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 Aiden Killian on Jul 14, 2016 20:13:04 GMT -6
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Aiden Killian had been missing the X-Jet pretty much ever since he began the longest journey of his life. It had only taken a handful of hours, if that, to travel. To return? Cars, buses, airplanes, more airplanes, trains, more buses.
And now, feet. For all of his relative inactivity, he was exhausted. He knew why, at least. Planes and buses and trains all had lots of people, and with so much travel there were strangers wanting to chat just about every day. Aiden wouldn't have been comfortable with that before he'd spent a year or more on the side of a mountain, with a handful of ranch hands the most company available. Plus it was summer now. Heat was... Heat was not his friend.
He accepted the silver lining. He carried next to nothing with him, just a last few coins and a small bag so cheap it was already splitting and threatening to spill out the handful of clothes he had collected on the trip. He wasn't hauling much weight, and even now the bag was light on his shoulder.
He knew this road. He knew how the shadows fell along it at this time of late afternoon. The lines had been repainted at some point, but not recently. Had he been away so long? Some of the trees seemed larger, only one or two were missing. A few new shrubs and flowers. Different cars, he suspected. Those were harder to determine. They moved all the time, always changed.
The mansion looked much the same. The gate seemed a little worse for wear, some recent repairs showing in the last of the vivid sunlight, but the building itself didn't look like it had any major fires or explosions of late. If it had been repaired, it had been done very well.
Somehow, his gate code still worked, and he slipped in unchallenged. Young people out on the grounds, most drifting inside as the insects began to gather and the lowering sun gave less and less warmth. They bothered him as little as they had on the ranch. Maybe he just smelled too much like snow for them or something. Had they ever harassed him much? He couldn't remember.
The door felt so familiar under his hand. As if he had never left, had never been stranded. What did everyone think? They probably thought he was dead. He'd thought he was dead, until he woke up and he was... he was him and not everything-nothing, not just pain and presence and movement, a headache without a head tied to stabbing agony everywhere and nowhere but mostly nowhere.
Aiden could feel his expression darkening, the mood that had tried to revive from the clawing negativity of crowded travel sinking back down and down and down. Sleep. Sleep in a familiar space, even if it might not feel familiar anymore, sleep in a space that wasn't empty of light and sound and existence. A space that existed even when his eyes were closed. It took existence to counter absence, he'd found. Existence was armour against that emptiness.
He pushed the door open and let himself inside.
Home.
And so, Aiden Killian, x-trainee, dragged his exhausted, miserable self back into the school that had sheltered and educated and encouraged and saved him, mismatched eyes downcast and stormy, and plodded towards the residential wing in the vague exhausted-logic hope that his room still existed.
Cafas had woken up in the war room, ten feet from his locker, uniform still on and communicator still in hand. How many call outs had he attended since Odessa? It had to be averaging somewhere near one and a half per day. He was on call that night, too. He'd been grabbing sleep where he could.
Around late afternoon he'd blinked awake at his alarm's insistence. His back had cracked in multiple spots as he'd stretched sore muscles, not helped by having spent the day asleep in a chair never designed for comfort. He groaned to his still sore feet and decided it was probably a good idea to eat something before someone radioed for back up.
"Hope Maya's okay." He said to no one in particular. No reply was offered except the pneumatic hiss of the heavy security door opening. He tried to roll the pain out of his shoulder where he'd strained it. Not worth bothering the Doc over, but it was uncomfortable.
Hey, beats the fall you'd have taken I suppose.
Cafas walked, yawning, out into the entrance foyer as the front door thunked shut. Then he blinked, because he was seeing a ghost, and not the one he'd been worrying about a moment before, but the type he'd given up on worrying about or hoping for. The blinking did nothing. Was he going insane? No, couldn't be, the ghost he was looking at had aged, and tanned, and put on some muscle. Ghost's didn't do that, either of them.
Then he'd made a mistake? No, the eye was unmistakable, the hair was just as he remembered, the face was older but undeniably his. It had to be him.
