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.
Nestled around the city of New York, of any metropolis, to be exact, are the hidden cracks and passageways that people fear to look into. They hold the refuse, the garbage, all the unmentionables that nobody wants to acknowledge came from their own homes. Instead they sit here, collected in containers of plaster or aluminum, hidden away treasure chests into the hearts and minds of every citizen, in every city. In one of these alleys, walls slick with the primordial slime of missed trash days and floors sticking with the decomposed food, sits a lump of rags.
A lump of rags that breathes.
Situated against the corner, a shawl of denim, satin, wool and torn yarn, is pulled tighter around a relaxed form. Her breathing was slow, shallow, but not from sickness. It was simply the breathing of a relaxed individual caught in a phase of sleep. But slowly she stirred her sweet dreams shifted into nightmares.
“Hold still honey! We need to finish the rite!”
“Stop it! You’re crazy!!”
“Don’t let her squirm so much!”
“Daddy, please! Don’t!”
“It’ll only burn for second. We need to burn the demon out of you!”
Sizzzzzzles….!!
“Noooo!!!”
With a thrash, Agnes Nicholas bolted up from her seated position, her cloak and hood partially falling off her as she sat up, breathing heavily. Her pale skin reflected slightly in the moonlight, while her mess of brown hair hung about her neck and shoulders. She gasped as her hands inadvertently fell down to her soiled shirt and felt the raised brand that scarred her stomach so disgustingly. Her piercing blue eyes shot left and right as she reached up and wiped a cold sweat from her forehead.
She gripped her hair and pulled slightly, just to cause enough pain to her scalp to keep her awake. Agnes snarled as she stopped pulling and sat there gasping, trying to will memories and sleep away.
As she sat there, gently rubbing her scalp, Agnes sniffled as she pushed herself back against the brick wall and sat still. Then, she heard the scuttle and buzzing that accompanied her wherever she went. She looked up and around and sighed as several tiny dots of black slowly came into focus as they flew closer…they were flies. Flies that buzzed all about, clung to walls, but none ventured to come any closer.
A normal person would have shooed them away, but instead, she simply stared at them for a second before she turned to a dirty duffle bag that lay off to the side.
She sniffled as she unzipped the top and fished around inside the bag. The sounds various objects being brushed or crinkled reached her ears, but is ignored them until she finally able to pull out what she was looking for. Gently he removed a black instrument case. It was covered with various colorful stickers from an old life, one she no longer tried to remember.
Two snap locks opened and there it was…her violin. The one of the few reminders of her old life she made it a point to hold onto. Gently she placed the instrument on her shoulder, laid her chin on the chinrest and removed the bow from its case. The strings reflected in the dull moonlight, taunt and ready to be played. She sighed as she bow at the ready and began to play…
“They won’t find me,” she whispered as she played. “They won’t find me ever again…
For Amber, the night was her solace and her sanctuary. It was the only time she was truly comfortable, the only time she felt content within her own skin. During the daylight hours her flesh betrayed her, burning and blistering at the faintest hint of sunlight. When the sun was out she was forced, by the necessity of her cursed biology, to cover every inch of flesh with layers of fabric and even when the clouds obscured the sun her skin still felt its heat, although with less severity. Then there were the more visible aspects of her mutation, her pitch black eyes which never failed to draw negative reactions from the humans around her, or her paper white skin. Recently it had become even worse, her white flesh becoming slightly yellowed, dark shadows appearing under her eyes and her face becoming ever more gaunt. She was, in truth, looking more and more like a plague victim with every passing day, which served not at all to engender people to her good will.
The night offered every advantage to Amber that the day did not. Her skin remained cool and comfortable in the darkness, the moon's dim glow not being strong enough to do her any damage. Her tell tale eyes were harder to spot and even her pale and sickly flesh was easier to hide. So what if she was becoming ever more isolated against human contact, especially during her nocturnal hours? What did humans matter anyway? What need did she have of them, she who could turn into the most impressive of extinct creatures? She was a a prehistoric dinosaur shifter and in her myriad of different forms she held the keys to her own survival. What need did she really have of the humans all around her when, in truth, she could provide everything she needed for her own survival herself?
