, you don’t need to it,” he smiled gently.
She probably didn't breathe for a full half minute which ended with her touching the gauze pad at her chest again. She was shot. Getting shot happened after she left Alpha. He didn't lie. She couldn't match the words up exactly, and her Finnish wasn't comprehensive any more. But nothing he said registered as untrue. So the translation should have been reliable.
Noel rolled her lips together and took a shaky breath.
Okay. He put her in this training facility because he didn't trust her. For both of their safety, he had said.
"Thank you for telling me. We don't have to go to your office." She wasn't happy about it, but it was better than restraints and blindfolds. This deception was just a looser kind of the same. "So what can I do to earn your trust?" This was a tired game for her. At least he'd promised to let her outside supervised.
The fuzz around the edges of her vision was getting worse. Noel took a long drink from her glass while they played translation tag.
>Once we’ve got the foundation of this working, we can spend time simply outside sunbathing, talking movies, whatever you want. I’ve got Netflix if you know what that is so you can catch up on movies, television… Sorry probably not very important.”
"Not important, no, but I'm not a chair or a filing cabinet. I am useful, but I still have feelings and a need to unwind." She had a serious weakness for fantasy, romance, and incredibly bad sci-fi. The less realistic, the better. She couldn't taste a lie through a screen and so the experience was entirely escapist, probably more so than for most.
Goodness, he was... peppy. Or maybe enthusiastic was a better descriptor. Certainly he was pleased with himself and his own cleverness.
"My last phone was similar. I'm familiar with the technology." Assassins and secrecy and yadda yadda. She wasn't enthused about bleeding every time she needed to unlock her phone, but at this point everybody sure wanted her to. "My arresting officer let a bunch of children throw it into the rain. I would rather not be entirely dependent on any one source of information." He couldn't have known that was her world, still, he had started a whole chain of events that even she could not predict.
>“As for someone to share memories with, please forgive me but I’m not ready for that. I’ll see if we have any volunteers first, and then if not, go from there..."
"That's all I can ask." And asking was all she could do for now.
> “Post-it notes, sharpies, pens, peanut butter, bread, and fluff... How’s all of that sound?”
"Sticky." She replied, deadpan for a few moments before she shook her head and broke into the barest amusement. "It was a joke." And this interpersonal crap was exhausting. "I avoid strong flavors when I'm working, but my personal time is another matter. I'll try your... fluff if that will make you happy."
Posted by Tempest on Apr 11, 2017 16:20:22 GMT -6
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>> "Thank you for telling me…”
“You’re welcome,” Devon said quickly, nodding. He didn’t answer her question on trust right away, instead explaining his points and then lettering her continue. She was thirsty; she’d likely want a large selection of beverages to try to help remember what she enjoyed.
A faint nod was given as the comment about needing to unwind was translated. At first he thought she wanted a chair but then the translation helped clarify. She isn’t one. Right, she’s not furniture; she’s a person. He hoped she felt like one. Her responses were proving insightful; he was impressed again by her handling of this situation. She had done this all before.
Devon half-frowned at her comment about the phone and that it’d gotten thrown away. He nodded slowly and relaxed his shoulders. He’d thought that a good idea, but there were other options. They had other options like services checking in with her, but then if someone found out above them, they could exploit them. Hopefully Haven could provide some support there.
When the translator said “Sticky” through the speaker, he narrowed his eyes but chuckled as she confirmed the joke. The follow up though drew a quirked brow and was a little confusing. His eyes widened suddenly, “I’m sorry. This isn’t about making me happy. Don’t do anything you don’t want to do.”
He shook his head as he made a clear waving motion of his hand. “You don’t have to do anything to please me. Nothing. I need you to display trust, a rational control of yourself, and we need to verify you are not a danger to yourself or anyone else. With that I can release you under your own cognizance provided we have regular check-ins, which I hope will help benefit your memory concerns,” Devon clarified. “I’m a psychologist. My job is about helping people. This company is about helping people. This facility is specifically set up to help mutants. We need to find what helps you.”
There was an odd tone in the room and Devon looked to the doors to the hallway as it were. “Yes please,” he called while touching something on his phone. The door opened with an older man in his mid 50’s appearing to stand in a wood-paneled hallway. He held a tray of bread, toothpaste, and the other asked items. Was that mahogany? Teak? Devon had encouraged avoiding metalline walls for the training areas. This wasn’t a science fiction convention; it was a treatment center and spa.
“Hi Devon, you asked for these?” he asked.
“Yes, Mr. Shaw, thanks,” Devon smiled, walking forward. “Actually…” he sighed. “Program off,” he said while touching at his phone again. Suddenly they were in a large paneled room. Separate synthetic plastic pieces plated the floor, walls, and ceiling. A few diodes and lights slowly receded away. Devon was far closer to the door than he’d been a few moments ago.
