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 Verdigris on Nov 22, 2010 18:26:07 GMT -6
Beta Mutant
512
0
May 15, 2013 18:46:44 GMT -6
Verdy was dreaming. All fleeting feelings from the pervious night had abandoned her, and she was alone in the darkness. Instantly her world was filled with colour, and light, and her dream-body blinked in the dazzle. As the dream came into focus, she knew it was a dream, it seemed to be memories of the times with Andrew, flashing past in super-speed for parts, slowing down into extreme slow motion for others.
It was strange to watch herself doing the things, rather than seeing everything from a first-person perspective, but then again, this was a dream. She could be watching it upside down hanging by the ankles from the sky and it would still be unremarkable because it was a dream. Suddenly, the dream changed, warmth dissipated into icy cold, the light seeped away into greys and blacks, dim flashes of the occasional colour here and there.
Red carpet, green tie.
She was in her work clothes. The fitted jacket seemed to weigh her down, pin her against the hard wooden seats. Andrew was in the stand, and someone in a suit was screaming questions at him. She couldn’t hear the words, everything was muffled, like she was underwater. She gasped for breath, trying to suck air into her frozen lungs. This wasn’t good, this was awful.
Her body twitched, and she puffed as if the air in the room had turned to mud and she was trying to soak in any semblance of oxygen left. Verdigris Willow didn’t snore, but she had vivid dreams and a nasty habit of talking through them.
She rose, when the instruction ‘all rise’ was given. She sat, as the questions flew back and forth, until finally it was time for the judgement to come forth. She held her breath, and when the verdict was given, she gave a sob, of relief, or of distress. She couldn’t tell what it was, her dream denied her the knowledge of what the court decided, she couldn’t even see the mouth of the person who read the piece of paper to try and lip-read. She could still see Andrew though, sitting in the stand, his eyes drawing her in. Drawing her in.
“Andy…”
She wanted to draw him into her arms, make everything better. Show the court that he was a good person, that he should go free. No bad person could own a dog as adorable as their Jack, right? Her helpful mind supplied the fact that Jack was a shelter dog, rescued from an abusive home. Not only –could- a bad person own Jack, a bad person –had- owned Jack.
The dream world rocked, as if the entire world had had an earthquake. Everything tumbled, and then was gone, she was back in the dark, but this time, she wasn’t asleep.
Her bed was warmer than she expected it to be, perhaps she had slept in, and the sun was across the bed, warming her. Her eyes opened slowly, to glance at the bedside clock. Instead of the glow of digital numbers, a different kind of face was there to look at. She blinked once, twice. He was still there. She thought about this for a moment, pondering what he was doing in her bed. She ran a hand through her tousled hair, then remembered.
This was not, in fact, her bed. This was his bed, and she had come here in the middle of the night, climbed into bed with him, and found out that he wasn’t actually gay. Also, that she was hot. Her cheeks reddened and she rubbed her eyes.
Posted by Verdigris on Nov 22, 2010 9:10:09 GMT -6
Beta Mutant
512
0
May 15, 2013 18:46:44 GMT -6
Verdy gave a surprised nod. Had she told Detective Cervantes that the mansion was where she lived? She was fairly certain she hadn’t, and put it down to the fact that he was a mutant-related cop, talking to mutants, it was to be expected that they knew what he was talking about. On that note, she knew she had told him of her own mutation, but would he know of Andrew’s? Possibly, but better not to mention it, just in case.
The dogs seemed more than happy to become friends, streaking around after each other in an overly complicated doggy version of ‘tag’, no rules, she couldn’t understand it, but they were happy, and that she understood. It was good for Jack, to get out and make some friends.
The story of the bumble-bee mutant was a little gross, but she found herself more intrigued, than disgusted. The different ways that the X-gene manifested itself were endlessly curious and often unusual. She idly wondered if they had to use smoke, to subdue the bee-mutant. It seemed appropriate.
Jorge asked about their meeting and she raised her eyebrows. Close… very close…
“Almost. He tried to rescue me when I tripped, actually, but I was just a little too quick for him. We got talking and things just happened.”
Things like rampaging through a shopping centre having mock battles, and deciding to adopt a dog, and stealing kisses, and actually adoptinga dog. But the grizzled detective didn’t need to know that. Any of it. Except perhaps the bits about Jack. The others were sure to get them more knowing looks from the detective.
