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.
Mat laughed at Raven's answer. Not an insulting laugh, but one of genuine amusement. There was no embarrassment in her voice as she told him why she was living here. Only fact. A fact, that resonated well with Mat. She knew the score. She was, clearly, a survivor. A citizen of the wider world. And, like Mat, she seemed not to be ashamed of it.
>>> “What brings you to the mansion?”
Mat gave a smirk. “The free housing and food.”
He watched, with interest, the woman's reaction to the new bird sculpture. She clapped her hands and Mat found himself smiling at her enthusiasm. Then she did something unexpected. She cawed at the stone bird. Mat held back an amused laugh, in case she was offended. That was not something he had been anticipating.
He commanded the stone bird to tilt its head to the side, much like he saw Raven herself do, not moments before. It walked over towards the woman, and gave a flap of it's wings. Pity it was made of stone, it might have been fun to have a flying sculpture.
“You can talk to birds?” Mat asked, referencing Raven's unique vocal ability. If she lived here, then it stood to reason that she was a mutant. And with a name like Raven, and the ability to caw like a bird, it stood to reason that her powers were avian-related.
>>> "Well, whatever you know, it is not going to happen here."
There it was. What Mat had expected. That pride, that hubris, that arrogance. The feeling that you were untouchable, all because you were grouped with other people who could perform amazing feats. That, because you had powers that were superior to the things regular humans could do, there was no way that the non-powered could ever harm you or the ones you loved. That was how living in the commune had felt. That's how it seemed this Gemma woman felt. That they were all safe here, and that she had all the answers.
It made him sick, the way she dismissed him and what he said.
“Well, isn't that a relief,” he muttered bitterly and sarcastically under his breath.
>>> "His name is Mat and his mutation lets him make golems. I don't know much more than that Gemma. He didn't really tell me any specifics last night.”
Another voice joined the conversation. Not only that, it had the cheek to ruin the modicum of entertainment that may have sprung forth from Mat's petty lies. Mat swung around and came face to face with some guy he didn't recognise. Someone, who obviously felt like they deserved some say in this discussion. Some pretty boy.
Mat decided that he wasn't to be liked.
>>> “I brought him here after he managed to bring a mob down on our heads. I figured it was better to bring him here where he'd be safe than to dump him off somewhere else."
This guy? He was the one that brought Mat to the mansion? Mat stared at him a while, brows furrowed in concentration. “Mate, sorry to interrupt, but...who the f**k are you?”
Did he say something about a mob?
He couldn't remember a thing about this guy. All Mat knew was that he hated the smug look on this guy's face.
>>> "You brought him here? Fair enough. But next time please dump him in one of the guest rooms. A few more minutes, and the kids would have been drawing all over his face."
Now, they were speaking as though he wasn't actually sitting there, as if he were the family dog or something. Before, he had been annoyed. Now, he was actually getting angry. Gemma stood and glared every so often, while the new addition pottered around, poured himself a drink, and leant against the counter. Mat eyed him, making no effort to hide his current anger.
These two wanted to condemn him for his actions, whatever they may have been? Fine. For things these two didn't know about, or understand? That was fine too. Their mind's had been made up already. They may have thought that Mat owed them answers, that he owed them something for his waking up here.
Mat knew better. Mat owed nothing.
Reaching across the counter, Mat grabbed the newcomer's glass of orange juice. Taking a swig, Mat burped loudly, spat into the remaining juice and sat the glass back by the man's hand. A tiny smile finally began to tug at Mat's lips, his own little bit of spite cheering him up.
Small victories.
>>> “Either of you care to elaborate on the mob story?...”
“Y'know, lady, in case you haven't figured it out yet, I can't remember a f***in' thing about last night. So how 'bout you stop asking me what happened and ask pretty boy over there?”
Dance, dance, dance, little minions. Dance, dance, dance.
>>> "Oh yes... You don't appreciate your freedom until the cold winter months take it away from you... The free food is nice though."
Mat laughed, somewhat at the woman's curious head tilt, and nodded in agreement. This woman nailed it right on the head. In the summer, when the streets are ripe for wandering, it was easy to take such open freedom for granted. Winter stripped that luxury away, and forced you to cling on to whatever you could. Not having to worry about eating was also a large bonus. “I know exactly what you mean.”