If Amber were honest with herself, as she wandered the alleys of New York City, she would admit that she was simply feeling more bitter and lonely than usual. The ever progressing signs of physical illness were both a mystery and a great stressor for her. Sure she didn't feel sick, but that didn't stop her from worrying. Either her mutation was turning her into a right and true monster, or she had caught some horrible plague. Either way she was feeling her ever growing isolation keenly. Sure she still had her sister, as unusual a sister as Aura was, and there was her boyfriend Kai. Plus, for the most part, the mutants of both Sanctuary and The Mansion were mostly accepting of her. But would that change if she grew into the monster she feared to become? She just didn't know and it was that lack of knowing that terrified her and the terror she masked by trying to make herself believe that she didn't need any of them anyway.
Amber didn't notice the violin playing at first, coming from one of the darker alleyways on her journey. Her human ears, compared to her other forms, were simply dull and couldn't hear very well. But as she grew closer, the sounds of violin playing became gradually louder and unmistakable. Why would anyone play such a glorious instrument in such a dark and degrading place as an alley? And in the middle of the night no less? Apprehension touched her mind briefly as she imagined what could possibly happen if she approached the wrong person in the middle of the night, musician or not, but the emotion quickly passed. After all, what kind of threat could a human be anyway?
So, giving into her curiosity, Amber wandered further into the alleyway until she caught a glimpse of the young woman playing the glorious instrument. In the dim light more detail was difficult to make out, but she couldn't help but think that had the circumstances of her life been just a little bit different and had Abyss not found and adopted her, she could very well have been the woman sitting playing in the middle of a dingy alley in the middle of the night. She stood there, silently listening and somehow glad she had decided not to bring her veil with her.
There she played, amongst the trash and discarded refuse that everyone tossed away without another care in the world. This young woman, a protégé back in her old life, played with eyes closed and her breath held. Her fingers were nimble and fast as she played, the bow pulled across the strings, making them sing like angels who have lost their way. She was an angel, trapped in a dark alley of garbage, spoilt food and buzzing insects. Even to her the music made her shed a tear. It reminded her too much of home, of her life where she would spend hours practicing to the point where if she could not play the right note she would want to break the instrument. But she never did. She loved it too much. Maybe that was why she could not let go of it. It was one of the few things she had truly and deeply loved in her life.
As the music rebounded off the walls, Agnes played on, ignored the feeling of the slime against the wall she rested against, ignored the bad smell of the decayed trash in the bins next to her, but there was something that kept nagging at her. Rested back, bow slicing across the strings, she felt something was off. Very cautiously she opened her eyes.
And that was when she saw her.
Agnes was quick to stop the music and began to step back from the intruder. She cursed herself because she was usually better than this. She never played long enough to pull someone’s attention but that nightmare had been a particularly rough one. She needed her music to soothe her, to calm her frayed nerves, to drown out the growl in her stomach. And now she was paying the price for that kind of comfort. Here she was, staring across at another teenager…with the whitest skin she had ever seen. And her brother used to call her pale.
She clutched her violin in a death grip, licked her moist lips and still backed away.
“I don’t have any money. I’m warning you, stay away from me…” she growled.
A dull buzzing could be heard now. It was obvious that her agitated state was awakening them. She did not want that to happen, but the nightmare mixed with this encounter by the strange young girl only succeeded in putting her more on edge. Before she could help it, the buzzing grew louder in her chest and she could feel them moving. She needed to calm down…otherwise the hive would be awake.
Amber watched the strange woman playing the violin in the middle of the degraded alley intently, letting the music guide her own thoughts and feelings. It was so very sad and she wondered at the woman's history. What could cause her to create such mournful melodies that tugged at her heart and brought her thoughts into her own sorrowful history? Even Amber, lonely and forgotten as she often felt, didn't know such sorrow as the piercing notes of the stranger before her hinted at. Sure her own past was haunted in its own way, bereft of love and acceptance, but in the end her life had turned around. In the end, just when things got to be their worst, Abyss had found her and offered her a new life. She now had a family, both a father and a sister. But still, how easily it was that the woman before her could have been her if one single thread of her life had been cut.
