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 Pharoah Dynasty
An ancient sorceress is on a quest to bring her long-lost warrior-king to the modern era in a bid for global domination. Can the heroes of the modern world stop her before all is lost?
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 camazotz on May 11, 2010 10:41:36 GMT -6
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The heels of Davi's palms were rather roughly rubbed into his eyes as he exited his work place with an irritated groan. It was still raining, the streets were slick with it, water gathering some in the gutters, and the rain was cold. As if that wasn't bad enough, the 'early shift' he'd needed to cover today for a sick coworker had ended up turning into a double shift as someone else didn't show up, and didn't even have the courtesy to call about it. Curse his workplace for staying open so late. It was nine thirty, by then, with all the work done to get it closed properly, and he'd been their since before eight in the morning. Just his luck that it had been an unusually busy day handling claims virtually non-stop, though with the recent weather, it perhaps wasn't so strange that there had been some accidents.
He passed his gaze out across the street, shivering a little at the cold and muttering, "Mãe de Deus," under his breath as he pulled his windbreaker closer around him. It didn't make him feel better that he needed to hope the blasted thing would stand up to the rain, but regardless he turned on his music, cranking it to a volume loud enough to drown out the rattle of rain on his hood. All he could do was give another agitated murmur that he was going to get soaked as he walked out into the rain, starting down the street.
There was at least a small bonus, he thought to himself, that he could just watch his feet and not need to worry about walking into anyone. That late at night, and in a torrential downpour like this, everyone was most likely to just be inside. The worst he needed to concern himself with was staying away from the road, just to be sure no passing cars tossed torrents onto him from the soaked streets. Ah well, what was a couple of water-soaked miles to him? He'd done this walk in worse. At least it wasn't snowing.
Posted by alexstarkova on May 11, 2010 11:01:38 GMT -6
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Ilari was used to the rain, at least. He had to walk so much for his profession, and it wasn't like his craptastic apartment could hold water out of his room, even though he wasn't even on the second floor. Rainwater was just a jerk like that, plain and simple. Ilari was almost convinced that it was an entity of it's own, picking the worst possible times to make itself known.
But what was the worst about the rain wasn't the way it made his cold, soaked clothes cling to him, or the way it squished around in his only pair of boots. No, the worst thing about the rain was how it affected his powers. He could never figure out why, but, for some reason, Ilari's handlights always flickered or dimmed when he was soaking wet. It wasn't a constant problem, but it made the concentration of keeping his powers active far outweighed the concentration needed to execute a proper theft.
So, penniless and soaked, Ilari made his way home. Despite all that it did to him, Ilari rather liked walking in the rain. It provided him with some strange sense of security. No one else was on the streets, especially in his shitty neighborhood. When Ilari could walk completely alone, freely, he found a few true moments of peace and happiness.
Then he saw him. Someone else was walking along the sidewalk, a distance in front of him. This idiot was dressed in a rather nice-looking getup, especially for this part of town. As Ilari closed the distance between them, he noted the man wearing slacks and nice work shoes. Really? Who did that? Who walked around one of the worst parts of New York City - financially speaking - wearing slacks and dress shoes? Rather than feel outraged at the ridiculousness of the situation, he thanked whatever god must have been looking out for him.
This idiot must have been new to town, rich, and a complete idiot to be doing this. A sudden rush, the giddiness of finding such an easy target, and the rush of excitement that calculating his plan flooded through Ilari. This was why he was a thief. This was why he didn't get another job. He loved this, as much as he hated to say it.
So, when he was close enough to the man, he snaked a hand out to sneak into the man's pocket...
and get stuck.
What the hell!? Cords!? Did the man just booby-trap his body in case of this kind of situation!? Momentary panic caused Ilari to snap his hand back, hoping to escape with his identity hidden, but the movement only exacerbated the situation, and got his hand more tightly wound in the cord. Panic started it's gnawing at Ilari's mind, but he tried to keep his head. This was a minor situation. He was still wearing his hood, and it was dark out. The man wouldn't see his face, right? The man would just get scared and run off, right?
