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.
The Queen needed to test a new colors in her newest acquisition. It was not a mere wish or a whim. She really needed to add that particular color to her brand new Parisian dress. It was a beautiful shade of purple, strong and vibrant. Exactly what she needed. And she could save it for her collection at the same time. After all, she knew how to duplicate colors. This color in particular, the vibrant mix of blue and red, was painted in a graffiti on the mutant mansion. She had seen it the last time she was there, during the paintball game, and immediately fell in love with the violet hue. The graffiti itself was an indescribable drawing, probably a name. But it was impossible to read twisted and altered letters. It had no artistic value than any of her vandalism works.
To enter the mansion was easier than she imagined. She remembered the impenetrable walls around the whole place, strong and high walls. Also the automatic gates, too strong to bring them down and too high to climb. She even let her imagination to fill the gaps. Providing her with more challenges. Hidden traps around the perimeter, security cameras everywhere, an advanced alarm system. All told her that it would be harder, but for her fortune, she had not enjoyed the hospitality of the residents. An anonymous voice answered over the communicator, and at the mention of a new discovered mutation and the promise of possibly wanting to study there, the boy opened the gates without any other questions. She jumped immediately inside, and ran away before someone went to the gate to pick up her for the promised tour around the mansion.
As the day was so beautiful, with bright sunshine and a cloudless sky, so many students were in the vicinity of the mansion. Protected by the walls, but enjoying the nature enclosed there. Running around, reading a book or just chatting with friends. So many people gave her the perfect cover, no one would question because no one knew she was a stranger. Only Sam knew her, but she suspected she would not find him there. Surely he was in the library. She get lost several times before finally finding the basketball court, despite its size it was difficult to find it since her vision was constantly interrupted by trees, and the mansion itself. The basketball court was almost empty, just two mutants were playing at one of the hoop, while the other was empty. The weird calligraphy was painted in the nearest wall to the court.
The girl pressed her fingernail against the brick wall firmly, exactly where that tone of purple was locked. Inside a letter that appeared to be a cross. Or a T. The handwriting was really absurd. Impossible to read. Could it be a mutant code? She concentrate her thoughts in one word, and to help keep the concentration she pronounce the name in a monotonous chant. Almost a whisper. "Purple." Again and again the word left her lips, almost forming a single infinite word "Purplepurplepurple." Soon, the color contained in that strange giant letter answered her prayers and slipped hastily into her nail. Leaving a dead gray where once there had been a living purple. Her nail wore triumphantly the stolen color, as if it were a cape. At the same time, her beautiful eyes were banned to observe that shade of purple. Now before her gaze, it was of a light gray.
In her mind, she watched as Sam parried the blows with his sword without flinching, while she, filled with many feelings such as anger, fear and sadness gave powerful strokes lacking discipline. Each blow was brutal and direct, but diverted so easily that it seemed that she was not trying. And that infuriated her more. In terms of reality, the situation was not so different. Only missing swords. And the anger. Although she still did not gather enough anger to strike him. Even when he wanted to be so diplomatic. Never a straight answer. Like a cat. That was not enough reason to hit him. Sam did not deserve it, yet. Even when he worked so hard to divert her ideas to a resolution that did not include him, clearly trying to escape. Like she was a storm able to destroy everything. Meanwhile Celeste recovered her lost breath taking big gulps of air. When her cries died out completely, and her lungs were able to obtain sufficient air at an appropriate pace, was that the girl spoke again. Clearly influenced by his words. "I do not know." She said at last. He really had managed to grow that little doubt she had into a giant monster.
Now she was taking the control over herself, she clean her tears deftly with one hand while looking for a handkerchief in her purse with the other. When she found it, she continued with the task of cleaning her washed makeup. She tried not to think about it. Surely, she looked terrible. Changing her expression from that of a sad girl who can flood the world with her tears to a beautiful mask of indifference toward everything. She needed to feel strong. She must feign indifference or end crying again. "I will not cry all the time." Admitted the girl, driven by pride. She hated to cry. "But when I was alone in your room ... I felt like we could become friends." She confessed again not knowing what to say. The only thing she could think in favor of that uneven friendship, was that she would not have to compete with Sam as she was clearly superior. It was not something good to say. So she decided to remain silent. Her face softened again, showing her sadness. And while she quickly placed her mask of indifference on place, her voice betrayed her, showing her true feelings of sadness and loneliness.