Amber wished dearly she had her own violin with her, her one possession that she treasured above all her other possessions. She wished to join her own loneliness in song with that of the stranger before. But, alas, she didn't have it as a violin was not easy to hold onto should she have to unexpectedly shift and she simply couldn't bear the thought of losing it. No, her own instrument was home in the warm safe confines of Sanctuary, sitting there waiting for her deft fingers to take it into her and ply nearly magical notes from its strings. Magical, at least, in its own way because it was often the only way she knew to express her innermost fears and emotions.
For the longest time the stranger didn't appear to notice Amber standing there and watching and she was content with that, remaining utterly silent as she listened, enraptured. Was that was she herself looked like in the throes of her own music? She couldn't truly say, never having watched herself play before. But it was how she felt, certainly.
“I don’t have any money. I’m warning you, stay away from me…”
It was almost a shock to realize that the young woman had spotted her and to hear the woman's voice come out, somewhat panicked. "I d-don't need your money," Amber stated, trying to keep her voice calm and soothing. She spread her hands in a universal gesture of peace and non-threat but didn't come any closer. Was that a faint buzzing that she heard? It was impossible to tell and she silently cursed her weak human ears. It was funny how quickly one became accustomed to the advantages of another form. "I th-thought your p-playing was beautiful." It was probably a good thing that her eyes were hard to see clearly in the near darkness.
>> "I d-don't need your money...I th-thought your p-playing was beautiful."
Agnes stood still and eyed the girl closely. What was wrong with her eyes? They seemed so unnerving, then again she knew something about unnerving people. She was still agitated, enough to keep her hest buzzing with the sounds of a slowly awakening hive. She wanted to get angry, to rant and scream at being interrupted. She had done it before to other destitute people who stumbled upon her. She could be downright terrifying, with the thunder sound of buzzing and the cloud of blackness that would surround her.
But there was something about the girl. She did not know what it was, but it seemed as if she had some kind of inkling as to what suffering was. She looked sickly, like she ran away from a hospital or something while taking some sort of treatment. Was that her story? Maybe she was a runaway asylum patient? Maybe they experimented on her? Agnes did not know. What she did know was that this teen stood before her, and had intruded on her most sacred of times.
She never used to be this angry. Mutations and exorcisms tend to bring out the worst in you.
“You weren’t supposed to hear that.” she sniffled slightly as she remembered the piece that she just played. “It was private.”
She cautiously turned her back on the girl and knelt down. She carefully set her violin back into its cast and stowed it back into her duffel bag. Once it was in, she zipped it up and pulled the strap back over shoulder and spun to face the intruder. So far she had begun to calm. Her chest had finally stopped buzzing, her little friends having returned to their dormant sleep. She hated using her ability. It was disgusting and startling and only confirmed all the reasons her parents gave for nearly killing her by exorcism. But in a pinch, it could be helpful, especially when it came to saving her hide. Then again, the girl really did not seem like that much of a threat. But in this day with mutants everywhere, could anyone be trusted?
The homeless mutant made her way towards the fence at the back of the alley. She had raised her hands and placed them onto the edge of the wood. A quick hop and she could be over and gone in a second. But something stopped her. She turned and the other girl was still there. A heavy sigh felt from Agnes’ lips as she rose a brow and finally addressed her again.
“Thank you. That was kind of you to say about my music.” she said as she stood there and watched. When the last time she actually had a conversation?
“You weren’t supposed to hear that.It was private.”
Amber nodded and looked down at her feet, feeling uncomfortable. The music being private she could understand, her own music was normally private too. Sometimes one simply didn't want to bear ones soul in front of people, especially if the people were complete strangers. "I'm s-sorry. I d-didn't know." Truly she was sorry but there was little she could do about her intrusion now. Hopefully the woman would understand. She hadn't meant anything by it, after all.
