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.
Zephyr’s genial but self assured mien remained unchanged as he watched the expression of his beauteous blonde charge gradually transition from one of vast reluctance to merely mild hesitation as the gamines azure gaze sought the mercenary’s own features before presumably unearthing some form of reassurance as she tentatively reached stepped closer and accepted the elementals outstretched hand with a poorly veiled air of trepidation.
Nothing happened.
Outwardly the elemental affected an amenable yet bemused demeanour as he glanced down meaningfully at their joined hands. He was attempting to assist the girl after all and given the timorousness with which she employed her own abilities positive reinforcement was likely the only method his blonde bombshell of a protégé would respond to until she gained some measure of confidence in her talents. That and it rarely hurt to present a friendly face to a pretty one, especially in moments such as these.
Inwardly though the utter lack of reaction had caused the hessian to roll his eyes and adopt the mental equivalent of a self satisfied smirk as he consciously restrained himself from shaking his head. Either his charge had grossly overestimated the potency of her mutation or she had successfully managed to negate her abilities on the first attempt, whatever the case though the elemental felt nothing more than the warmth of Svetlana’s hand as it rested in his own.
“Well, I suppose this is a promising-”
Zephyr broke off abruptly as the lithe gamine hurriedly withdrew her hand and brought it back to her chest as though stung and gazed back at the elemental with a look of apprehension which, the mercenary ponderously realized, was conveying far more than her seemingly silent yet moving lips. No, it wasn’t just Svetlana, he couldn’t even hear his own breath or the idle thrum of the surrounding machinery, it was as though sound had simply ceased.
A sense of pressure settled atop the mercenary’s thoughts as he raised a hand to his brow and hesitantly shook his head in a futile attempt to clear his ears. However the action only succeeded in amplifying the tension within his mind before some internal barrier suddenly shattered. The elementals vision failed as did his balance, swept away with his hearing in a torrent of perceptions of a magnitude the hessian could barely comprehend as his spatial awareness surged beyond its natural capacity. Zephyr gained a single, cursory, glimpse of the entire city; an awareness of every breeze, flurry and gust as well as every object which displaced the air for over 100 miles burned itself into his thoughts. As he collapsed the last sensation the mercenary was registered was not the touch of a cold metallic floor, but that of a softer, warmer form cushioning the fall. Then, darkness invaded and the elemental lost consciousness... just as the wind began to scream.
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."
While she held his hand, a great deal of nothing happened at once. And then she let go. At first, Dio seemed okay. He looked a bid suprised, almost disppointed - Sveta tilted her head. If his powers had something to do with air and wind, th effects should be...
... oh. Right. He fainted. On her.
"Hey!" Sveta went down with a surprised yelp as Dio fell forward, straight into her; his weight pulled her down, and the next thing she knew, she was on her back, and he had his face buried between her neck and shoulder.
Well, that was fast...
She could feel him breathe; at least he wasn't dead. Yet.
"Hey!" she repeated, trying to wiggle free "Dat way a bad idea. I tell you it is, and you still do it. Duh." She finally managed to roll him off of her, and sat up, gasping for air.
"What..."
Then, she headt the wind.
It was inside the room, everywhere, all around them, and it was loud, and growing stronger, and it was out of control. And he was just... out.
"Wake up!" she demanded, rolling Dio onto his back. She reached out to touch him... probably not a good idea. Th wind picked up; it pulled on her hair and clothes, and filled the room with menacing sounds. Sveta slapped Dio.
"Wake up!"
*italics are spoken in Russian* Thanks to Siren for the sig and avi!
The turbulent discord within the training chamber rose swiftly in volume and pitch, rapidly growing beyond a screaming gale and into a vicious tempest which lashed out in a savage spiral against the confines of the room without direction or purpose. Darkness enveloped the area in moments as overhead lighting shattered and jagged glass fragments were swept into the whirling winds, adding a new shrill to the maelstroms daunting chorus as shreds of glass tore across metal walls which soon began to buckle and break.
Elsewhere...
There are those who say that sherry should not be taken in the morning.
They are wrong.