"Aiden?" Cafas breathed the word in disbelief, but was already taking long strides over to the boy he thought he'd never see again, fighting the tears he could feel biting at his eyes. His arms were around the trainee and lifting him off the ground like he weighed nothing at all, the scale difference almost comical. "Oh god I thought you were dead. Where have you been? What happened? They couldn't find you. Oh I'm so glad you're not dead." He squeezed Aiden far tighter than the boy would ever have allowed him to, but Cafas was a bit beyond caring.
Posted by Aiden Killian on Jul 15, 2016 1:52:56 GMT -6
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He almost thought he heard someone, heard his name, but the almost thought fluttered away before it could be almost processed. Almost didn't get him horizontal on something soft and familiar. Cold, soft, and familiar would be best, but at this point he'd just take not unusually warm by everyone else's standards.
He almost almost thought he heard footsteps, but while this thought made it closer to processing, it instead ran out of time. Massive arms around him, familiar but not quite the same, and then crushing.
Also way too warm, but breathing came first except it wasn't, he couldn't force his ribs apart enough to get anything in or even out. He also couldn't budge those arms with his own, and his feet were off the ground, but then they were down again before he could get a foot up to push back. It shifted Cafas' arms a little bit, though, and he dragged in a breath.
"Air," he wheezed, and swallowed a bit more air. "And heat," he added once the pain-fire in his chest subsided a little. A little more oxygen and coolness and he could deal with the next in line of issues.
Oh right, he could lift literally hundreds of kilos with those muscles. Aiden's diaphragm couldn't. Cafas let go of Aiden with absolutely no enthusiasm, wiped a tear away, and brushed the boy's shirt down where it had crinkled. He cleared his throat awkwardly and diverted his still teary eyes to the ceiling while they dried up a bit. Some students passed, looking concerned and confused. He thought he heard a comment to the effect of "Cafas is just like that..."
"Sorry. I uh. I thought you were dead. I missed you." He blinked back the tears just as successfully as he had previously. He gave up on even trying to hide it and gave Aiden a once over. "You're looking good for a dead guy. Where'd these muscles come from? Why didn't you call me!"
So many thoughts were running through Cafas' head it would have taken a paragraph of italics to list it. He was trying to come to grips with someone he'd assumed dead being there in the foyer, looking tired but well. Thinking somehow breathing was more important than explaining himself. Explaining how he just happened to have been lost by fully qualified X-men and then just waltz in the door. Cafas would be having some happy but stern words with the East Coast team.
Posted by Aiden Killian on Jul 15, 2016 2:33:53 GMT -6
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Aiden wobbled a little when Cafas let him go, exhaustion teaming up with lightheadedness to try to knock him over. He caught himself, but now he really wanted to go to sleep. Maybe for a week straight. Without putting himself in a coma. He'd had enough of that.
Cafas deserved an explanation, though. Of all people currently alive, really, Cafas did the most. It was just taking a minute to resupply on air. All the rehearsals he'd laboriously gone through while travelling seemed useless now. None of the words seemed to fit, nothing was right.
Of course, that was probably just that he never seemed to be sure what words were right, especially when people were involved. "I think I thought I was dead for a while," he finally said. Couldn't they at least go somewhere he could sit down? He might run the risk of falling asleep on whatever piece of furniture he found, but it was a whole lot more attractive than standing around here for however long this took.
Over there. Cafas would undoubtedly follow if he moved. Even Aiden could see that in this situation, and so he turned to head to the living room. Cafas'd get a better explanation if Aiden didn't have to focus on staying upright anyway. Win win.
"I... don't know what happened, really. But eventually I was... I dunno. I was me again but everyone had left. The only people around were from a ranch. They found me pretty much by chance, but they didn't have phones or internet or anything, and fall was getting on so they couldn't go to town until spring so I-"
He bit back the tumbling words and fell more than eased into a padded chair. Scratch a bed, he'd take this if he thought no one would come bother him. Kids would, though. In a few more minutes, that might well not matter. "I would have called if I could've. I wished so many times I could've." Especially when he remembered that emptiness, that flecked searing pain, and woke up in a cheap motel with his throat raw from screaming just to try to make sound, and people pounded on the door to shut him up.