The woman extended a hand, which Mat clasped in his own, and introduced herself as Raven. Mat grinned, a long forgotten memory popping into his head. Of school, and of something he once loved.
““Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken! Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!” Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.””
His sculptures emphasised the poem with interpretive dance.
In his late primary school years, his teacher had called in sick. So as a substitute for poetry and writing, it turned out the replacement was actually the Physical Education teacher. Apparently, he had a love for poetry. And he had a love for Poe. And so Mat, eleven or twelve, heard The Raven for the first time, he found a beauty in the rhythms, the cadences. The subject matter, the pacing, he loved it all. And he memorised the whole poem as best he could. His favourite poem.
Turned out, he still remembered bits.
“So,” he asked, “what brings you to the mansion?” Pulling yet another plate from his backpack, this one black marble, Mat hit it and placed it on the ground. A black raven sprouted from the surface. At least Mat thought it was a raven. It may have been a crow.
That light weight. The soft touch of her glove. Mat felt Andrea's hand in his as they walked along, realising he hadn't released it yet. Neither had she. He wondered, not for the first time, where this was headed. Where the two of them were bound. Mat felt confident enough to say that he could now call Andrea a friend. With what they had been through so far, in their short time together, Mat could easily consider her someone he felt close to, someone he could connect with. They had a good chemistry, a good vibe. Mat was not one to shy away from people, unless they had a bad vibe. He had no worries making new friends. It was one of the reasons he had made it so long out here on the streets.
Hand in hand, they walked, and Andrea told Mat about the restaurant and how she found it. The joy in her voice brought a smile to Mat's face. She mentions home, and Mat had to wonder about where Andrea was from. He figured her accent was European, but Greek, Italian, Spanish, he couldn't tell. Maybe it was some other random place. He mused on the subject while they paused at a cross walk, a goofy smile on his face. The light changed, and Mat felt Andrea grip his hand tighter. He smiled down at her, and returned the gesture.
What's in a hand holding?
Again, Mat wondered what it meant.
>>> “Mat. Where are you from?”
He gave a grin. “Australia. I grew up in country Victoria, but spent the last few years in Melbourne. Then when that didn't work out I travelled 'round the coast, 'til I got to W.A. Found a mutant who could make long distance portals, convinced him to make me one, and came here to New York. That was a few months ago, now.”
Snow began to fall from the clouds as the hurried along the street. Mat's head swivelled from side to side, entranced by the serene beauty. As much as he hated snow, seeing it drift from the sky was still fascinating.
“We never get this in Melbourne.”
Mat spotted the sign in the distance, and began rushing forward, a grin on his face. With a cheeky grin over his shoulder he released Andrea's hand, as much as it pained him to do so, and began skipping towards the restaurant. Mat laughed to himself as he bounded away. As someone who was himself greatly amused by the art of skipping, Mat knew that the most efficient and entertaining method was to spring as high as possible. Like a gazelle.
With a laugh thrown back towards Andrea, Mat waited by the door for her to catch up. As she approached, he opened the door and held it for the lady, a sly grin on face.
Mat couldn't help but laugh as Andrea did a wiggle dance, claiming her foot was asleep. She was struggling to get her coat on, her snakes getting in her way. It was all very amusing to see her in her predicament. She blushed, as predicted, then put a hand out to him. He took it as he stood, smiling once more. He gave her hand a small squeeze, to show her that he wasn't afraid of her power.
>>> "We shall eat at Kellari... Have you ever been there?"
“Never even heard of it,” he grinned.
>>> "It is a lovely place, and they are kind to those like myself...like you and I... I mean...
“Sounds like great place,” Mat said, wholly meaning every word.
It is only a few blocks from here, and the food is quite goo- Oh my gosh! We left your stone friends in the alley!!"
She froze in place, and turned back, a worried look on her face. Mat chuckled and tugged on her hand to lead her on. “I broke my connection to the ages ago. They're art now. And who knows, maybe they'll scare off a few troublemakers.” He gave Andrea a reassuring smile. “They'll be fine.”
As they walked, Mat thought about where they were going. A restaurant that was tolerant of mutants. That was always a plus. So far, during his time in the city, Mat had seen more of the negative aspects of mutant culture, rather than the good ones.