No longer distracted by the music, Amber took the time to really look at the woman. She was young, maybe not much older than Amber herself was and rather pale. The unusual thing, however, was the large number of flying insects around her, mostly flies from what she could tell. That and the strange buzzing noise, which sounded far too similar to the buzzing of a nest of bees to be entirely coincidental. And if it was not coincidental, did that mean the woman was a mutant? It would make sense, given the mournful music, the stranger's lack of desire to have anyone else hear her music and the alleyway she was currently lurking in. Those factors added to the more unusual factors had to add up to mutant. Probably.
“Thank you. That was kind of you to say about my music.”
Amber nodded thoughtfully. "I p-play the violin too. Sometimes its the only th-thing that keeps me sane." She smiled up at the slightly taller woman, wondering exactly how she was to broach the subject of being a mutant. "I'm Amber." An introduction, at least, had to be a good start. That and the fact that she took no pains to hide her rather unusual eyes. Her own mutation was unmistakable. Humans, after all, did not have eyes of darkness. Hopefully the woman would see that and know that she understood and that they might, in a way, even be kindred spirits. Mutants had to stick together and protect one another because in the human-filled hostile world that they lived in no one else would stick up for them.
"D-do you have a place to stay?" Especially if the woman was a mutant, it wasn't such a leap of faith to assume that she probably didn't. Well adjusted humans didn't play expensive instruments and beautiful music in run down decrepit alleyways. It just didn't happen.
The words rebounded in her head as she stood there and stared at the pale girl. She really did just apologize to her and it sounded like she meant it. How long had it been since someone had said anything like that to her? Agnes could not remember. Mostly people on the streets either looked past her with dead, fish-like eyes, or with contempt or pity. She did not want anyone’s charity, whether that be a sad sigh for her plight, or an offer to take her to a shelter. She hated that most people tried to up their own opinion of themselves by hiding behind the act of good deeds.
But this teen did not seem to be offering her pity. She was genuinely sorry. That eased the tension in her chest and calmed the buzzing inside.
>> "I p-play the violin too. Sometimes its the only th-thing that keeps me sane."
“Sanity is overrated. Even the most sane can be the most cruel.”
The comment made the flicker of a smile appear on her face. So she was another music aficionado. She did not know how true that was. Sometimes people tried to connect with others by saying they were interested in the same things that the other was. Hidden in her dark alleys, Agnes had heard it all the time. The lies lovers told their mistresses, the fibs children told their parents when asked what they did that day, she had heard them all. But she would not question the girl right now.
>> "I'm Amber…D-do you have a place to stay?"
Agnes was surprised, which rarely happens, for just a moment. The girl was still trying to connect with her. The vermin queen was ready to leap away and head back into the poisoned heart of the city, and still the pale teen was trying to talk to her. She tilted her head to the side as she remained stock still. This is how conversations went, wasn’t it? She couldn’t remember. First idle chat, then the introduction of names, occupations, loves and hates? Agnes remained unmoving until finally, after what seemed like an eon of standing there (though it has only been a couple of seconds), she gently set down her bag to the ground.
The flies that had been agitated returned to their resting places on the walls, billions of eyes watched both these two young women as they conversed.
“Agnes…” she then waved her arms over the entire alley and shrugged. “This is where I stay. Or whatever alley I want, actually.” As stood there, the girl came more into focus and Agnes realized how black her eyes were. How sick and decrepit she looked. She wondered if the girl was real, a figment of her imagination brought on by lack of food and sleep. But no, she was real. Even Agnes had not lost that much of her mind. But why the odd, Night of the Living Dead appearance? Finally, emboldened she simply asked. “Never seen eyes like yours before. Are you a cursed too?”
“Sanity is overrated. Even the most sane can be the most cruel.”
Amber offered an all too knowing look of her own and quarked her lips in an expression that could almost be called a smile if not for the sorrow in the expression. "Sometimes," she agreed. "Sometimes it might b-be easier just to let to and flee into your own mental w-world away from everyone else. B-but I'm not really sure that would be better. It would b-be very lonely." She had spent far too many hours contemplating such things before her family had rescued her. Less now that she had Abyss and Aura, but there were still times when she secretly clung to that desire.
“Agnes…This is where I stay. Or whatever alley I want, actually.”