Posted by camazotz on May 11, 2010 12:14:51 GMT -6
Guest
It wasn't long at all before Davi had completely detached himself from the real world. The cold no longer mattered and nor did the wetness. He was lost the world of music, now, his head kept down to keep the water from getting inside his waterproof and possibly damaging his music, and his eyes half glazed as he stared at the ground. There was no indication of the music he was listening to, save the barely noticeable fact that he was walking with a perfect rhythm; he wasn't even dancing to the sound. With the rain on his hood pattering along noisily, what little sound actually leaked out of his ear buds at this volume was drowned out.
The world of music he was lost in was wonderful, uplifting a dull mood and letting him forget all about the terrible day. Here, with a favored band's songs thundering away in his ears he could be warm, dry, carefree. He wasn't trapped in a dead end job, illegally living within a country that would toss him right out, with significant legal repercussions, if he was ever found. There was no chill rain, no cold weather. In this music, he could remember the jungle, the trees, the comfortable warmth and the soothing sounds of the animals. With the magic of music, this memory even came without the horrible biting insects, or the fear of the more dangerous animals around. No, with this music, he was in his own, personal little heaven.
And then, very suddenly, he was not in his personal heaven. He was cold, he was wet, and he was starting to fall over with a significant pain in his ears as one of the ear buds was yanked out and the other jerked violently. His sideways stumble had him striking something with a bit of give and taller than he was, and he hardly had a moment to think as his startlement had adrenaline pounding through his body.
An attempt to wrench away just yanked out his other ear bud, which had him realizing very quickly that his music player and headphones were in danger. That realization had him grabbing around and quickly finding Ilari's entangled wrist, his other hand moving to unwind the cable with surprisingly calm finesse, considering how on edge he was. The flood of energy to his system was already activating his power, that power he didn't know existed, his eyes looking up to Ilari wide, focused, and angry. As soon as they were no longer attached to each other, he was leaping back almost inhumanly fast and light footed, before swinging his body weight around in a high, rotating kick for the other man's face. The sheer speed and flexibility couldn't possibly have been expected from one who was so soft to the touch.
Posted by alexstarkova on May 11, 2010 13:55:56 GMT -6
Guest
Of all the things coursing through Ilari's head, and all of the possibilities he thought of, none even came close to what was happening right then. Of course, he expected his target to lurch back, into him, then twist around to get free. Though, he expected an attack to follow up directly, or to be grabbed, subdued, and taken in. He didn't expect a calm, firm hand to untangle him.
It seemed a lot of things, those days, were surprising him. He wondered, vaguely, if this target would end up like the strange redhead who'd caught him in the store. The redhead he'd made unlikely friends with. That wondering gave him to pause, though he didn't need much of a pause to miss his target's movement. Ilari didn't even register that the man was no longer in front of him before he found himself kicked squarely in the face.
He hardly even registered the kick before he found himself slammed into the wall of the nearest building by the force of that blow. He could taste blood in his mouth. It really wasn't his night. As quickly as possible, Ilari scrambled back, away from the frighteningly speedy target - no. He wasn't a target. Ilari had become the target.
He couldn't let himself be the target.
So, he tried to act with speed to rival his attacker's, though he figured that impossible, both because his attacker seemed inhumanly fast, and because Ilari had to take a moment to recover from that blow. Once he managed to claim a fighting stance and face the other, he acted with skills one could only learn on the street - sloppy, frantic skills, but skills nonetheless. He aimed a sharp jab for the man's chest, hoping to knock the wind out of him and open an escape route.
It would have been much easier if it wasn't raining. If he could only access one flash, one simple camera-flash in the man's face, he would be able to get away. He doubted he could manage that.