“So, how did you find out about this place?” he asked. Moving around so much, Mat never really took the time to truly understand the cities he lived in. He knew how to make his way around, and where certain things were, but he lacked that relationship with the city that long term citizens possessed.
Mat didn't like the woman's tone. It held all of her displeasure, her unhappiness in his general being here. It wasn't like it was his fault he got drunk and somehow ended up in some strange mutant mansion school. If you can't remember it, it never happened, right?
The room went quiet and filled with tension. At this point, Mat wanted to die. A lecture was the last thing he wanted at this moment, but he felt it was soon coming. It was bad enough his body was rejecting itself.
>>> "So, here are my questions...Your name, your mutation, and in general, what you are doing when you are not out waking up in strange houses."
She said it all friendly like, but Mat knew better. He had the infinite wisdom of a being a hung over, belligerent drunk. It was a trap, to lure him into the lurking lecture. He debated lying to her, creating a false identity. Still, the rebellious part of him wanted to tell her everything. Every sordid detail, to let her soak it in.
“Mat. I can magically walk through doors when no-one's watching. And other than crashing strange houses, I sleep in abandoned places and sell thing on the street.”
He settled for a mix batch of truth and lies.
He slumped forward on the counter again, and banged his hand on the surface as though in pain, which wasn't too hard to fake. Figured it would be best to get a diversion ready, just in case. Except he couldn't feel the connection, couldn't feel part of himself enter the stone. Luckily, with his face buried in the counter-top, Gemma coudn't see his puzzled expression.
“You know,” he mumbled, “I resent getting the blame for all this. I didn't ask to come here. I've seen what happens when you get too many mutants living together. Trust me, it's not pretty.”
Okay, he hadn't meant to say that. He was still half drunk, fully hung over, and this woman was getting on his case.
>>> "I did not mean to... to do that. I am sorry.."
Mat watched as Andrea sat there, stroking the glass flower. The corners of his lips tugged threateningly upwards, but he kept his face emotionless, dead pan. She looked so cute when she was guilty.
>>> “I hope you are not cross with me.”
A cold gust of wind blew, and Mat noticed Andrea's slender bare arms. Realising his head was resting on something soft, Mat sat up and noticed the rolled up red raincoat. He picked it up and sat it in his lap.
>>> "Will you let me make it up to you? Before that whole mess on the bus, I had been on my way to get something to eat. Would you come with me?"
His resolved stayed strong, and Mat still didn't crack his expression. Now that she mentioned it, this whole situation had mainly come around because of her. Had it been some other, more ill-tempered person Mat may have been annoyed. But Andrea, well, Andrea was just too charming to be mad at.
>>> “Please?”
Poor thing. She sounded so guilty and desperate.
Finally Mat couldn't hold it in. He laughed and smiled at her, and offered her the raincoat back. “Of course I'm not mad. Your power, it's amazing.” To be able to sleep instantly, avoiding all fear and hassle. A rare and outstanding gift. “And of course, I'd love to go get something to eat with you.”
He eyed Andrea up and down, admiring her beauty once more. He had found himself doing that a lot since he had met her. He wasn't sure what it was, her attractiveness, her fascinatingly obvious mutation, her meek, bashful and mild nature. The fact that she seemed to be another refugee stranded in a strange city. Something about her made Mat want to know more, made him want to stay close.
Maybe it was because, ever since he had met her, he had seen a sadness surround her. Because when he had seen those glittering eyes, he had seen her pain and loneliness for the briefest of moments.
He tried to think of something charming, something witty to say, to make her blush and giggle again. His mind, however, had abandoned him for the moment. Instead, he settled for a boyish grin and prayed that his Aussie charm wouldn't fail him.
He trudged along after her, dead man walking. Every step was nauseating agony, threatening to remove his tender grasp on gravity. What little blood that seemed to be occupying his head seemed to be pounding away at his skull, eroding it like waves on a cliff-face. Soon, they made their way into a kitchen.
>>> "We have locked doors and other security measures...Somebody must have let you in. I'm going to need to talk to them about allowing drunk strangers into the school."
They entered the kitchen and Mat immediately placed himself on a tall stool, not willing to tempt fate any further. Gemma set about the room, making some vile looking brew. She must have noticed Mat's greening stare, smirked at him, and told him it would be best not to watch. When she was finished, she sat a glass of swampy, murky green muck in front of him. He stared at it in hypnotic revulsion, unable to take his eyes away. Wearily lifting the glass, Gemma advised him to drink it, and not breathe it in. Lifting the glass to his face, a wiff of the beverage assaulted his nostrils. His stomach gave one violent warning lurch, and Mat swiftly stood, placed his drink down and ran to the nearest sink.