"I didn't ask for any of it," he said quietly and so, so wearily.
Aiden was moving again. He shuffled like he was dead on his feet, though Cafas objected to the phrasing under the circumstances. The exhausted trainee gave something akin to an explanation on his way too a couch. Cafas followed, considered taking a seat himself, but couldn't justify the risk that he'd pass out himself. He was meant to be on call soon.
"I know Ai, I know. I just... I missed you, and I felt so responsible. I got you all mixed up in the X-men and then... That. If you couldn't call, you couldn't, all that matters is that you're home now. You look like you need a coffee something awful, I'll be right back." Cafas needed one too. He wasn't not as refreshed as he would have liked after his brief nap in an uncomfortable chair.
We need some bunks down there...
The metal manipulator ducked into the kitchen, dodging a passing student with a quickness and grace that his bulk did not suggest. The coffee was, rather predictably, out on the bench. He couldn't recall if Aiden liked coffee or not, but he knew the boy hated the heat, so he figured that extended to beverages. An iced coffee would deal with both factors, sweet and cold. Just enough hot water was added to the instant coffee powder to dissolve it. Milk, ice, too much sugar, shaken. Finished with a scoop of ice-cream. Cafas was living vicariously through Aiden with that one. His own coffee was black, with just enough cold to make it immediately drinkable.
Do I really need these abs? Like, really really?
He stepped back into the lounge room, drinks in hand. Aiden's came complete with a spoon and straw. "So, I guess I should get you caught up?"
Posted by Aiden Killian on Jul 21, 2016 10:29:22 GMT -6
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"My choice, my-" stretched out yawn, and a few moments to get his jaw back into place after it cracked on both sides "my risk. If you wanted to smack some of them a bit, though, I wouldn't argue too much." Team-building did not mean constant socializing and he didn't want it to now any more than he had then.
Coffee? He supposed, although he was kind of meh on the taste. It was usually hot, though, and it was way too warm out for him to tolerate more heat. It was almost too warm out to sleep easily, but then he was so, so tired...
He was tucked into the join of back and arm before Cafas returned, already well into the realm of sleep, but the much heavier x-man's footsteps roused him. He pushed himself a little more upright and rubbed a palm across his face. Hadn't Cafas just stepped out? He was back already? Or he'd fallen asleep. That would explain it. Time hung in the air when he was asleep, almost a reverse of the suspension that haunted him. Flying by entirely removed, as compared to floating out of reach and only ever taunting him.
Aiden nearly almost smiled a tiny, tiny bit when Cafas passed him the 'coffee.' The ice cream, leeching tendrils of white into the pale coffee underneath, chased away the shadow of memories that would be better off on fire than rolling around in his head, and that was just from looking at it, and the smooth not-hot feel of the container against his palms.
He started with the straw, though, because if Cafas was going to catch him up on stuff that had happened now he needed to be at least slightly more awake than he was. It wasn't like there wasn't space on the awake-scale for improvement. He was kind of hovering around the not-awake end.
"City seems kind of freaked out," he said, half questioningly, through another yawn.
Cafas dropped himself into a seat, half contemplating putting his feet up on the coffee table. Seemed hypocritical though, he was constantly knocking people's feet off that thing. A short sip of his coffee later and Aiden seemed awake enough to talk. If he'd had any issue with the drink, Cafas hadn't caught it on his face. If anything, he seemed pleased.
"Didn't hear about Odessa? Anti-mutant extremist bombed a shelter, 49 dead. The peace protests started the next day. Didn't take more than a week for the peace to start breaking." Cafas took another sip and sighed, head shaking sadly. He'd kind of been looking forward to a birthday with Ghost. Instead he'd gotten a birthday with Calley, as if he didn't have enough stress in his life. "It hasn't been this bad since the riots. We've got dwindling numbers on the police side, and DocProf is the only reason the X-men aren't all out of commission too."