“Then since we got Jack we’ve been seeing a little more of each other while we get to know him.”
There really was quite a lot of personality bundled up in that pile of fur and ever-wagging-tail.
Posted by Verdigris on Nov 22, 2010 5:52:06 GMT -6
Beta Mutant
512
0
May 15, 2013 18:46:44 GMT -6
She had never seen a real trial, but the thought that he could get up against someone like Judge Judy from the snatches of daytime television she had seen here and there was quite a disturbing notion. All they could do was hope for a reasonable judge, and someone to put forward their argument properly.
Wait, their argument?
A frown touched her features briefly. Was this really something she wanted to get involved with? She couldn’t really get involved, but she could go to the trial, and sit in the stands. Not cheering him on, obviously, but providing a little emotional support, someone not part of the actual situation, a flash of the normal, in a crazy world where not even the words made sense; defendants, plaintiffs, it was all so confusing.
She seemed to have broken his obsession with staring at the ceiling, and now his attention had turned to her. Did he ever blink? She stared back at him for a little while, trying to figure out what it was he was thinking of behind those eyes, staring into her own. If he wasn’t of an orientation which meant that they could never be, this could be the start of something… Or perhaps the continuation, since normal people didn’t usually start with pillow talk.
Why did all the gorgeous ones have to be gay? Maybe it was better when he was staring at the ceiling, not drawing her in with those big, hazel-brown eyes. Her pounding heart was only kept in check by the fact that it couldn’t happen, wouldn’t happen. Momentarily she wondered if he could feel the pulse in her wrist still laying across his bare chest. That there was no way that he thought of her… like… that.
Whaaaaaaaaaaaat?!?!
A rapid flushing of the face, she was in bed, with a guy, who thought she was hot. Who was the Daddy of her baby-Jack. Who she was snuggled up next to, comfortable in the belief that he was gay and wouldn’t take it the wrong way. Oh dear. The fact that she had flutteries in her gut had nothing to do with the feeling which had brought her here in the middle of the night.
Or, perhaps it had everything to do with the feeling which had brought her here in the middle of the night.
Andrew’s yawn would have made her yawn if she wasn’t so nervous, he was inching closer and closer and after a statement like that it was pretty clear what was going to happen. She didn’t mind. In fact, she had already kissed the young man once, another wouldn’t hurt and guessing by the thumping in her chest might do her some good (30mins of elevated heart rate per day people!). She closed her eyes as his nose came level with hers and waited.
And waited.
Aaaaand waited…
Soft breathing wasn’t quite what she expected, so she peeked one eye open, and then the other. She had to stifle a chuckle, finally poor Andrew had got to sleep without that frown on his face. Brushing the hair off his forehead she placed a gentle kiss there and snuggled down next to him to steal his warmth. It wasn’t worth walking back to her room in the cold and the dark when here the feeling had abated.
Posted by Verdigris on Nov 22, 2010 0:17:47 GMT -6
Beta Mutant
512
0
May 15, 2013 18:46:44 GMT -6
Andrew looked confused, she moved her head from his shoulder and placed it on her hand, her elbow propped up on the bed, so she was looking down on her friend and thought back over what she had said. The last few sentences hadn’t been too wordy, to muddle him with their length. Not like those from before which confused even her, the speaker.
He wouldn’t look at her, he just kept his gaze fixed firmly on the ceiling. Curious, she followed his line of sight and glanced up. There was nothing there, at least not that she could see, and she glanced back at her friend with a frown. What was he thinking about, staring off into the distance? Was he reliving the moment of the shooting, trying to see a way that he could have avoided all the bad things? A different path?
“Do you know what will happen, when the family press charges?”
It seemed sad to bring it up again, but anything to keep him from frowning up at the poor, unoffending light fixture. It had done nothing wrong. Perhaps talking about it, getting it out in the open, would make it seem less daunting, like looking under the bed for monsters in the daytime. She wished there was something she could do to make it better, a way so that her skin could just absorb the sadness right out of him, like paper towel on juice-soaked carpet.
Posted by Verdigris on Nov 21, 2010 18:02:39 GMT -6
Beta Mutant
512
0
May 15, 2013 18:46:44 GMT -6
Andrew hadn’t snuggled into the hug as she expected, but he had other things on his mind, and who was to say he was a touchy-feely person anyway. She considered retracting her arm, but experienced a wave of selfishness in that his bare chest was quite warm against her cool fingers. Tough for him if he didn’t like hugs. She did.