“Would you like me to carry thee wherever you’re headed?” he asked. The translation continued.
“No, no. I will, or she will, or whatever she wants,” Devon gestured to Noel. “Noel, this is ‘Bastian Shaw. ‘Bastian, this is Noel. She is relearning languages.”
‘Bastian bowed his head grinning as Devon took the tray. “Nice to meet you, miss.”
Devon inhaled slowly and turned to Noel, “How about we take these up to my actual office? We can eat and chat on the patio. For real.” A thought seemed to occur to him as he glanced back to ‘Bastian, “And maybe I might ask you something later this afternoon if you’re free, ‘Bastian?”
“Happy to help, Devon,” he nodded. “Nice to meet you, miss.” Back down the hallway he went provided there was nothing more.
Devon turned his blue eyes back on Noel in question.
> “I’m sorry. This isn’t about making me happy. Don’t do anything you don’t want to do.”
She opened her mouth and then shut it again. He had declared himself the king of this domain. If she wasn't here to make him happy, what was she doing here?
”Usually when I change hands, I have to prove myself.”
He looked visibly upset. Was the translator working right? She hadn't considered that it could be messing up what she said…
Hadden tried to clarify further. She didn't have to do anything for him? Ah, but then he immediately started telling her what she needed to do. That was better. That was how this life worked.
Okay. Step 1: Display trust. ”Sunglasses. If my power to erase memories is out of control, polarized lenses are the cleanest answer. Just put something physical between my eyes and yours.”
Step 2: Rational control of herself. ”I am in full control of my faculties both mental and physical. I won't be running a marathon anytime soon, but this won't kill me. Or you.”
Step 3 was harder: Prove you are not a danger to yourself or anyone else. Noel worried at her lower lip with her teeth. ”Do you want me to forget my training? I’m… not sure what would be left.”
Well, she had to ask and clarify if he wasn't going to come out and say it.
“I’m a psychologist.” Okay. Sure. She nodded along with the translation.
> “My job is about helping people. This company is about helping people. This facility is specifically set up to help mutants.” Sure. There were lots of ways to help people. Sometimes the answer was to help them off a cliff.
>”We need to find what helps you.” Ohhhhh. He wasn't a crime lord or a handler. He was a some kind of gentle soul psychologist. No wonder his eyes had tried to jump out of his face. Man, if this was a looney bin, she'd never been to one so nice as this one, before…
She inspected the office with a new perspective as Hadden dealt with his man and the translation lagged behind their quick exchange. He sure was rolling in the crime lord vibe for some bleeding heart… Besides, hadn't he asked for those to be sent 'up’? So… did that mean they were not on the ground floor?
He did something and the surroundings went away. Poof. No more ocean. Hadden physically moved without moving. Protection. For both of them, he said. She hadn’t known what that meant until now, but it was clever. She would have decked nothing but air, she assumed, if it had come to blows.
The man ‘Bastian was smiling at her and she didn’t care for it because she didn’t understand it.
>“Nice to meet you, miss.” ”Mutual.” The lie made her disgust evident, but it wasn’t worth explaining.
> “How about we take these up to my actual office? We can eat and chat on the patio. For real.” He had another moment with his serving man. Okay. Trust fund baby or he married into the Yakuza, she decided. And he may be innocent and wish to keep that for himself. She could shield him from that, if that’s what she was here for. It might even be worth it.
He looked at her for… what? Permission?
”By all means, please lead the way.” The translation echoed behind her. Would they be able to talk on his patio or did that matter?
Posted by Tempest on Apr 12, 2017 14:13:21 GMT -6
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>> ”Usually when I change hands, I have to prove myself.”
Devon visibly bent at the chest like his heart had imploded when he heard those words echo from the speaker. He moved on considering the topics and not wanting to dwell on the past; he was probably talking too much actually. However, those words weighed on him.
She had quick responses for most things he said that he was just now processing after hearing the system struggle to catch up. That was difficult. He nodded slowly at her as his lips twisted; clearly the man was thinking.
>> ”By all means, please lead the way.”
“Okay,” he said and held the tray tightly with one hand. The other fished into his pocket and pulled out the small bag with his sunglasses. “I use mine to hide my eyes sometimes too. You can have mine,” he held them out to her and looked away so as not to meet her gaze. They were nice sunglasses though they looked a few years worn. The tip of one end was broken and there were some scratches, but the bag showed he cared for them as best he could. “And no, don’t forget anything unless you want to. That’s your decision.”