Humming tunelessly Burke Blair settled his lumbering form carelessly into the dull quotidian office chair his station provided. A single obligatory spin was taken in order to fully appreciate his utterly lifeless workspace, before then extracting a plain paper bag from a nearby filing cabinet which gave a healthy sloshing sound as he placed it on his desk and prepared to drink his breakfast with the air of a man who, if not wholly content with his lot in life, at least understood that there could be far worse fates in life.
Measuring 43 years in age and roughly the same in girth Burke had been a senior member of the Mondragon engineering division for a score of years, some of which he occasionally remembered. Still, although drink had dulled his recollections his mind and overall skill had been left roughly intact. Indeed this was the only reason he’d been permitted to stay with the company after the change in both management and operations; for although Mondragon no longer created products of a... offensive nature, the labs still possessed a multifarious infrastructure which required near continuous maintenance.
Burke shook his head and poured himself a second serving of breakfast. Two decades of service rewarded with the position of glorified head janitor. He didn’t even do real work anymore, not work which required a sound mind and a steady hand and ever since that bastard Ingham had had the gall to call him personally to fix a damn squeaky chair-
“Jesus it’s not even noon Blair haven’t you ever heard of water?”[/color]
Shaken from his resigned ruminations Burke shifted his gaze as he turned to regard the statement, and its speaker,, with all the revere one would accord a pallid sheep who’d just a left a ‘gift’ on the living room carpet. “I’ll drink water when fish get out of it to take a piss”[/color] he replied sourly, “And if you haven’t got anything better to tell me sonny Jim you’d better march right back out before I decide to find cruel and unusual uses for a T square.”[/color]
Charles bore the unwelcoming words rather well given the circumstances, his expression barely twitched giving away little more than a dull sense of bemusement as he stared down at oversized man before him and spoke in a dry tone as he folded his arms “You’d have to get off your fat ass for that, and what with your foot in your mouth and your head up your backside I don’t see that happening any time soon.”[/color]
Burke swivelled almost idly in his seat as he plucked his aforementioned T square from a convenient shelf and rested it against his shoulder with disingenuous amiability. “I wouldn’t be so cocky; office chairs get good speeds these days. Now what the hell do you want?”[/color]
“Need you to shut down the third training room so Nick and Frank can yank out the two idiots inside before they- Do you hear that?”[/color]
Burke never got the chance to reply as the entire building seemed to choose that moment to try and break free of its foundations and threw both men to the floor. Darkness covered the room almost immediately as glass rained down and the walls continued to shudder like terrified children.
He was the eye of the storm, and she was... in there with him.
"Dammit, Dio, WAKE UP!" she yelled, not daring to slap him again. He was still out cold, but that apparently did not stop his powers from acting up. Waaaaay up.
Glass shattered; wind howled; walls shook. Sveta screamed, and was not really ashamed about it; anyone should be forgiven a scream or two when a tornado was tearing a building apart around them. Curling up on the ground, she covered her head with both arms, and wiggled as close to th unconscious man as possible without touching him. The key was: no touching. As usual. Except, more dangerous this time.
It should be over soon, she told herself as she lay there, eyes closed. If she did not touch him again, it should be over in a few minutes. In a few... minutes. The longest minutes in her life. Ever.
"I hate you." Sveta muttered at the guy, at the wind, at the building, at the world. "I really, really hate you."
One... two... three... four... five...
*italics are spoken in Russian* Thanks to Siren for the sig and avi!
A gust rushed up her skirt. Funny. That... shouldn't have happened. She looked at her legs just in case they had gotten some powers that she hadn't intended. Noooope. They looked perfectly normal in their sweater leggings and new shoe— a stronger wind ruffled her hair with such force it was like combing through tangles.
The gulf stream. Was it collapsing?
She inhaled sharply and went straight up. Her volumetric vision was wild with texture in the wind. Everything was moving directionally. She raced backward through the currents. It was like an arrow guiding her towoard something horrible. Had something new happened to trigger a collapse? Could the future really not be avoided after everything they had done?