Posted by camazotz on May 12, 2010 11:10:05 GMT -6
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Despite an acrobatic landing from the wild kick, Davi actually stumbled a bit shaking his head to try and clear it. He was actually surprised that kick landed, with how sluggish he thought his body was moving. That attack was a far cry from the speed he used to feel when he actually practiced his capoeira, and a bare thought has him wondering if it's anything to do with the weight he'd put on since then. In truth, while that was the reason he felt sluggish, it was also the fastest kick he'd ever done. The speed afforded by the rush of adrenaline and increase of metabolism had sped all parts of him equally, including his speed of thought has perception. If he had been capable of true focus at that moment, rather than adrenaline and metabolically piqued aggression, the fact that what was happening right now would have been noticeable as unnatural. Thanks to that aggression, however, the fact that the world around him seems slowed completely passes out of his range of notice.
Ilari's hand was spotted with ease, the shorter man dropping down and under the movement, hands planted to the ground and body giving an almost roll like rotation as he does. Both legs shifted out, one planting along side Ilari's, and the other coming up to plant his knee in the back of his opponents, preceding at rotation in his hips as an attempted take down and throw.
How dare someone try to steal his music?! It hadn't even crossed Davi's aggressive, fast moving mind that the other man was after his wallet, not the MP3 player he likely didn't even know was there. With the wrist having entangled itself in his headphones it was firmly cemented in his mind that his music was the target of the assault, and that's really what had set the unknowingly mutant young man off into a fit of aggression and heightened metabolism. And still, even with the speed in which he entered into the take down, and the fact that his drop was comparatively slower than the rest of his movements as gravity and his metabolic state have no relation to each other, he hadn't noticed the sheer haste he was moving with.
Posted by alexstarkova on May 12, 2010 11:37:39 GMT -6
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The punch was unsuccessful. It was more than that. Either Ilari was fighting another mutant with super-speed, or he had somehow managed to punch deliberately over his opponent's head. Really!? He just wanted to get away at that point! All he needed to do was land one hit! Something staggering, just to get away! And with his power out of the question, it was proving way too hard.
So he tried to change tactics, step back, assess the situation. But, wait, why did it feel like his leg bumped into something? He looked down, and before he could register that his opponent's leg was against his, the other came to join the fun, and Ilari found himself smashed down into the pavement. The cold, wet pavement.
Ilari's stamina wasn't holding up. He was cold. He was wet. And all he wanted to do was get away from the situation, especially before someone saw and called the cops. Granted, it being New York City, and in a rather slummish area, Ilari doubted any cops were going to be called. Still, there was always that niggling feeling of paranoia.
An attempt at standing was made, but the few blows to the head Ilari had sustained made it hard. He overbalanced, managing a few steps on the balls of his feet before he stumbled sideways into the wall which he had made acquaintances with but a few moments before. He wasn't getting enough of an opportunity to recover from the blows he'd gotten. The fight was difficult, and with his attacker moving so quickly, he probably wouldn't get a chance to move off of the wall before getting hit again.
Hopefully, he wasn't the type to hit a man when he was down.
Posted by camazotz on May 12, 2010 12:46:28 GMT -6
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From the ground, Davi hardly even had a thought as he moved to launch into another kick. Thankfully for Ilari, though, the Brazilian was panting already, and the sidewalk was wet. A loud splash came from the attempted kick as his supporting hand slid out from under him with haste, sending the younger figure crashing to the pavement with a startled snap of, "Merda!". He was on the ground for what felt, to him, like an eternity, but in reality he'd rolled back onto his shoulders and used power and momentum to leap to standing in the blink of an eye. In all the combat maneuvering his hood had fallen off, leaving his dark skinned face on show, amber eyes narrowed dangerously.
With Ilari stuck trying to compose himself against the wall, it wasn't hard at all for him to stalk towards him and move to try and pin him in play. "You! What do you think you are doing trying to take my music!?" It was snarled out loudly, violently, his eyes dangerous and furious, and the words coming out quite quickly. With the combination of speed, his heavy accent, and how hard he was breathing, it likely wasn't very easy to understand what he was saying. At this distance, too, Ilari could probably notice how warm he was getting thanks to the activation of his undiscovered mutation.