How he keeps up with it is beyond me.
"Drink, you need it." Cafas motioned absently to the glass in Aiden's hands, trying to figure out what else the guy had missed. It was a lot, he knew that much. Two years. What had happened in the last two years? What was older? It all rather tended to blend together when you hadn't had a holiday to break it all up, just run from one project to the next at full pace.
"Okay, other big news I guess. META bots. Glorified stalkers, got in under the guise of saving police lives. Guess who gets to clean them up when they glitch out and start arresting everyone with an active X-gene? Official line is that we support it, not that I've heard a single X-man actually say that." Quite the opposite, really. Maybe it was the way they kept glitching out and shooting people, or putting shock cuffs on children, or beating X-men into a pulp. At least Cafas had the ability to destroy them easily.
Now, anyway.
"The Order went underground, no real activity out of them recently, Brooklyn's been reclaimed. New threat rose though, some group calling themselves Ragnarok. Basically some terror cell claiming every mutant terror even in the city was them. They're really starting to be a problem. Limited intel though." He was pretty sure that was all the major developments for the X-men. It didn't seem like much when put like that, although in reality it all ran so much deeper and broader that it was impossible to fully quantify how much of their X-work was tied into it all.
"That's pretty much the cliff notes." Cafas shifted and stretched, already getting restless from sitting. The coffee didn't help for that, though it did help with that hollow drained feeling he had inside him so often recently. Even with his ability to eat he was starting to struggle with caloric intake given the volume of work he was doing. Healthy food just took so much volume to get the calories he needed.
Posted by Aiden Killian on Jul 23, 2016 17:11:14 GMT -6
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"Odessa...?" Aiden trailed off as Cafas explained, and he paled under the light tan he'd painfully acquired. Forty nine... dead? Because someone bombed a shelter?
He knew how easy it was to dislike mutants. He'd shied away from them for most of his life, even - perhaps especially - after finding out he was one. His surviving family, his entire town... Pretty much everyone from his life before this school was against mutants to some degree or another. Casual insults, blaming them for violence or deaths or even job losses, especially labour jobs. Companies going out of business, even. There certainly were some nasty mutants out there, and some organized groups like the x-men and the order, but there was no single cohesive union of all mutants striving to take over the world.
Mutants were just people, and were just as unlikely to actually work together to achieve anything.
Aiden's hands had sagged a bit, bringing the glass to rest against his thighs until Cafas reminded him. He did need it, although at this particular moment he didn't feel like he could sleep any more. So much death and destruction, unnecessary death, and now it was only getting worse, and closer to home? He hadn't come home too soon at all. He was late, so late.
And there was probably absolutely nothing he could do to help, really. Just be another body to fill in a line, and only if it weren't cripplingly hot out.
He stuck a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth before he could get too worn down. He was too worn out. Cafas kept going too, moving on to more bad news.
"Police robots? I passed a couple while getting back here. They seemed to be working okay." He was really, really glad they'd been working. They'd seemed suspicious enough of him as it was, although none of them had ever directly confronted him. "Are they at least metal?" He sat up a little straighter as the coffee did its best to work its caffeinated magic.
Finally some good news - nope. Just trading one bad for another. Aiden rested his chin on the rim of the glass and just sort of stared at his fingers. Why couldn't he have found a way to make it back sooner? Taken a supply of food that could freeze and just walked through the mountains in the snow?
Because he'd have gotten lost and eaten by predators a hundred times over before he reached the first town, or whatever had gotten him left behind would happen again.
Yeah, he kinda wished he'd had more good news to give Ai to soften the blow of the bad news. Honestly though they hadn't really had much in the way of good things happening. Maybe it was just the fate they'd consigned themselves to by being X-men? That the only good events in their lives would be personal events, and anything larger was doomed to be bad.
"Some parts. The exterior plates are carbotanium or something, which is essentially just titanium glued to carbon fibre, so I can affect the titanium, but then the carbon is still there. Interior is metal though, as is the circuitry. Still, they make me uncomfortable." Cafas sighed and shook his head, staring at his coffee. Those dumb robots were truly a step backwards in civil rights, and a liability at that.