She arrived post haste to a building that seemed to be unmaking itself. A bit of wayward roofing went right through her as she seeped through the wreck of the building toward the focal point. Ghost had nothing even close to this level of power, but she wasn't about to let the future repeat itself... or... the future happen... Ugh. There was no time to figure out the proper phrasing.
"Stop it!" Her voice vibrated through every molecule in her range of control, but even then was quickly swept away. She was pushing her limits to even continue forward at this point. But she had to see what was at the center."You can't imagine the damage to the weather patt-" but just as suddenly she was in an area of space where there was no wind at all. If she had mass in this form, her momentum likely would have put her through the other side of the funnel, but as it was she saw two person-shaped figures without enough definition to know anything more than the fact that they were close, clothed and one was female.
No time to waste. Ghost began the process of becoming solid even with the risks.
"What's happening?" She sounded strange as the phase change set in. It would take more than a minute at this rate. Her particles ached to go wizzing off in the wind instead of coalescing. If she weren't scared silly, this might have been fun.
The emergency lighting took almost a minute to kick in, by the time the dim crimson glow managed to flicker forth Burke had somehow shifted his overly bruised form out of the remains of his chair and, with the grace and experience of a maven inebriant, staggered across the jolting floor towards Charles inert figure.
Amidst the screams and increasingly violent tremors which shook the building Burke glanced at the bottle of sherry clutched in his right hand which he’d instinctively seized on way down and then turned his gaze to the fallen triforce member. The man had clearly dealt himself a blow against a desk on his way down and the dim scarlet lighting showed a small a modest stream of fluid crossing his brow on its way to the carpet. and then the bottle of sherry clutched in his right hand which he’d instinctively seized on way down.
“I’m too sober for this crap.”[/color] So saying the rotund engineer drained the remaining half of his libation before planting his foot squarely in Charles gut causing the decumbent man gasp and cough as he regained consciousness. “You’re blocking the way out Trigg, so move your bumpkin country ass before I decide to plant my foot in it.”[/color]
“Bastard”[/color] The gasped response was barely audible over the groaning of concrete and ever present shouts and screams of others rapidly trying to exit the building which seemed fully intent on shaking itself to pieces. Charles himself was no exception to this however the Mondragon soldier had a somewhat different destination in mind as he stumbled to his feet and careened towards the nearest sublevel only to have a hand land on his shoulder after the first few steps.
“Hey, Jimmy boy! The exits this way come on!”[/color] Blair was nearly shouting to be heard over the ambient noise of destruction as the tortured sound of failing supports abruptly added to the surrounding chaotic cacophony and the entire room suddenly lurched to one side.
Charles simply shook off the restraining hand and crossed out into the main hallway. “Going underground our best chance”[/color] he replied curtly as he braced himself against one shuddering wall with one hand and used the other to free his pistol and fired five shots into the air to grab the attention of those around him.
“Are you out of your bloomin mind?! We’re in the middle of an earthquake!”[/color]
“No. We’re not.”[/color]
---
In the short amount of time it took to rent the Mondragon training facilities asunder the chaotic maelstrom had swelled in height and girth, utterly enveloping the structures foundations and extending its influence beyond as the winds lashed against the surrounding buildings. Concrete was torn away from earth and rebar and was swiftly reduced to little more than misshapen blocks and coarse dust which lent the writhing cyclone a nebulous presence. Cars were seized and trees uprooted with little to no resistance and rapidly bent and broken amongst the other debris while the sky darkened overhead as clouds from across the sky were drawn towards the vicious spiralling mass.
Less than three minutes had passed since the aberrant twister had taken form.
In the eye of the storm Zephyr began to stir.
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."
>>"Stop it! You can't imagine the damage to the weather patt- What's happening?"
Maya. It was Maya's voice. Sveta didn't look up at first; there was no way Maya could have been there, through all the howling wind and... was that the walls falling down? Bummer.
Slate is going to have me executed for this. He is.
Then again, it did sound like Ghost. And she was a mutant, after all...
Sveta lifted her head and glanced around; Dio was still out cold, and Maya was really there. Sort of.
"He touched me!" she yelled, sounding suspiciously like a five-year-old "He touched my skin! And then he just go, pffft." she pointed at the figure lying on the floor. It kind of explained everything. Right. Back to business.