And promptly emptied the mostly liquid contents of his stomach.
His knees buckled and Mat slumped to the ground, groaning and wiping the drool from his mouth. His eyes watered and he gasped for breath. Slowly regaining his strength, Mat pulled himself up and made his way back to the stool. Taking a deep breath, he wrinkled his nose, and drank the concoction as fast as possible. He felt it begin to settle in his stomach, slowly calming it down. He let out a belch and slumped forward onto the bench.
>>> "So, you happen to be a mutant too, or is it just an accident that you ended up here?"
Mat slowly lifted his head to look at the woman. “I am, but as far as I'm aware my being here is pure coinky dink. I'd never even heard of the place until I woke up here a few minutes ago.” She handed him a packet of ice and he thanked her as he took it and placed it on his face. The numbing cold was soothing against the throbbing pain in his face.
“So what, you guys just take in mutant kiddies from all over the place? Keep 'em safe? Teach them how to be good little mutants?”
Mat smiled as the woman laughed at his performance. It was the exact ego boost one could never get sick of. If Mat could manage to evoke such reactions in a large audience, then perhaps this performance idea wasn't such a bad one. It would be an amusing and exciting way to bring in some money.
>>> You are plainly amazing.'
Mat's grin widened at the compliment. Again, it was always nice to be complimented by strangers. This girl, with her colourful clothing and wonderful comments seemed to be an interesting acquaintance, one that Mat was more than willing to keep entertained. She had an interesting vibe, a gypsy, hippyish quality. She looked like someone he wanted to get to know. Her fascinating golden eyes may have had a small part to play in that.
“Thanks.”
He racked his mind, trying to think of the next routine of his performance. He let them run around a while, while he thought of an idea. Deciding he should plan his performances out a little more in the future, Mat figured he should distract the woman's attention.
“Cold out, isn't it?” A gust of cold wind blew up, as if to emphasis his point. “As nice as it is though, I find the Mansion can get a little confining at time, dontcha think?.” The wide open streets, how he yearned for them at times.
At mention of the cold, an idea coming to mind. He had the glass figures hug themselves, little glass arms wrapping around glass bodies. Exaggerating their shivering, Mat had them trudge along as if caught in a blizzard. Freezing and cold, and exhausted. The red he had collapse to the ground, unable to go on any further. The blue one, noticing it's fallen comrade, doubled back and hoisted the red to it's feet. Together, they struggled onwards.
He looked up at the woman, a welcoming smile on his face. “I'm Mat.”
How many years had it been? Four? Five? How many years since he could lay his head down and close his eyes without the fearful doubt tugging away in his chest. How many years since he had been able to sleep, without nightmares, without the fear of never waking up again?
Of dying peacefully in his sleep.
His eyes began to creak open, light spilling down in spears, a green canopy overhead. A face swam in Mat's vision, green and mottled, eyes hidden behind dark glasses. Concerned. He gave a weak smile, still drowsy from his unexpected slumber.
“Mornin' sunshine,” he croaked.
His body felt strangely rested, relaxed, aside from some tender spots. Probably from where he fell. Those gorgeous orange orbs, they were amazing. Was this another of her mutations? She had put him out cold, deep sleep in a glance. Those beautiful eyes. They put him to sleep.
They could put him to sleep...
Mat saw the stone flower resting by Andrea, chipped and damaged by the drop. He reached out a stone damaged hand and grasped the flower, inspecting the damage. With a smile, he knocked his knuckles against it, conjuring the memory of it's detail, of it's beauty. Flower in mind, the duplication process started. Where the stone had chipped away, new stone grew back in place. Soon, Mat was holding a freshly repaired flower.
“Look at that, your gift was so amazing it knocked me out cold,” he joked with a chuckle.
He let himself be dragged through the streets by Andrea, a wide grin on his face. With the thrill of the impending surprise, the fact he was getting along very well with this fascinating girl, Mat found himself letting go a giggle every time they bumped into a passing pedestrian. Nostalgia washed over him, reminding him of when he was a teenager in high school, when his cares were no more than doing well in classes, hanging out with mates and chasing girls, the giddy thrill of hearts discovering new emotions. An easier time, though it hadn't necessarily seemed so at the time. It had been a long time since he had felt this carefree.