Again his mouth opened to speak, likely not with enough time for Ilari to answer, thanks to how fast he was moving and still oblivious to his hastened perceptions. That time, however, instead of words coming out, it was a somewhat faint police siren, kicking up from a street over and startling the young man into silence. Richly colored eyes snapped around the area with high speed, as if searching for something, before he took off at high speed down the nearby alleyway, after discovering that there was really no where else to go.
Posted by alexstarkova on May 12, 2010 13:58:11 GMT -6
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Ilari felt sluggish, like someone had covered him in a thick ooze that was hindering his every movement. Still, he leaned on that wall and braced for a hit, expecting it to come soon. If he couldn't get away, he might as well have just waited to get the crap beaten out of him before scurrying away. However, he was awaiting a hit that never came.
When he finally looked over, to see what was going on, he found a face close to his. It was his attacker, yelling at him in what seemed like another language. He caught the word "music." Was that what it was? Did he catch his hand in some headphone cords?
"S- slow down, buddy," Ilari stammered, voice weak, more than a little scared. He felt like everything was going about five thousand miles per hour faster than he was.
And then he heard the siren. And then the world was running at normal speed. And then, Ilari was moving FAST, adrenaline fueling him to just run the hell away! He was close to home. If he could just make it there. He noted then, strangely, that his opponent was running in the same direction he was - away, into the alley - and he wondered why someone whom had just about gotten robbed would high-tail it with the police around, probably on their way to help him. He had no time to think about that. If his target was running away? Good! It would be bad for Ilari if he talked to the cops.
So, he figured, might as well tell the guy the best escape routes.
"This way!" he shouted over the rain, and scrambled up a fire escape, careful not to slip on the slick metal of their escape route. Despite his performance showed, that day, Ilari really was quick and agile. He made it up the fire escape with ease, and onto the roof of the building. From there, he looked around, searching for a good route home.
Posted by camazotz on May 12, 2010 22:43:26 GMT -6
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By the time Ilari was up that ladder and shouted, Davi was already halfway down the alleyway, running through a mental map of the area that was full of holes. In fact, he wasn't even sure the area he thought he was in actually was this one; one of the problems with how he usually kept his head down as he walked was that he didn't recognize the area of the long, straight stretches he had to walk through very easily. With the other man's shout, he whirled, looking up at the figure scrambling up the fire escape and quickly calculating the situation. Why would someone who tried to rob him be helping him- of course, if he gets caught by the cops, he'll give a description and get his attacker arrested.
That was a good enough reason for Davi, and he was quickly backtracking to the fire escape and lunging up with similar acrobatics to Ilari's own movements. Even so, he was starting to move slower and that much was very visible. His panting was getting harder as he vaulted over onto the roof and gave a quick look around. It was Ilari that got his gaze next, with furrowed brows, "Where is it you expect to go now?". He kept up the looking around, before startling and replacing his hood, shuffling around his pants a bit and wincing some. A few more shuffles are given, and it seems as if he's stuffing something into an inside pocket of his jacket; Ilari might get a flash of the MP3 player and the cord of the headphones he'd been entangled in.
A few coughs came from the shorter man as he finally started to calm very slightly from his earlier adrenaline rush, and he leaned over, putting his hands to his knees. Was he really so out of shape that such a small amount of physical activity was enough to overheat and exhaust him like this? He shook his head, considering the removal of his jacket for but a moment before he realized that his MP3 player would get wetter if he took it off. It was already a concern that it might be destroyed, now, he didn't want to chance it any further in case it was still alright.
Posted by alexstarkova on May 12, 2010 23:05:00 GMT -6
Guest
As he surveyed the area, Ilari tried to figure out what direction he needed to take to find a good hiding spot. He didn't want to head home. It wasn't a good idea to bring his failed target to his house, in case the man was still interested in taking him to the police. Granted, given the way he ran from the cops, he might not have been much of a threat. And, well, the roof of his apartment building was safe enough. The building was high enough that they wouldn't be easily seen from the ground.