"Maya, vat are you doing here?..."
*italics are spoken in Russian* Thanks to Siren for the sig and avi!
What was she doing here? "I am an air elemental. What are you doing here?"
But she had already said that hadn't she? He touched me. Maya was having a difficult time of becoming fully corporeal. Parts of her kept getting whisked off despite the calm interior eye of the storm so her form looked stretched and pulled away in thin fingers like cotton candy. So much was happening and buzzing around that she couldn't possibly keep track of anything outside of the eye. She wrapped as much of herself around her core as she could, bathrobe style. Her feet, hair and hands trailed, pulled by the wind.
"Svetlana, what's happening?" The person laying on the floor was familiar. It took her a little bit to sort it out in her sort-of solid state. She took a few floating steps forward. It was the only other air elemental she had met in the present.
"Zephyr."
She had come to... to what? Stop whoever was making such a mess? How could she have ever dreamed that she could combat this amount of raw power? Her heart felt like lead. "He's stronger than me even under normal circumstances..."
The Gulf Stream was doomed.
Svetlana, her charge, was under her supervision because the girl could boost power. Ghost had put that out of her mind so that she would not be tempted, but the thought twisted up it's ugly head now. Muse to her was labeled with a big do not touch sign. And now Muse had already touched someone stronger than Ghost. How was Maya supposed to stop this? It was already pulling her apart.
"Svetlana..." She didn't even want to say it. It felt hopeless.
Disorientation came first as dazed azure eyes flickered; there was a bare moment of coherence, sufficient for nothing more than a brief spark sagacity. Time only to wonder where he was and what was happening before his mind was assaulted anew and cast adrift in a howling cyclonic roar. His perceptions once again distended to within a hairs breadth of their breaking point as they struggled to encompass the entirety of the surrounding city in a mocking parody of omniety.
Ataxia suffused his thoughts, forcing his focus to flicker from one area of substance to another in a desperate attempt to merely process, much less comprehend, the vast influx of awareness. All of his remaining senses were swiftly strangled until they were little more than shadows in the anarchistic nexus of wind streams.
In many ways it was comparable to being underwater; submerged at depth where light was all but unable to penetrate, sound was limited to nothing but the beat of your heart while touch taste and smell were rendered essentially useless. Then there was the pressure; a constant all-encompassing strength which pressed relentlessly inwards causing lungs to burn, bones to creak and making rational thought almost impossible.
Almost.
Calling it an uphill battle would have been woefully inaccurate; those at least tended to allow some frame of reference for progress. No, any attempt at cognition was more akin to constructing a sand castle within reach of the oceans tide. Whatever thought he managed to form between the minute interludes when his concentration leapt from one place to the next was virtually erased by the incessant waves as they demolished and carried away any partially constructed rumination. Yet, occasionally, some cerebrations left marks; a foundation upon which a thought could be reconstructed.
It was slow, arduous, work but it gave him an anchor; a means to centre himself and apprehend, however briefly, the faint murmurs from his other senses. It amounted to nothing more than steady snapshots of lucidity, fleeting moments where he could actually apprehend his surroundings if not completely understand them and it was far and away better than the abysmal void he’d faced before.
There were was a curved wall of dust, or was it cloud? Whatever the nebulous substance it was accompanied by a wailing which, some part of his realized, would have been far more piercing if he was capable of hearing it properly, there was a scent of cool air mixed some form of earth and something was pulling at his skin, hair and- were those voices?
“-ched me!.. …my skin-… …just go.”[/color]
The words themselves were less than helpful but the voice itself seemed strangely familiar; a brash Russian brogue unmistakably feminine and more than slightly hysterical, yet it was barely more than a whisper and remained persistently beyond recollection. He tried and failed and to turn his head but the muscles in his neck were unable to lift his view more than inch before falling back to the ground.
Again the collection of morphemes was largely useless but it was a different voice this time, softer, with a more fluent pronunciation, though still tinged with an accent which again seemed oddly familiar. Unlike before however he managed to recognize the speaker almost immediately.
“Gho-st?”
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."