Andrea. Her sweet innocence had an effect on him, helped wash away his problems.
She brought him to a complex of some kind, filled with various apartments and units. She led him to the side of a building and into a small garden of some kind. She threw Mat a smile, which was heartily reciprocated. Dropping his hand, Andrea began to potter around the garden, a wistful look on her face. She inspected various flowers, with a wrinkle of her nose. It was fascinating watching her, the gentle way she handled and inspected the various flora. It was the same way he looked at his art. She seemed to be searching for something, and Mat found himself holding his breath in anticipation. From the far side of the garden she turned to face him and grinned. She excused herself as she brushed past him and made her way to a pot. She blocked his sight of what she had seen, but Mat saw her work on whatever it was, then remove her gloves and then go still like she was holding something.
>>> “Are you ready? She peeked back over her shoulder before she stood and made her way back to Mat. She held out a hand. Framed with tiny green fingers was a grey stone flower, perfectly preserved. Andrea gave a sheepish grin.
>>> For you.”
Mat reached out and carefully lifted the flower, allowing his fingers to accidentally drop down and linger on Andrea's for a brief moment. He felt a sharp burning sensation in his hands, and yanked them back by reflex. Looking down, he saw that the skin on the edge of his fingers that had made contact with her hands was grey. Poking at it, it felt like stone. He glanced back to the flower, and down to the ground by the pot. Picked leaves were strewn across the ground. He gave a grin, guessing at how she had created her piece. He rubbed once more at the stone flesh, then held the flower up, inspecting it's perfectly elegant composition.
It was beautiful. Superb.
“This is amazing.” Mat's lips curved into a wide grin, and he turned to face Andrea. He began to lean in slowly, peering at her dark sunglasses. He wondered what colour her eyes were, why she hid them. He bet she had gorgeous eyes. Without warning, one of Andrea's snakes speared forth from her hair, and into Andrea's face. Mat made to grab...something. But he knew there was nothing he could do. The snake clutched onto Andrea's glasses and pulled back, snatching the sunnies away.
Curiosity getting the better of him, Mat leaned closer to steal a glance from the girl, and to see what her eyes looked like. Her eyes turned and met his.
They glistened and burned like orange sapphires.
Amazing.
The world went black and a stone flower fell to the concrete ground below, flying chips of stone flaking off.
>>> "You are in the Mansion, better known as Xavier's Sister School for Gifted Youngsters...it is a school for mutants, as you probably already noticed."
A school? He had gotten wasted...and ended up...in a school? A school for mutants?
Seriously?
Did she say this place was a mansion?
The woman sat on the edge of the couch, swimming in his upside down vision. She had a look about her. No nonsense. Someone who wasn't willing to let minor transgressions, like inebriated private school-crashing from a passing vagrant, go. That kind of person.
Like a mum.
>>> “So, I don't suppose you remember how you got in.”
Mat scratched his head and ran his hand gingerly over his tender face. He wasn't sure how bad it looked, but it felt like hell. Wouldn't surprise him if he had a broken nose. A pained wince escaped his lips as he prodded a little too hard. “Unless I had a burning desire to become a school boy again and somehow re-enrolled... I dare say I wandered in from the neighbourhood somehow. Which ever neighbourhood this is.” A wave of nausea passed over him, and Mat gave a sickly groan. “You guys lock your doors at night?,” he asked sarcastically. A hacking cough racked his body. “I have no idea how I got in, lady.”
>>> "That's a pity. Anyhow. My name is Gemma Taylor, and I am the guidance counselor here."
Mat eyed her suspiciously for a moment, squinting against the light of the room. Something about hearing that she was a guidance counsellor brought up all kinds of suspicions. Was she going to start telling how he should be living his life? How his current lifestyle was not how sensible human beings should live?
>>> "Let's go to the kitchen, I'll get you something to eat and drink, and hopefully make you feel better. I'd have to let you throw up on the couch."
She held out a hand to help Mat up. He glanced up at it with one eye before pushing himself upright, ever so slowly. Not that he was snubbing her. It's just that any unexpected movement was likely to cause her fears to come true. And the couch didn't deserve that. No part of him was being spiteful, being obstinate. He wasn't putting up the defensive front of someone who had been sprung red-handed. No way.