He elaborated a little on the subject, and she wriggled closer until her tummy was touching his side (overdue for that boxing-benefits, her subconscious noted) and her shoe-clad feet rested somewhere near his calves. Darned shortness. His voice had changed, and the change in tone could only prompt her to one thing, more hugs! That and reassuring words.
“Adrenaline makes things happen. Maybe you could have stopped, maybe you couldn’t, but you did what you could, to save a friend.”
But he hadn’t meant to kill the man. At least not how it happened. It seemed much more likely that someone could heal from a chest wound than a headshot. If he was as inexperienced as she was with real guns, it was remarkable he had hit the man at all. A life for a life, the muggers for that of Jorge. On the morality scale it seemed a hundred times better for the muggers to be the one lost, and yet…
“And if you hadn’t have done something then Jorge would be dead, and maybe you too. You did what you could, it’s in the past, and there’s nothing you can do to change it now.”
She suspected that somewhere out there was a mutant with the ability to rewind time, but even if it were possible, would it change anything? Or would the rewound Andrew do exactly the same thing over again? She rested her chin against his shoulder, he smelled nice, she noted and tried to think of something to say that could make him feel… if not better, at least not so bad.
“I don’t think that you’re a bad person. I think that some bad things happened to you, but that doesn’t make you the one in the wrong.”
Posted by Verdigris on Nov 21, 2010 5:19:01 GMT -6
Beta Mutant
512
0
May 15, 2013 18:46:44 GMT -6
Relief and fear mixed on his face and her suspicions were confirmed. First by his body language, then by his admission. So Jorge and he were involved in a police-criminal kind of way. Who would’ve thought. The bed wasn’t really the right length for the tall man’s stretched out legs, as well as her perched self, so she wriggled around until she was laying next to him, not quite touching, but facing him so they both fit without fear of slipping off.
Which was ok, because it couldn’t be taken the wrong way.
She had said it didn’t really matter, so she wouldn't ask why, but at the same time it did matter, the confusion she was feeling must have been nothing next to that of Andrew's. Her opinion of her friend wasn’t changed by the knowledge of what he had done, true she was surprised, but still, the man was dead (she figured, since he called himself a ‘killer’, not a ‘maimer’) so the reason he died wasn’t really important. It seemed to be plaguing Andrew though, as of course it would, and that seemed to place him in a better light than if he had simply shrugged it off. She put her top arm around his chest and squeezed gently, hugs couldn’t make everything better, but they helped.
“Jorge is a good man, and good at his job. I’m sure he’ll help to get you through it without too much drama.”
As she had said to him, things happen. Sometimes by accident, sometimes not. That the family wanted to press charges was difficult for Andrew, and would obviously prolong his guilt at what had happened, and surely the family couldn’t feel any better about dragging him into court. Not only would it not bring back their son, it would put the man who removed the son from the mortal earth in front of them, possibly for days, while the whole thing got sorted out.
How anyone could believe that Andrew would maliciously harm someone escaped her, yet loss made people do strange things all the time, and perhaps it had happened in a moment of rage which she had glimpsed before. When you bottle all the feelings up inside, sometimes they just spill over. She squeezed him in an awkward half-armed hug again. There was not really anything she could do, other than support him, her knowledge of the legal system was limited, to say the least, and she knew nothing about courtrooms or much about what happened in them. All she could do was listen, and hope.
Posted by Verdigris on Nov 21, 2010 3:22:30 GMT -6
Beta Mutant
512
0
May 15, 2013 18:46:44 GMT -6
Methuselah? Wasn’t the detective’s name Jorge?
She assumed from the sentence around the name that it was someone very old, at a guess probably biblical, but she let it slide in preference of the next joking remark. She smiled, whatever awkwardness from the little back and forth of Jorge seemed to have dissipated. It was none of her business, and so it was not worth thinking on.
“By extension then, are we also your most hated students, the banes of your existence?”
Andrew threw the ball for Jack, but after one run the dog’s attention turned to something decidedly more living. Tail wagging furiously he approached the smaller bitch, waited to make sure she wasn’t going to snap and snarl at him again, then proceeded to sniff her all over, making happy growly noises in his doggy throat. Friends were fun.
Asking about the date with the unknown ‘Gemma’ seemed a little forward, so she opted instead for something she did know about the detective, namely his detective-ness.