>>"I am an air elemental. What are you doing here? Svetlana, what's happening?... Zephyr. He's stronger than me even under normal circumstances... Svetlana..."
What was she doing here? It was a very good question.
"I am being babysit." she frowned up at Maya; honestly; what did she think she was doing here? Creating tornadoes on purpose?
"It vas his idea." that was an important piece of information.
Maya told her she was not strong enough. For what? For stopping a tornado? Could she do that if she was stronger?... Sveta was starting to get the idea Maya did not even say out loud. If she touched her too... no, it was too risky. What if she couldn't control herself either? It could make the tornato twice as bad. Heck, a hundred times as bad.
"It should be over soon." she said, not really sure it was true. If Dio was still out...
He stirred. And called Maya Ghost. Did they know each other? They probably did.
"Dio!" she turned to look at him, but made sure she was as far from him as possible "Can you stop it?!"
*italics are spoken in Russian* Thanks to Siren for the sig and avi!
Something somewhere ripped with a horrible squealing sound. Things were terribly calm in here and the overwhelming amount of her element acting up had been too much to process so that outside of this perimeter had dulled to useless static. The mind had ways of protecting itself. But horrible things were still happening out there.
The problem child moved and spoke her name. Ghost called out "Zephyr!" as Svetlana called him Dio. Only Katrina called him Dio, to Ghost's knowledge. The white-haired woman was on her knees next to him in an instant, her form still blurred toward the closest edge of the squall. Svetlana, wisely, kept back.
"Zephyr talk to me." She smoothed the loose hairs away from his eyes much as she would for Jude or Sebastian. What had Svetlana said? It was his idea? Well, of course it would have been. He liked power and he liked to be in control. This was entirely out of control. Which meant he'd bitten off more than he could chew.
"Svetty, you should have known better." Ghost tried and failed to keep the disappointment from her voice. She was one of the girl's permanent guardians, but she couldn't breathe down Svetlana's neck every moment of every day. She was supposed to behave herself. She was supposed to know what happened when she touched people.
"And you need to help me stop this." Ghost pressed her index finger into Zephyr's shoulder as if he would be confused as to who she expected to help her calm to storm. Something heavy fell and echoed in the distance and despite the thick barrier winds and debris Ghost looked toward the sound. "Help me before it gets worse."
The human mind is an incredible thing; it regulates body temperature, respiratory cycles, chemical equipoise and the distribution of nutrients. It processes stimuli from a wide variety of senses, assesses the environment, dictates movement and can portend cause and effect to a greater degree than any other creature ever known.
Still, it has limits, and if pushed beyond them it will strain, and then rupture, just like any other organ. There are, of course, mechanisms; evolutionary contrivances designed to safeguard the mind and prevent it from exceeding its capabilities. Pain is the most common and effective measure, though there are others. Should these be circumvented however, through either internal or external influences, there is the little the subconscious can do but attempt to prioritize.
The consciousness however is somewhat more adept at problem solving.
One of the fundamental truths is that few things are as complex as they might first appear. Admittedly mankind has established something of a talent for developing increasing convoluted and verbose elucidations for the simplest of occurrences where often a more laconic response would serve just as well. Zephyr himself was no exception to this, however, when provided with a suitable incentive the hazel haired hessian tended to adopt a rather more cynical and pragmatic point of view.
In short; why bugger around with a complicated plan when a simple one will do?
His mind was currently overworked; it was receiving more information than it could deal with. The solution therefore was to either acquire a more efficient brain or to somehow hinder the constant influx of sensory perceptions. The former, sadly, was not truly viable at the current time. The latter option however was entirely feasible, for although the elemental had lost control of his spatial awareness months previously, his other senses were nowhere near as troublesome.
He closed his eyes.
It was by no means a complete remedy; his sight had already been relegated to little more than an infrequent slideshow, and a dim one at that. Still, it did make thinking several degrees easier, allowing him to remain coherent enough to at least question his current circumstances, if not recall precisely how he had arrived at his present predicament. Perhaps more importantly though he was beginning to focus on his environment, for although he'd effectively rendered himself blind normal sight was, in many ways, a poor second fiddle to the 360° vision granted by the awareness of every gas molecule within the city and beyond.