Amber felt a pang of sorrow for the woman. It wasn't fair that anyone should have to live on the streets and it was doubly unfair that mutants should have to do so, even if she still wasn't posative that Agnes was a mutant. It was the first thing her family had taught her, that being a mutant was something to be proud of and that she should try to help her fellow mutants. She tried her best, truly she did, although sometimes she felt powerless to do much of anything. Sure her power was impressive in its own right, but the ability to change into prehistoric predators just wasn't very helpful beyond assisting in the defence of her fellow mutant.
“Never seen eyes like yours before. Are you a cursed too?”
Amber shook her head horrified not at the prospect that her gift could be considered a curse, but by the fact that the mere fact of being a mutant could be considered a curse. "Not cursed," she stated, definitively yet still with a hint of sadness. "Not blessed exactly b-but gifted. I d-don't know what you can do nor d-do I know what the p-price of what you can do is, b-but what I do know is whatever it is that's what makes you special. Learn t-to embrace it."
Amber's pitch black eyes searched Agnes' trying to divine her mind by force of will. There was a time she woudl have felt the same way, that her gift was indeed a curse. Abyss and Aura had helped her see otherwise. Sure her skin burned and blistered at the faintest hint of sunlight, but who was she to complain when she was able to change her very body into fantastic and powerful forms? There was always a price. Always. "If you n-need a place to stay I know of a p-place. I live there. Its a place for m-mutants to find sanctuary. You'll be safe there."
>> "Not cursed…Not blessed exactly b-but gifted. I d-don't know what you can do nor d-do I know what the p-price of what you can do is, b-but what I do know is whatever it is that's what makes you special. Learn t-to embrace it."
Agnes inadvertently rolled her eyes and stepped back from Amber. Great, so she was going to be one those types. The kind she’s heard about that go around preaching about acceptance of your powers, that they were not curses, but they were gifts made to show you were above humans. The vermin queen snorted at this thought. If that were true, she would not be living in the lap of luxury that she was right now, scrounging around for spoilt food and enough cloth to patch up her torn cloaks. She shook her head as she leaned back against the fence.
>> "If you n-need a place to stay I know of a p-place. I live there. Its a place for m-mutants to find sanctuary. You'll be safe there."
“You don’t actually believe that do you? We are all gifted and some such? That’s a lie.” she muttered as she toe kicked the ground a little, arms crossed over her chest. “If we were so ‘gifted’ we wouldn’t be chased around by people with pitchforks and torches. And I don’t need charity.”
Her hands found their way to her stomach and against she felt that disfiguring scar. People used to say she was beautiful once. Even the guys at school, though she would never go so far as to date anyone without her parents permission, they fawned at her. And now look at her? Living on the streets, eating trash and talking to roaches and flies. This was no gift.
The thoughts were leading her down a dark path. Her mind reeled as she remembered those faces, those presumably loving faces that all called her pretty or encouraged her to ask some guy out to the dance. But the second this happened to her, everything changed. Their faces became plastered with scowls, condescending smirks, disgust or fear. Her phone stopped ringing, people stopped coming by, even her parents who always preached understanding love, looked at her completely different. She was a pestilence now…a devil spawn…
Her anger rose and that buzzing returned from her chest. It was deafening now and as much as she wanted to stop it, there would be no doing so. She stepped back and made motions for Amber to back away as far as she could. If she were too close they would attack her, assuming that she was the threat. Before she could help it, Agnes pressed herself back against the wall and opened her mouth.
The buzz was deafening as suddenly a mixed cloud of black flies and yellow/black wasps flew from her mouth on the defense. They formed a thick mass around her, flying to and fro, looking for any threat to attack. But that was not the end of it. From the recesses of her throat several black shapes crawled out, skittering across her lips and down her arms to fall onto the ground. They were roaches, small but they ran, staying close to Agnes, but also looked just as aggressive.
She gasped as she regained her breath, standing in a swarm of flying and crawling insects. She looked squarely at Amber, her eyes sad and filled with pain.
“Still think it’s a gift?” he muttered as she sniffled and leaned back against the wall.