Once she’d taken them he headed into the hallway, still carrying the tray. “Let’s get up there then,” he said eagerly. In the elevator he had to put his hand on the keypad and he typed something into his phone. They went to the 6th floor. The building was more horizontal than vertical with a few separate outbuildings and cabanas for longer term guests.
The elevator opened to a foyer and then double doors to an office much like the training facility had looked like, though a bit more lived in. The bar had booze on it. There were three TVs on one wall showing a few stations of news. The doors to the patios were open letting in the spring breezes. Sunshine warmed the space as Devon went to the matching table from earlier and put the tray down.
A few taps into his phone and he said, “Test.” The speakers in the room echoed it back in Finnish. “Okay, we’re good, “ he nodded. “I want to be clear that you’re only in my hands in a legal health way. The state signed you into my custody to help you. My company here and the Haven organization fought to get you away from… whatever that was. You don’t have to prove yourself to me. What I asked for is from a mental health and recognizance perspective.”
“So that being said, want to grab some food, a drink, and we can talk on the patio?” he asked, then quickly pointed to a side door. "There's a small bathroom in there. You can brush your teeth."
She accepted the sunglasses and hesitated before slipping them on indoors. She didn't have to do what she didn't want, but there were still some expectations. Her eyes flicked back and forth for a breath before settling. This was the kind of crap she hated most. Mixed signals.
And with the comment about his eyes, she supposed it was safe to assume he was a mutant.
Noel passed her now empty water cup to 'Bastian before they left the plastic plated image room. She folded her arms and followed Hadden to the elevator without complaint. Well, actually crossing her arms turned out to hurt. She settled for holding her gauze pad through her shirt and waiting. It wasn't too many floors up.
If he expected questions, she didn't even know where to start. Her mind was buzzing with the incorrect assumptions she'd made and how to reconcile them. He was so much quieter than before. She had probably scared him somehow. If she'd known this was a crazy bin, she wouldn't have let him know about half of any of that. And why the heck was this place so well funded?
She hesitated when the doors to the elevator opened to same image as they had been experiencing in the room below. No. He'd said that was his office already. It was just so surreal.
Noel checked her arm. No tattoo. Her eyebrows bunched behind the sunglasses, but she followed him into the room because she still had one hand on her healing wound. This was real, as far as she knew. This was not Alpha.
She busied herself by taking in the differences while Devon worked out the translation issue. This office was less perfect. More clutter. And when she finally got the chance to go brush her teeth she jumped on it. She was in and out in less than 3 minutes, including washing her hands. The toothbrush she traded for the permanent marker that was still on the tray.
Devon was already on the patio when Noel knocked on the threshold before joining him.
The sun felt amazing. Though she'd been outside some time sort of recent, she hadn't seen the sun then. And she wasn't even sure how long it'd been before then... Fall? The air smelled amazing, despite this still being New York. She could see the coast, but she sure couldn't smell it. Her face turned toward it like a sunflower and something relaxed inside of her.
"This has to be real. You just can't replicate this feeling."
Devon had made a plate of food for himself and pour himself some water. He’d brought the platters outside, not assuming what to make for Noel’s plate though he did pour her a glass of water. It was a naturally nice spring day; the sun was bright and warm. He didn’t need to change anything, though he likely would have for Noel.
She came out and Devon smiled almost as warmly as the sun. He’d also fetched another pair of sunglasses; it was bright outside after all. He sipped his water, watching her simply relax and enjoy the moment before she spoke. The system seemed to have little issue with this statement. Nothing too complicated though Devon understood what she was saying before he heard the translation.
“It is real. We’re outside on the patio of my office, overlooking the connection of the Long Island and Block Island sounds,” Devon smiled. He stood and pointed, “That’s Niantic, Connecticut. That’s Fisher’s Island. Block Island is that way.”
Sitting back down, he picked up a baby carrot and stuck it in his mouth, chewing quietly. Blue eyes widened and he gestured to the small bottle near her place setting, “Those are over the counter pain killers. Should be safe for you if you want to take one or two with whatever you eat.”
Posted by Noel on Apr 13, 2017 14:25:14 GMT -6
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Dec 21, 2021 8:26:40 GMT -6
Ghost
She stayed with her eyes closed just soaking in the sun for a long, still moment. It was real. The words were clean. True. She wiped her cheeks with her palms to dry the tears that were already running. "I didn't think I'd get to go outside again." At least she hadn't expected to do so while free, let alone on a beautiful patio overlooking the beautiful ocean.
Noel wiped her cheeks again and looked eagerly where he pointed. She'd never known there was a place like this, tucked away but still so close. What an interesting respite. As Hadden sank onto his chair a thought occurred to Noel. She noticed that he had his own sunglasses now.And she'd seen the sunglasses that she was currently wearing come out of his pocket. They were worn and used-- probably his. She could taste them and circumvent all this misunderstanding.