He was resting at the centre of a tortured and intemperate tower of wind, that much was abundantly apparent. There were a number of hollow rectangular structures displacing the air a little ways beyond the immediate vicinity of the raging cyclone, yet even as the dazed elementals attention fell upon them one of the constructs fractured and began to splinter, contributing its own detritus to that already spiraling within the tumultuous tempest.
"-talk to me."[/color]
Someone, no something, was beside him; air but not air, or at least, not the same as that which surrounded him. It wasn't ethereal but nor was it entirely solid, instead it simply seemed condensed; an imitation of the human form, little more than a ghost. No, not a, the Ghost. She was here, for some reason she was here but he could barely hear her over the interference of the wind.
"Can't hear you." He tried to speak but his throat felt stale and dry, limiting his speech and what words he could utter seemed even less audible than that of his elemental counterpart, who said something else adding some form of emphasis by pressing into his shoulder. A faint feeling of irritation rose within the hessian. He was confused, all but mentally exhausted and had no idea what was happening because he couldn't hear and he just needed the wind to move-
The tornado rippled, its boundaries pulsed uncertainly for the barest of moments, before it double in size, causing the deceptive calm at the centre to grow in equal magnitude, just in time for Zephyr to discern Ghosts request for assistance. A part of the mercenary wanted to scoff but he couldn't spare the presence of mind; he could barely make sense of what was happening around him and she wanted his help?
"Can't help, can't think... too much air."
Wearily, the elemental shook his head. Until he could get his head straight any further effort on his part would likely cause more harm than good and he doubted he could afford to let things spiral out of control more than they already had.
Ghost was on her own.
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."
There was nothing to say to that. Sveta would have blushed - but she was already crimson; she would have admitted she was wrong, but this was really not the time. She should have known better. And shouldn't have believed the guy with the pretty eyes. They always lie.
>>"And you need to help me stop this. Help me before it gets worse."
>>"Can't help, can't think... too much air."
It got worse. Much, much worse.
"It should stop!" Sveta yelled over the sound of the tornado "I did not touch him for dat long! Why is not stopping?" she was starting to get desperate; Ghost said she needed help, and Dio (whom she called Zephyr, wasn't that Greek?) refued. Or, rather, said he was not able to.
"Should I slap him?" she asked no one in particular "But, I can't slap him." she looked up at Maya "Vat now?! If I touch you, can you stop it?"
That was a very logical question. It was.
*italics are spoken in Russian* Thanks to Siren for the sig and avi!
She'd never seen Zephyr admit weakness in anything. And she'd already wasted too much time chiding and seeking help. It was time to act. But where to begin? Svetlana suggest slapping Zephyr. It sounded as good an idea as any so Ghost obliged in helping Svetty since the girl could not do it herself.
Slap!
She looked up to the wall of air. No discernible difference.
How did the tornado from the training simulation stop in the future? With psychic help. That was no good. With an exclamation she'd learned from Sebastian that was likely no longer in a living language, Ghost stood.
"Two wrongs don't make a right, Svetlana." She would be trying it the hard way then.
Stop the rotation.
It sounded easy enough. She raised her arms and tried to start with the closer bits of wind. One piece at a time she expanded outward until it felt like holding up a wall against a torrential flood. And there was still more. One piece at a time. She would try to wrangle more into her control.
Well wasn't that just wise. And useful. And timely. And totally, utterly useless.
Sveta curled up next to Dio, who did not react to the slap all that much. Now it was all up to Maya, to do something about the tornado. She could not help her; she did not want her to help her, and Sveta was not sure Maya was strong enough for this on her own.
She never saw Maya use her powers to this extent. She had no idea what she could or could not do. She looked up, and reached out; she almost touched Maya's leg. But she didn't. What if Maya lost control too? Would that make two tornadoes, or one really, really big one?
Letting her hand slowly down, Sveta sighed, and counted seconds. But. Instead of the cold floor, her hand touched something soft and warm. Soft, warm, alive. Skin. Someone's hand, that just happened to, that just had to be in the way, in the exact one single moment when she was not looking...