Amber caught the disdainful eye roll and wished she could help Agnes to understand. It wasn't that she was niave, not any more at any rate, nor did she have an unrealistic view that everything to do with mutants was posative. How could she, after all, given the steep price that she had paid for her own power? It was just that the posative outweighed the negatives on the balance of things and besides, even if they didn't what could really be done about it anyway? They were mutants so they may as well make the best of things.
“You don’t actually believe that do you? We are all gifted and some such? That’s a lie. We were so ‘gifted’ we wouldn’t be chased around by people with pitchforks and torches. And I don’t need charity.”
"We're ch-chased around by people because they're afraid and b-because there are some bad mutants out there that cause their fear," Amber answered. She, of all people, knew what it felt like to be chased by angry mobs of humans. It had happened more than once during the short time since she had become a mutant and they were among the most terrifying and distressing experiences in her life. "They are afraid and j-jealous of us and humans lash out at th-those things that they fear." She didn't touch on her offer of charity. Either Anges would accept or she wouldn't and pressing the matter wasn't going to change things. Besides, if it wasn't for her family she wasn't certain she would have accepted either, at least not right away.
Unexpectently Agnes gestured for Amber to step back and the buzzing that she had heard earlier returned, stronger than it had been before. She obeyed, taking a large step back, confusion written on her face. If there was one thing she had learned about mutants it was that many of them were dangerous and it was usually best to listen to such advice when given.
Amber wasn't certain what she was expecting after the warning, but she was certain that she wasn't expecting a swarm of wasps and other insects to erupt from Agnes' mouth and begin swarming angerly around her. Despite her very best efforts Amber couldn't prevent the tendril of fear that overcame her. She didn't yell, didn't take a step back or even stop looking directly at the mutant teenager in front of her. She did not, in fact, make any intentional action that hinted at the fear she felt. She couldn't prevent her subconcious reaction, however, as she felt her skin prickle and shift and knew that scales had begun to form on her skin. She forced herself calm again, trying her best to will the shift to halt and reverse itself. She managed, barely, to halt it though couldn't manage to make the scales disappear. No matter, it would do.
"If you allow it to be a gift it could be," Amber answered, her voice coming out slightly garbled as she tried to work a slightly deformed tongue around pointed teeth. "We don't get to choose our power but we do choose what we make of it."
>> "If you allow it to be a gift it could be…We don't get to choose our power but we do choose what we make of it."
Agnes sniffled as she slowly pressed herself back against the wall, trying not to peer back at Amber, this intruder into her domain. She was not angry with her. She just had lofty ideals and unfortunately Agnes had too much experience with people who have lofty ideals and what that can do for their decision making abilities. After all, who was it that said that ‘the road to hell is paved in good intentions’?
She wanted to send the girl off but she was still trying to convince her. Slowly Agnes began to calm and in doing so, her multi-legged minions began to relax themselves. They fluttered back to her, and she stared at them in slight contempt. They wanted to be home and she knew there was only one way for that to happen. She raised her hand to excuse herself from Amber and turned to hide behind some boxes. Once there she opened her mouth wide.
Flies, wasps, roaches, they all climbed and buzzed back into her mouth, down her throat and returned to those comfortable casings in her chest that they called home. Because of her mutation, she had no gag reflex, but it was still a disgusting sight to behold. There was no reason for Amber to see that. Instead Agnes was respectfully hidden as she swallowed her insect swarm. It took only seconds for the cloud of blackness that once surrounded her to disappear fully into her body once more. Her chest buzzed briefly, with the feeling of insects getting nestled into their home, before it finally ceased.
Slowly Agnes turned back to Amber and gave her a sad look.
“I’m sorry, I get what you are saying, I do.” she said as she leaned back against the wall. “But I stopped believing in learning to make your own destiny a long time ago.”
She paused as she looked at her fellow teen closely. Amber looked in shock. Agnes was not surprised by that, what she was shocked by was that she had not run away screaming yet. With a heavy sigh she realized that the girl would not be going anywhere soon.
“What’re you doing out here anyway?” Agnes asked as she crossed her arms over her chest. “If this place you come from is so great why are you slumming out here? Don’t you know you can get killed?”