“So, how’s the police force of NYC treating you?”
She wasn’t certain, but she suspected the mutants of the city would be keeping him nice and busy. That was why there was the mutant-thingy unit he was a part of in the first place, it made sense that things were a little colourful in his line of work. Then again, if he couldn’t talk about it, that was fair enough too. Who knew what kind of a shady character she truly was, and who she could pass the information onto. The thought made her smirk a little. Yeah, right.
Posted by Verdigris on Nov 21, 2010 3:03:25 GMT -6
Beta Mutant
512
0
May 15, 2013 18:46:44 GMT -6
The tiredness in his eyes made her heart experience something she was sure was referred to in common terms as ‘melting’. Then again, it may have just been that feeling again, wriggling its way into everything. His question surprised her, but she kept her face emotionless while she pondered all the depth behind it.
He hadn’t suddenly decided to become vegan and was regretting every steak he’d ever eaten was he?
She dismissed the idea as silly and laced her fingers together, rested her chin on the flatness they made and observed Andrew. His sincerity startled her, and she thought on her answer carefully. To say the wrong thing now could lead to drastic consequences, and although she wasn’t afraid of the young man, something like a chill touched her spine as she considered it.
“A killer from the past, yes, someone who has done the deed and so be it. Hunter, the mutant I spoke of, killed hundreds, lived off them, but he changed, and no longer takes lives for his own sustenance. A killer from the future, perhaps not, someone planning the murder of another, or others, in cold blood, its different.”
She pondered all the different kinds of killers: the accidental, car crashes and mutational out bursts; the defensive, a frightened punch to an all-too-soft temple; and the repeated, premeditated blood lust. She frowned. He seemed like he was hanging, poised, waiting for her answer. He cared, what she thought.
“It would depend on the type, but probably, yes. Sometimes things happen, for a reason maybe, maybe not. My brother’s friend was killed, by a mutant, and the hate which came from that, it was just too much. I think that the whole ‘hate the act, not the person’ thing is right. Not that mass murderers and serial killers shouldn’t be arrested, but that sometimes, things just happen.”
Realising she was rambling, confusing the matter and the tired young man even further with her muddled explanations, she took a deep breath, and a leap of faith.
“Yes. I would.”
She was taking a risk, and yet the meaning behind his question, the details unknown, suggested at one thing. This killer, was him.
“Whatever happened. It doesn’t change you being my friend, and I’m here for you.”
Posted by Verdigris on Nov 21, 2010 1:15:44 GMT -6
Beta Mutant
512
0
May 15, 2013 18:46:44 GMT -6
He wasn’t alright, and it was possible to say that it was bad dreams which were disrupting his sleep. Everything from his body language to the long pauses in between her questions and his answers suggested that he didn’t want to talk about it. Still, it felt right to ask.
“You wanna talk about it?”
Who knew, maybe he would unleash a vent of epic proportions simply because of the offer of someone to listen. Guessing from his distracted body language, probably not. She tried to remember what Hunter had said that had made her feel better about her own dreams. Calmer, more in control. Less likely to wake in the middle of the night gasping, cursing the power of the subconscious mind.
She longed for the strange salty sweetness of the monk butter-tea to offer Andrew. In absence of the tea (and all other beverages, hot or cold) she searched for his words in her mind. While overriding a mind reader was one thing, overriding the mind itself might be a totally different thing altogether. She almost envied Hunter and his four hundred or so years of experience, he would know what words to offer to the young man. Of course the road he had travelled to get there was one she didn’t envy at all, so perhaps it was better this way.
“There’s a way this mutant once taught me, to clear out your mind, would you like to try?”
She patted the bed beside her, totally oblivious to all the possible ulterior motives behind the gesture, Andrew was gay, he wouldn’t take it that way. It might take a lot, to work through whatever it was that made Andrew pace to achieve that moment of blissful nothingness, but judging from the look in his eyes, he mightn’t need much more than that to get himself to sleep. She pursed her lips and tried to think of what it was that did it for her.
Posted by Verdigris on Nov 20, 2010 6:40:40 GMT -6
Beta Mutant
512
0
May 15, 2013 18:46:44 GMT -6
Whatever it was that Andrew had chased down the detective about, it looked serious, from what she could tell from the glances she threw that direction in between throwing the ball for Jack and waiting for him to retrieve it. The body language spoke volumes far greater than the words lost in the breeze and the sounds of the park, children laughing, trees rustling, dogs barking at each other, the usual.