When his attacker spoke, it startled Ilari somewhat. He looked over, and found that the man was already out of breath. Really? The man who'd just kicked his ass had stamina that was that short? Ilari might have been able to outlast that. He gave a grunt of irritation in response.
"I'll be able to see where to go from here," he explained. "And if you want to stay away from them, follow me." Regardless, he remained where he was and kept looking around for his route. It was only a few rooftops over, and there was a clear path. The buildings were close together. They'd be able to jump the roofs, even with the other so out of breath. There were a few overhangs to run on.
"Come on," he urged. "We only have a little further. A couple more rooftops and-" He was interrupted. Another police siren started up, this time on the street upon which Ilari and his failed target were just standing. Ilari gave a snap to hurry up, then bolted away, startled into action. If his failed target couldn't keep up... at least he'd be on a roof.
It was only two roofs over, then a quick shot further up another fire escape. They would make it up to the sanctity of Ilari's roof in a matter of a few minutes, and be safely hidden from the police by virtue of the height of Ilari's building's roof.
Posted by camazotz on May 14, 2010 12:43:23 GMT -6
Guest
Ilari's explanation brought a single, understanding nod from the rather exhausted younger man. He was having trouble keeping himself standing, now, his initial adrenaline rush long since faded and his metabolic state winding down thanks to the heat. His lunch break had been eight hours ago, and he hadn't even gotten the chance to take a dinner break in the midst of his second shift, lacking anything in the way of a second meal to actually eat. Such an occurrence left him with little energy to spare, especially when a state of high metabolism had overcome him and burned up a significant amount of it. All Davi could really do was just try to breathe, and calm his thundering heart.
Any chance he'd had of succeeding in such an attempt, however, was lost entirely when the siren kicked up even nearer to them, another burst of adrenaline rushing through his body lightning fast. With Ilari taking off, Davi was after him in a flash, virtually wheezing from the effort and not quite as fast as before. His body was already overheating, and his metabolic fail safes were keeping him from taking too much more of the energy that was only there through adrenaline. All of his muscles felt like they were on fire from the overuse, as well, pinpointing just how out of shape the Brazilian had gotten over his sedentary years in New York. That didn't stop him in the midst of an adrenaline rush, however, and he ran to the edge of the building as fast as he could, leaping to the next with full confidence that he'd make it.
The landing wasn't quite stuck, but with some stumbling and arm flailing for balance he managed to keep going and not quite fall. It was close, however, and the added action tired him out even further. By this point he wasn't even entirely sure he could make it, a niggling feeling of doubt appearing in the back of his mind. With that thought, however, he found an extra burst of speed; he could not get caught, even for being the victim of an attempted mugging. They'd find him out, and he'd get deported. His feet continued their hasty slap along the wet roof.
Posted by alexstarkova on May 14, 2010 12:56:56 GMT -6
Guest
Even though he'd sustained a few kicks to the head, Ilari wasn't having as much trouble as the other was. The jumps between roofs weren't far, and there were only two to make. From there, he paused to make sure the other was behind him... he was, but didn't look so good. That was something of a problem, given that Ilari needed to keep this one away from the cops. So, the young blond ran back to the other and grabbed his arm to tug him along to the second fire escape and help him up to the roof.
"It's not much farther," he encouraged, and couldn't help but wonder why he'd started helping people lately, even if this particular good deed was for rather self-serving reasons. He'd dwell on it, later, as, even though his adrenaline rushes weren't mutant powered or anything of the like, the frenzied sprint was starting to tire Ilari out. Breathing hard, he managed the way up to his apartment building's roof and ran a few more steps, momentum carrying him to the center of the roof before he fell - which was much more an efficient braking method than slowing down - into a panting, sweating heap on the roof.
The police sirens sprang up in a few more places, but, now that Ilari was stationary and had the capacity to listen and think straight, he could hear the police driving swiftly away from his and his... temporary companion's location. That allowed him a better rest, at least. Ilari simply focused on breathing hard to regain his breath and fighting off the feeling that his head was spinning. He wondered, vaguely, if he'd have to stay up that night to make sure he didn't have a concussion.