Amber watched Agnes carefully as slowly, ever so slowly, her swarm of insects began to calm themselves. She wondered whether or not her scales would protect her against the stings of such creatures. In her Styracosaurus form almost certainly as its skin and scales were extremely thick, but her Deinonychus form, which also happened to be her favourite, probably not so much. From biting insects maybe, because scales were scales and that meant they were more hardy than fragile human flesh, but they probably wouldn't be thick enough to truly do much against something that stung. It wasn't something that she particularly wanted to test first hand, however.
As the swarm calmed down and finally (fascinatingly) returned through Agnes' mouth, Amber's scales began melting away. She breathed a sigh of relief, not only at the nerves the flying vermin had caused her, but also at the pain and stress of her own power dissipating. It was one of the prices she was forced to pay for her gift, the fact that her transformations were accompanied by almost unbearable pain. It was also a price that she paid willingly and without complaint. Well, with minimal complaint at least.
“I’m sorry, I get what you are saying, I do. But I stopped believing in learning to make your own destiny a long time ago.”
Once again Amber was struck by how similar she and Agnes were, even if the other woman didn't yet realize it. Her own life had also been bound by the whims of chance. The only difference was that she had made a decision that she would no longer be at chance's mercy. That part of her life was done and over with and it was now time for her to forge her own path in the world. "You might not b-believe me but I understand, I d-do. I g-grew up an orphan, my parents didn't want me and so they abandoned me. I c-can't go out in the s-sunlight safely because I'm an albino and the sun b-burns my flesh. I only have the l-life I have now because someone who cares found me by choice and adopted me. So I u-understand. B-better than you might think."
Amber wasn't positive why she told the other woman her story, she had told so few people. But she thought that maybe, just maybe, if she could get Anges to understand that it was possible to escape the shackles that life dealt you, that maybe she could make a difference in her life.
“What’re you doing out here anyway? If this place you come from is so great why are you slumming out here? Don’t you know you can get killed?”
To that comment Amber couldn't help but grin. "I c-can change into dinosaurs. Not many would kill a dinosaur. B-besides, the night is kind of the only t-time I feel comfortable." Another admition she wasn't sure why she made, though it was too late to take it back now. Besides, what harm could it really do for the other woman to know anyway? It wasn't like her adopted father didn't know about her night time excursions.
>> "You might not b-believe me but I understand, I d-do. I g-grew up an orphan, my parents didn't want me and so they abandoned me. I c-can't go out in the s-sunlight safely because I'm an albino and the sun b-burns my flesh. I only have the l-life I have now because someone who cares found me by choice and adopted me. So I u-understand. B-better than you might think."
So the young woman did know what suffering was like. Agnes could only watch her in curiosity as she leaned back against the fence and scraped her foot gently against the ground. She had not run away in disgust when she swallowed the swarm again. Instead it was like Amber was trying to connect with her, to get to know her. But still, when Amber began to speak about all her downfalls, she could only shake her head. How could she still stand there and praises mutations? It seemed to cause more suffering than any good.
Agnes nodded her head as she pushed off the fence and stepped a little closer, but in an idle, slightly friendlier way.
“I’m sorry, that you have to suffer so much as well,” she muttered as she looked about her alleyway. It had been so long since she actually had a person to person conversation that did not end in yelling or terror, that she had almost forgotten what it was like to be sensitive to another person’s problems.
Then, as their conversation switched over to Agnes’ warning about the dangers of the night, Amber seemed to have a couple of surprises of her own up her sleeves.
>> "I c-can change into dinosaurs. Not many would kill a dinosaur. B-besides, the night is kind of the only t-time I feel comfortable."
“A…dinosaur shifter?” Agnes asked a little surprised as she watched her. “You’re telling me that you can turn yourself into a real, living, breathing dinosaur?”
Agnes was not sure why that shocked her so much. To be honest many times when she used to live at home she would hear news reports about wild mutant attacks. Some with powers that seemed far stranger than simply changing into a dinosaur. But until now, all those had simply been stories, things that could possibly be left up to figments of the imagination, unreliable witnesses or even video or picture tampering. Still though…becoming a dinosaur…that was pretty hard to top.