Fetch.
The change in body language happened while she was looking at Jack, when she glanced back Andrew was turning away from her, and Jorge’s hands were hanging by his sides. Whatever tension filled issue had needed sorting, hopefully now it was over. She thought she caught her name, but it might have been a trick of the wind, or a cry from across the park, carried by a fickle breeze.
Fetch.
His return was a little stiff, but more of an awkward trying to avoid an embarrassing topic, than anything to seriously worry about. The fact that he was an actor once again had slipped her mind. She smiled back at him and accepted the slobbery ball to toss again for Jack.
“Not a problem. He really wasn’t intruding or anything.”
She hesitated on asking him if he was alright, but decided against it. It could have been guy stuff. It could have been gay-guy stuff. If it was anything that she needed to know, or could in anyway be a help with, he was sure to let her know. They were friends, right?
Posted by Verdigris on Nov 20, 2010 6:14:37 GMT -6
Beta Mutant
512
0
May 15, 2013 18:46:44 GMT -6
In the pause between her knock and any answer fears of a different kind began to plague her. What if Andrew was entertaining and she had disrupted them with her arrival? The thought was quickly dismissed, surely he wouldn’t do… well do that, with Jack there. Her fears returned to ones for Jack’s wellbeing and she frowned at the door. Why was it taking him so long to answer her, what was so wrong that she needed to be shielded from it?
As the lock clicked back and permission for her entry was given, her hand was already on the handle, her heart fluttering a little from the nerves she had worked herself up into. The movement between hallway and room was seamless, and the door slid shut behind her. The pacing friend gained merely a glance before her eyes rested on her baby.
Who was sleeping peacefully, with an occasional twitch as he chased a rabbit in his dreams.
Her eyes turned back to Andrew, who’s pacing seemed to be occupying most of his attention, they flicked over his attire (or lack thereof) and noted the sleeping arrangement. Well, she was in her Pj’s too. Perhaps the feeling had woken him/kept him from sleep, and encouraged him to pace, where she had showered and ate. Truthfully pacing seemed a little healthier, and yet he didn’t look at peace with his decision to pace.
His bare chest almost distracted her, but she resolutely reminded herself about his orientation, and their status as ‘just friends’. That chest was reserved for people of a decidedly more male nature to drool over and the such like-
He turned in his pace and walked away from her, and her eyes rested on the scar on his back. A broken promise’s heavy toll. She breathed in sharply, it looked like it had hurt, a lot, and frowned at it. Scars didn’t particularly bother her, nor blood nor other things which usually had girls squealing and scrambling atop chairs, but this one distracted her in that it was a symbol, a price.
The continued pacing made her a little concerned. If nothing was wrong with Jack, could it have been that the feeling had brought her here to look out for her friend? How to broach a subject that one knew nothing about…
“I thought Jack might have been sick, I couldn’t sleep… Are you alright?”
Andrew didn’t seem like an insomniac, nor did she recall anything about his mutation affecting his sleep patterns. Perhaps it was something else on his mind. Plopping onto the edge of the bed unceremoniously she drew her feet up under her and watched as he moved, back and forth, back and forth. He was her friend, and now she was a little worried about him. Perhaps he was suffering from the dreaded ‘dreaming’. She had booted her dreams after her visit to Hunter, and she tried to recall where she had left his pamphlet. Perhaps Andrew could benefit from a little balance in his life too.
Posted by Verdigris on Nov 20, 2010 1:08:22 GMT -6
Beta Mutant
512
0
May 15, 2013 18:46:44 GMT -6
The feeling wasn’t resolved by standing at the door, but it had settled into a dull nagging. Whatever unknown force that had brought her here, had brought her here. She frowned and considered knocking, would she disrupt any potentially delicate task? Distract someone from a lifesaving moment? Fear held her back, in silence at the door, until the bed creaked, and there was the unmistakeable sound of someone shuffle-pacing around the room.
Whatever was happening to Jack, her knocking now wouldn’t disrupt it. She was certain, now, that it was Jack who needed her, and that the feeling was what was known as a ‘mother’s instinct’. Her baby needed her, and so she had come. Sure, it had taken her a while to figure out what the instinctual feeling was, but she got there eventually. Now all she could do was hope she wasn’t too late.