The grab to his arm initially startled Davi a bit, but he relaxed and moved to run with Ilari after only a moment's glare. Probably the only reason his body hadn't outright collapsed on him by now was the fact that the cool rain was soaked through his clothes and keeping him cool. Had it been a dry day, he'd have overloaded by now, and had he been this wet without this activity he'd be freezingly miserable.
"It had... Better not... Be much... Further..." came panted out, the younger man not even managing more than a few words per breath as he continued his rush alongside the other. He managed to make it, now that he had support, with hardly any more stumbling at all.
As the two reached the fire escape, he was quick to start scrambling up it with Ilari, and though he didn't actually trip at all, his motions were clumsy and loud. It only served to scare him more, but there was no more energy to be had, no more adrenaline, none from food. He couldn't manage any faster, even with a greater fear of the police catching him rushing through his body. Everything was starting to feel so slow, so sluggish, and by the time he got to the roof, he only made three slow, heavy steps before crumpling down on all fours. From there, it was only a short matter of time before he dropped to his side and curled up half fetal, wheezing and coughing in desperate attempt to catch his breath. Each outward breath came with another set of intricately constructed Portuguese curses.
Posted by alexstarkova on May 21, 2010 22:09:37 GMT -6
Guest
Thankfully, Ilari hadn't gotten to the point of physical exertion where his lungs burned as he tried to regain his breath. Still, evening out his breathing was an effort that took all of his concentration for a good stretch of time. He thought of nothing but the sweet nectar that was the oxygen he was pulling in passed his lips. His joints and muscles ached a bit, but it was a good ache, like the dull pain he got after a good day's workout. And the rain, as much as it dampened his powers, felt good. It was cool, and helped soothe his racing heart as he calmed down, steadily, from the sprint for his life.
And then he heard the cursing. Sluggishly, he turned his head over and shifted around to get a better view of his target. His hood was still plastered to the top of his head, but he could get a perfectly fine view of the pudgy, seemingly Hispanic man, cursing vehemently as he tried to breathe. The sight was somewhat interesting, for Ilari, and something about the whole thing just tickled something within the young Russian-American.
He started laughing. It was a rough, sort of raspy cough that made him sound like the smoker that he was, though it was also a quiet laugh, somewhat louder than a chuckle. Something about the situation had just struck Ilari as hilarious. It was possibly because he could identify such vitriolic cursing despite the language barrier, and after everything the two men had just gone through... it just seemed funny! He was going to mug a man that he'd just ended up leading to the roof of the building that he called home!
He rolled onto his back as the laughing picked up it's intensity. He started getting a bit hysterical in the catharsis of the moment. It wasn't the first time he'd done something like that. After one of his first failed pickpocketing outings, he'd run home, bruised and battered, and ended up collapsing on his bed in a fit of giggles.
He probably looked like a drug addict. Or a crazy person. Possibly both.
Posted by camazotz on May 23, 2010 20:34:48 GMT -6
Guest
Davi was already well through another loud breathless tirade when he recognized the sound of Ilari's laughter, and began to quiet. Everything hurt, from head to toe, his heart thundering, lungs burning, and muscles cramped almost to the point they felt like they were seized in place. It was excruciating, and absolutely pathetic; he could easily remember a time when that kind of action would barely have caused him to break a sweat. In fact, he could remember days where he and the other kids had done this kind of thing for fun down in Florida. The fact that the other man was laughing at him only served to further raise his exhausted ire, as he thought Ilari was laughing at his weakness and exhaustion. His words were an outright snarl as he spoke.
"And what is it that you think is so funny?!" was snapped in what was very surprisingly one raspy breath. Both amber eyes were locked onto the older man, looking absolutely venomous, though their earlier fire was no longer there. Their exhaustion was impossible to miss, especially considering that their owner wasn't getting up to do anything more in the way of fighting, either.