“I’m sorry, I’ve…just never really heard of something like that. Surprisingly enough in this day and age,” she said as she shook her head.
“I’m sorry, that you have to suffer so much as well,”
It wasn't quite the reaction Amber had been hoping for but she nodded her acknowledgment anyway. "B-but in the end it was worth it, you see? Nothing in th-this world is free." The more time she spent among her fellow mutants the more she realized the truth of that. Not one that she had ever seen had been entirely without some degree of suffering or some price paid for their power. It was, perhaps, a way to balance things in the world. Or perhaps that was what forced mutants, most of them at least, to keep perspective in life. Some had powers in which it would be far too easy to lose track of the fact that they were still mortal and were still confined by the laws of mortality. Such weaknesses worked to remind them of such, even if not all of them chose to heed that reminder.
“A…dinosaur shifter? You’re telling me that you can turn yourself into a real, living, breathing dinosaur?”
Amber chuckled just a little at Agnes' reaction although there was no malicious intent in it. She never seemed to get tired of the reaction that her power elicited in others. "Real dinosaurs," she agreed, "although I'm not sure if alive is quite the right word for them." The second part was stated with a thoughtful frown. In recent weeks she had come to see that her dinosaurs didn't look exactly how a dinosaurs should, not that she really knew what a dinosaur was supposed to look like. There was something subtly wrong about them, almost as if they weren't entirely living. She coudln't quite explain it and wasn't quite ready to try.
“I’m sorry, I’ve…just never really heard of something like that. Surprisingly enough in this day and age,”
"It is a little unusual isn't it?" Amber had met other shifters before, just not any quite like her. "I d-don't think I've met anyone who could create swarms of insects either." Now that they were no longer swarming about and she was no longer worried that they might attack her at a moment's notice, she no longer had any fear of them. Insects had never been something she considered terribly frightening, but it was only common sense to be a little apprehensive at the prospects of hundreds of wasps mobbing and stinging you. She thought that maybe if she showed Agnes her lack of fear and, in fact, her curiosity, perhaps she might be able to get her to trust her a little.
Agnes had said nothing as she listened to Amber speak on her own curse. The ability to turn into dinosaurs truly seemed like a terrifying power. And unfortunately a side effect of her curse seemed to be the fact that she had a hard time out in sunlit. Agnes could not imagine that, having to say goodbye to the light in such a way. Yes she did not go out and hang around the people as much anymore, but the truth is that the option was still there if she ever wanted it. Amber on the other hand, she needed to get used to the night. That was only time she felt like herself, or so she said. Agnes inadvertently smirked at the irony in that. To be honest these alleys in the dark were really the only time she could be herself as well.
After all, she would never play her violin in the daytime.
The conversation then shifted and Agnes and sigh a little at Amber’s comments about her abilities. She had to admit that the prospect that no one else had these abilities made her thankful. She could not bear the thought that anyone else would have to deal with this mess. Then again, why was it that she had to?
>> "It is a little unusual isn't it? I d-don't think I've met anyone who could create swarms of insects either."
Meekly Agnes nodded as she headed over to an upturned crate and slowly took a seat onto it. She was still tired from her lack of sleeping but all she needed to do was sit down, even it was only for a little bit. She had to admit, that it felt kind of good to be talking to someone knew. For so long she had simply been despising everyone, snarling whenever others tried to get close. But it helped that someone actually wanted to TRY and get to know her. After all, she mattered for something too didn’t she? She simply had to.
“I…don’t actually create them.” she sniffled as she reached u and rubbed her throat gently. Whether it was out of discomfort or shyness she did not know, nor did she delve into it. “They live…within me, right here.” she pointed to her own chest and sighed a little sadly. “It’s…disgusting. I hate them so much….but they’ve saved my life over and over again. Then again…maybe it might be better than never did.”
Same old conversation with the same old Agnes. Sometimes she really wished she had never been saved by these bugs so long ago. If she had simply laid back and died, then she would never had lost her old life the way she did. She would have simply ceased to live. At times, that seemed like the better option than having to struggle the way she did, the way she has so far seen so many others do.