Except that he'd declined that avenue of her power use already. He might not be able to stop her in time, but it would be a breach of confidence if she did.
He mentioned the painkillers and that's what decided her. She wanted to be reliable and trustworthy more than she wanted to know. So far, Hadden had done nothing but tell her the truth. He had been reliable. It was her own fault that had confused him for some other kind of person...
She took 2 pills to stave off the grayish haze at the edges of her vision that heralded an impending migraine. After that she pulled only the blandest foods from the tray despite the raging void that was in her stomach. "It's not a diet." She explained and his phone translated. "I would eat almost everything here, but I really need to know what's true. For whatever reason, my mind interprets the validity of a statement into a flavor." Hence the great oral hygiene.
Actually... "Do you know what I can do, Hadden?" Asking him straight out about what he intended for her hadn't helped so she thought to start from a different angle. She would see what he knew first.
Posted by Tempest on Apr 13, 2017 19:42:15 GMT -6
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Feb 3, 2024 10:42:17 GMT -6
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Devon grew quiet, saying nothing more as he noticed tears came to her eyes. He frowned at the first translation; it was hard not to be sad at such words. However, that frown quickly became a thin line as his brow knitted together in anger. Who had done this to her? She was remarkable to survive in such conditions; it was amazing how prepared she was.
He couldn’t really fault her for any anger or sarcasm, but she didn’t have any. She was resolute, trying to deal with the situation. That was her life.
She took some medication and then some lean chicken breast, some vegetables… He nodded slowly at the diet comment, though the statements following helped make it clearer. Many people chose food as a simple, sometimes comforting pleasure. There were studies about how deprivation of sensual experience dulled the mind and created varied antisocial behaviors. Again, she’d trained herself for these situations.
>> "Do you know what I can do, Hadden?"
“I believe so,” Devon nodded slowly as he stood. He spoke as he walked into his office again, “I know you can sense truth through the taste of words. The dishonest ones are foul and there’s a range presumably based on innuendos, half-truths, etc. I know you can read and erase memories through your sight with eye contact. Somehow, and I assume it’s the erasing of other memories, impacts your own.”
Back onto the patio he came, putting a small, new bag of individual tissues on the table for her. There were many in the cabinet; tears flowed commonly for happy and for sad reasons. Devon kept them on hand for both. This was a self-help and treatment center after all.
“You have a remarkable gift,” Devon stated. “Though clearly it’s greatly impacted your life. I’m very impressed by how you’ve learned to adapt to it and where it puts your life from day to day. I apologize that the set up I used put you in such a position. Honestly, the report they gave me made you seem far more violent. I assume being used and treated this way commonly can’t help.”
The phone translated. The speakers on the patio spoke Finnish to her. Devon waited for them to finish and held up a hand to add something more, “I will promise to speak only the truth to you so that you can eat what you want. If you want to wait until you feel more comfortable, I understand, but I wanted to give you that promise should you have an eye on those desserts.” He grinned, glancing over to the small sweets tray. “The small carrot cakes are delicious.”
Posted by Noel on Apr 13, 2017 20:26:01 GMT -6
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Dec 21, 2021 8:26:40 GMT -6
Ghost
Yes. He seemed to have the measure of her power, even if the details were a bit off. The words tasted true despite them being untrue. He believed what he said.
But her power...? It wasn't a good one. "A tool that can be kept clean. Or clean other problems." She was terribly matter of fact. This was something she had been told many times. "I can be very precise."
A secret got leaked? One visit from Noel and that wouldn't be the case any more. If she managed to kiss them first, she wouldn't even hypothetically lose anything.
"Erasure is crippling. Like Alzheimer's. I lose time. Pain can set me off and it doesn't matter how much precision I have when it's an accident." She tried to explain patiently and clearly enough that the translator would get through it all. Just admitting that made her nervous. Alzheimer's patients could often become belligerent when disoriented. The parallels were pretty strong. A shadow of something half forgotten distracted her. Alzheimer's. Someone had something like that to her once. That was when she had started doing her routines and her tattoos. Which reminded her...
Noel set down her fork and offered the permanent marker to Hadden. "Would you write my name? Here?" She turned her wrist to him and indicated where. Her left wrist. It didn't work for her because she was left handed. That had been intentional. "This is my touchstone. I've learned to check here for notes and things that are important. I would like to have a reminder of who I am." And a reminder that this was not a simulation.
The promise... it was a nice gesture, but she would stick to the plain food until she was on her own time just so she could establish a baseline for their interactions. Besides, she would take a Diet Coke over a carrot cake any day.
"You do something too. Mutant power." Noel tapped her sunglasses. Well, his actually. "You said that you need to hide your eyes sometimes."