Apparently expensive too. Don't know what they want be to do about that, I have to destroy them.
"When was the last time you slept Aiden?" The X-man asked, finally getting around to looking at the shadows under the younger man's eyes. It looked like the answer was days ago. Days ago should never be the answer to that question, it wasn't healthy, and it killed muscle mass from lack of repair. Not that Cafas could really talk, but at least he was trying. Maybe Aiden was trying too... Hopefully not. Hopefully he had no trouble sleeping at all, because Cafas would not wish his sleep situation on anyone.
Posted by Aiden Killian on Jul 30, 2016 12:31:36 GMT -6
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Okay, so Cafas could at least vaporize important parts of the robots if they went haywire. Not the best solution, but better than not being able to do anything about them. Most mutants wouldn't be able to do anything. Someone like him? He could only hope they were somehow sensitive to moderately low temperatures or tripped in loose snow or something, since hitting a robot with the equivalent of a short, if sturdy, stick didn't seem likely to do anything.
And even if the big city didn't get much snow, it still got snow sometimes, so it would have been incredibly stupid and shortsighted of the robots' makers to not factor in a bit of snow resistance. Cold Steel could probably do more, but he himself was infinitely below the full x-men in terms of usefulness.
He probably couldn't have done anything at all to help if he hadn't been gone anyway.
Huh? Sleep? Aiden looked up, caught a little off guard by the change in topic, and blinked. And then felt his face settle into an unusually strong (for him), caffeine- and exhaustion-fueled rendition of are you ****ing kidding me incredulity.
"I've been creeping across the continent on public transit," he said. Was that flatly? Not quite. He didn't know how to describe the lack of impressedness or clear emotion. Maybe he could have a few years ago, when he still did creative things like work on his book. He couldn't even really remember what it was about now. Something about two brothers, yes, but other than that..?
He'd also rather not talk about the empty nightmares that got him kicked out of all but the seediest motels on that trip, even to Cafas. He might have to deal with what had happened eventually, but right now he didn't want to, okay? It could go shove itself off into some box and set itself on fire. He'd even tolerate the heat for a bit.
Oh well, excuse him for caring. Apparently Aiden had grown some attitude while he was gone. Clearly he was up past his bed time and needed a nap so he wouldn't be so cranky.
Then again, maybe Cafas was just over reacting because he was tired, and having a difficult month, what with the constant call outs. The truth, as ever, probably lay somewhere between those two points, but Cafas wasn't in the mood to try and find it. That sounded an awful lot like the job of hindsight. For now, he was just going to ignore the whole affair and push on.
"The benefit of public transportation, it could be argued, is that you aren't actually doing the driving, and thus can sleep on it. I've done plenty of travelling with tight schedules and few real beds, but believe me, planes, trains, busses, I have found it is possible to sleep in all of them." So there was probably something more to it that Aiden wasn't telling him. Not telling him meant Aiden didn't trust him, and Aiden not trusting him hurt.
Lot can change in two years.
Cafas sipped coffee and waited for the one man snow storm to respond, because he'd be damned if he was going to let the topic go without at least having tried to ascertain what was wrong. He couldn't help with things he didn't know about, and that was kind of the point of both being X-men, that they had each other's backs, and helped each other.
Posted by Aiden Killian on Aug 2, 2016 17:23:19 GMT -6
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When Aiden went to drink more of his coffee, Cafas started talking.
And Aiden just sort of looked at him. "Have you ever seen me sleep near people?" He tried not to grouch it, but there still wasn't much length to his tone. "Not including knocking myself out. Just sleeping."
Cafas couldn't have, because it didn't happen. How was he supposed to sleep with people around, even if they weren't directly looking at him. They were still around, and people were... stressful. And he didn't like a lot of them, and almost all of them expected or thought things about him. Things that weren't true or were bad or-
Know what? He was waaaay too tired to go anywhere near that train.