A million reasons, diagnoses, fears, tumbled through her as she raised her hand and knocked on the door. What if she had missed something vital in the myriad of pamphlets the shelter woman had given them. What if some well-meaning mansionite had given him cheese, or some other milk product, and even now he was in the midst of a terrible allergic reaction. What if, what if, what if. She couldn’t know anything for sure until she saw her little furry captain, and she knocked again on the door.
“Hello, Andy? Its Verdy, can I come in?”
No matter how bad it was, Dad wouldn’t hide it from Mum, right?
Posted by Verdigris on Nov 20, 2010 0:46:53 GMT -6
Beta Mutant
512
0
May 15, 2013 18:46:44 GMT -6
So it was settled. She was going to learn how to box. Besides the fact she had no idea where to get a pair of boxing gloves she suspected she might need a towel and a water bottle too, maybe a change of clothes. She grinned and made a mental note to avoid Andrew’s stomach if she really wanted to make an impact, no pun intended.
Jorge’s facial expression was lost on Verdy, she didn’t catch sight of it before it flitted away and was replaced with the smirk and self dismissal. She was too busy blushing to try and stop him, to tell him that he was more than welcome to stay and that their “non-date” really was a non-date. His final parting shot after his request that Andrew call him really threw her.
Andrew was gay?
Well, that explained all the mixed signals and the continued ‘just friends’ status. She sat, a little stunned and merely nodded as he excused himself and went after the older man. Jack, sensing her discomfort (or perhaps just bored now his potential friend was leaving) laid his head in her lap and rolled his eyes at the tennis ball sitting on the bench. Smiling she picked it up and threw it off to the side for him to chase after and bring back.
The revelation didn’t upset her in its contents, more so the disappointment of losing something without ever having it. A potential loss. The ball made its way back and forth, matching her thoughts, and after a while she decided she didn’t mind. It was a shame, of course, but to think that was selfish. She wanted what was best for her friend. What would make him happy.
Posted by Verdigris on Nov 19, 2010 6:21:28 GMT -6
Beta Mutant
512
0
May 15, 2013 18:46:44 GMT -6
Verdy was having a feeling.
Not a particularly bad feeling, just a strange one, like she was slightly out of sync with the world. She tried to shake it for a while, had a shower, flicked through a book, even unpacked and folded all the clothes in her drawer. The feeling lingered. Glancing at the clock she decided it wasn’t too late for a stroll and slipped into something a little warmer, shoes instead of bare toes, and her hand-along jacket over her long black pyjama shirt.
Perhaps she was hungry. With that possibility as an objective she left the room with nothing more than the key in her hand. She didn’t need anything else. She would just duck on down to the kitchen and have a glass of milk, perhaps a cookie, then go back to bed, to see if that shook the niggling feeling.
As the door shut her eyes rested for a moment on the picture of Andrew, Jack and herself, on their first day together, the marker for the door for Andrew to come pounding on should anything happen to their pirate pup. With a gentle smile at the true happiness in the glossy print she turned and headed towards the kitchen, tracksuit pants scuffing along the way only tracksuit pants do. It wasn’t so cold in the hall as she expected, so she wandered a little slower. There was no rush, and perhaps in the time it took her to arrive she could place the odd feeling or figure out what it meant.
After her two glasses of milk (one chocolate, one ordinary calcium-flavoured) and a choc-chip cookie she dawdled back up the hall, still trying to figure out what was off. She was certain she hadn’t left the hair straightener on (that was a fact, especially since they didn’t have a hair straightener) and all her online-class work was up to date, so no looming incomplete assessment was draining her. Furrowing her forehead she tried to put a finger on what it was that was distracting her so badly.
Pausing in front of her door for a moment she frowned at the picture, perhaps there was something wrong with Jack. Maybe he was sick and Andrew had thought it was too late to call her and was trying to get him through it by himself. Perhaps even now he was wishing she was there to help him.
Her feet carried her onwards down the hall to the door with a different picture of the same people and pooch on it. Andrew’s room. There was no real reason for her coming here, just a feeling. She paused outside the door, was it too late to knock? Her ears strained for any whining or other sounds of doggy-distress. Rude as it might be to wake Andrew, the feeling was stronger here, and now mingled with a tinge of dread. What was behind the door that made her feel so strange? As she was no form of empath (at least as far as she was aware, that seemed to have no link to her mutation) she simply had to put it down to intuition.