Maybe a little obstinate...
Slowly, he rose to his feet. The world was unsteady under his feet. He wrestled with his balance, until finally he felt he was unlikely to collapse in a heap. Walking would be a whole different challenge.
Mat focused on the movements of his sculpture, making sure that it moved in a realistic manner. His precision with controlling his sculptures was good, had been since he had spent every waking hour making sure of it. But since coming to America, his control had gotten sloppy. With winter's arrival, his focus had gone back into finding decent shelter, and looking to make enough money to keep himself fed. Not that he needed to be too well fed. Since living on the streets, his body had adapted to eating only whenever possible, and not in too large of amounts.
Now that he had shelter and food taken care of for him, he had the time to restrengthen and retrain his his mutation control.
It had occurred to Mat, somewhere along the line, that he could possibly use his sculptures to make money in ways other than selling them as art. Having his sculptures dance was something he usually did for his own amusement, and the occasional amusement of others. The idea he had was that maybe, just maybe, he could use his sculptures to perform for an audience. And in order to do that effectively, he needed to ensure that his golems moved like real flesh-and-blood people.
Footsteps caught his attention.
Mat looked up, only to see a woman standing a short distance away from him. Her attention seemed wholly taken, not by him, but by his glass sculpture. He gave a smile, both at the interest this woman was taking in his art, as well as at the woman in general. She wore strangely colourful clothing, and had long jet black hair. Her arrival was serendipitous. Now, he had an audience to test his new performance art on.
And who was Mat to say no to a beautiful onlooker?
Carefully rummaging around his backpack, Mat gently pulled another glass plate free. This time, it was a plate of red stained glass. Gently knocking against the cold surface, he sat the plate on the snowy ground and began a mental count. This was all going to be improvisational, but Mat figured that all great performances were in some regards.
He was never one for being locked into a set idea.
A small arm sprouted from the glass, and waved around, as though looking for help. Mat commanded the blue sculpture to make it's way over to the red plate, and lean down as though studying the hand with curiosity. Mat realised that he would need to work on body language and gestures in order to convey emotion through the golems. Shifting facial expressions were out of the question if he was to focus on movement as well. He wasn't even sure that he could control facial expressions on his creations.
The blue person stood, reached out a hand, and grabbed hold of the flailing red hand. It pulled upwards, as though helping someone up off the ground, and an identical sculpture, this one red glass, stood up from the plate, materialising out of nothing.
Hand in hand, Mat commanded the two sculptures to embrace, like two long lost friends. Maybe two lovers. Mat's smile grew wider. This was something he could find himself enjoying. If Derrick the Bass Man could use his mutation as part of a performance, and have humans and mutants alike enjoy it, why couldn't Mat do the same with his powers?
>>> "Shoo...There is nothing to see here. Go play somewhere else."
Mat glanced over to the doorway, towards the strange voice. A woman's voice. It wasn't a voice he recognised, so chances were he hadn't crashed in one of his usual haunts. A quick look around at the place, strongly confirmed that notion. This place was much too nice for him. He heard the pattering of little footsteps, and assumed that the children had run off to do whatever this voice had commanded.
Some kind of matriarch, perhaps?
>>> “What do we have here...”
A shadow fell over Mat's prone form, to which he threw a glance upwards. A woman was looking down on him. An upside-down woman, with very dark skin and an expression that didn't make him feel very welcome. Wherever he was.
>>> “I do hope you did not leave any booze lying around.”
Mat craned his neck up and looked around his immediate area. Despite the prevalent smell of booze, Mat couldn't see any bottles or cans lying around, which told his groggy mind that he may have done his drinking off-site. Wherever that was. The action made his head throb and his gut churn, so he slumped his head back down.
“If I did, you'd probably have a better idea of where it is than I do right now,” he croaked. Mat couldn't even recall why he had been drinking. Apart from the drinks he had had at Mute's warehouse, Mat hadn't gotten drunk in months. If he had to hazard a guess, it was probably in order to help him sleep. It seemed the only reason he would have. He doubted it was to celebrate, and he didn't have any friends to get drunk with socially like he used to.
Not like he had much reason to celebrate these days.