He finished the ice cream in his glass, but Cafas seemed to be... waiting? This was Cafas. Cafas could read people like they all had mood-ring eyes, at least relative to Aiden. He was used to dealing with people and, as far as Aiden had ever been able to tell, enjoyed dealing with people.
Trying to hide things from Cafas had never gone well. He might do his best not to remember specifics, but that sort of... theme... stuck around. Trying to hide things from Cafas did not go well. It would come out eventually, and what did fighting it ever actually accomplish?
Didn't make it any easier. Not one measly bit. "I think I said I don't know what happened," he eventually said, watching the remaining cold coffee in his glass as he sort of swirled it around. There were still little foamy streaks from the ice cream. Around and around and around, cleaning off the sides of the glass but sometimes just leaving a damp streak instead.
"I haven't slept well since whatever it was stopped either," he finally finished. It wasn't quite all in a rush, but there was definitely a sense of whoosh as the words slid out.
That wasn't going to do at all. Cafas knew Aiden could do what needed to be done, even in adverse conditions, if it came to it. He needed to sleep. He might die if he didn't, the exhaustion was no joke. He just kept staring him down, despite his clipped speech. What was he going to do? Hit him? that would be a joke.
"I think I said I don't know what happened,"
Was this going to be a diversion? Cafas had to be ready for that. "Yeah, you did." He waited for Ai to continue. Seriously, why did he have to twist people's arms to get them to tell him what was wrong? He had been nothing but caring to most of them too. Why did they have to be so... So Persi about everything?
Maybe I just attract the quiet ones.
"I haven't slept well since whatever it was stopped either,"
Okay, no diversion, though no real information. Sleeping well could mean so many things. Was he just uncomfortable? Was he sick? Was his power playing up? Nightmares? Cafas tried to scrutinise Aiden's face to no avail, he was going to have to go this one with logic. Why would he not discuss discomfort? Even Aiden wasn't that socially weird with him. So cross that off. He felt like illness would also be something he'd have mentioned, though depending on the type of illness... Okay so that was possible. His power playing up was of professional concern, much as Cafas wished Ai had never made it so. Would the snow dancer mention it? Maybe, maybe not, but it would have to be something pretty bad to keep him from doing it.
Which came to the one Cafas had probably the most experience with. He hoped it wasn't that, but there was just something about Aiden's eyes that worried him. No, surely not that. The emptiness was there though, the thousand yard stare into his glass of coffee. Could just be the lack of sleep.
Denying won't make it less so, if it is...
Cafas set his own coffee cup down on his side table and slid out of his chair, onto his knees in fornt of Ai, trying to gently coax some eye contact out of him. "I can't help if you don't tell me Ai. What's stopping you sleeping?"
Posted by Aiden Killian on Aug 4, 2016 19:04:05 GMT -6
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Oh, come on Cafas. It wasn't like he was actively trying to get out of this! He didn't have nearly enough energy for that. He just didn't have the energy to make himself do this fast either.
Plus he didn't want to talk about this, but he was doing it anyway.
So Cafas could take that face and go - do something with it. That wasn't looking at him.
After they were done. While Aiden slept. Or mostly slept. Whatever. Some kind of not-very-far-away later.
He added to his 'too tired to ___' list: too tired to even try to work out what was going on in Cafas' head. He just yawned, stuck more coffee in his face, and tried to get back on track. Where was he? Where was he going with this? Er.
"Whatever it was that happened. It doesn't go away." Only when he was awake and busy, able to focus and think consistently about other things. But even then, it lurked around corners he couldn't see. It waited to suddenly exist again, in its undeniably-there-but-impossible-to-prove way. "Just a whole lot of nothing."
Aiden pulled his gaze away from the nearly empty glass and fixed it on Cafas, petulance almost teasing. "Also, it was always too warm and loud and crowded, especially too warm, so stop acting like travelling like a broke person is so minor."
Did he just say that?
... It was either a dream or fueled by lack of sleep. Either way, it would go away.