Her employees had clear orders. They must go through the big event but keeping as far as possible and avoiding contact with the organizers. Basing her speculations on bad experiences, it was wise to keep her team on anonymity. she do not want any trouble for them. By avoiding a future recognition by the owners of the golden doors, she was sure to keep them safer. Each one would pass at a time previously set, wearing casual clothes and pretending disinterest. The hours were set so each round was separated from the previous with two hours between them, thereby identifying her improvised team of spies would be much harder. The third of the list, Peter, was the first to bring the expected confirmation. The makeshift tables were already filled with cakes of different colors, shapes and flavors. And better yet, there where a steady stream of interested people wanting to obtaining a free slice of cake. Of course, those responsible for distributing the cakes were dressed as a butler and a maid. Exactly as requested. Except for the little scavenger hunt around the city. They were plotting something but she could not figure out what. Or at least it would be impossible from the comfort of her room. So, she left.
The little girl stored the gold of the doors in her two little fingers and hidden the sparkling under gloves. Perfect for the cold. To avoid further suspicion, the limousine left her three blocks away, so she had to walk from there. Upon arrival, she found that the event was much bigger than she expected. There were many people willing to get a free piece of cake, and a lot more people willing to go on a search throughout the city. Apparently for a cash prize which was the same amount she had in her purse for emergencies. Everything was almost perfect, too perfect to her taste. There was no resistance from the owners of the doors, there was no attempt to fight back... it was too simple. Something was happening there. She knew it. But even when she sharpen her eyes and ears, she could not find nothing out of place. The only apparent problem was the mutant that was dressed as the butler. It looked completely normal, even handsome, but his skin was all red. As red as Mars. Or even more. She did not know what this mutant was capable of, and that terrified her. She did not know what any mutant was capable of, so she feared and felt uncomfortable around them. Therefore, she choose to receive a slice from the girl, at least she seemed human. Although her dress was too tight and too suspiciously short. In the mob were all sorts of people. Top executives, recognizable by their neat suits, briefcases and elegant hairstyles. Mothers with grocery bags, or some other stores, children grabbing their hands and constantly asking when they would return. And demanding a slice of cake. Even some men wore clothing worn and dirty for continued use, they savored each slice as if it were the best they had tasted in their whole life. For Celeste, the cake was decent but not spectacular. Others just stood out enough to be seen, they were so common in the way they dressed or speak that they were almost invisible in the crowd. Only a few stood out enough to be remembered, and unfortunately these worthy of being remembered were mutants. A man with one eye, which put discomfort in the nearest children. A girl with hair whiter than she had ever seen. Even whiter than snow. It was a nice color worth stealing... Someone with tentacles instead of arms. With feathers or scales, or both. With hair all over their body, with forked tongues, and eyes without pupils, with long and sharp claws. Was her imagination or there were more mutants than humans?
"It must be my imagination." Everyone knew that humans were many more. She was mesmerized by the strange crowd. The most common mutation seemed to be having animal features on their faces or hands, as the rat man who approached her. The big ugly rat opened his mouth, presumably to inform her about her dazzling beauty, but only managed a sharp growl while something like shaving cream fell from his mouth. Almost without thinking, her hands dived into the deep purse, disappearing to emerge moments later brandishing her trusty taser. The rat man did not react to the visual threat and kept going, even more decisively. The girl had no choice but to shoot. The metal teeth easily penetrated his clothes and hairy skin, using every inch of penetration available. Once under his skin, it downloaded a relentless wave of electricity through the metal cords into the poor mutant. Crack crack crack. The man passed out in a macabre dance of involuntary contractions.
Mr. Black was certainly an interesting man, instead of thinking of immortality as a divine gift, he put that idea aside almost instantly. Attributing it down to a lie product of human evilness. As if only a human could devise a plan so audacious and elaborate as creating immortal on earth. It was probably all a scam to get money, but if it was true... if so, how could anyone recruited by this man prove their newly acquired immortality? Just trying to kill himself... which no one would. She could not avoid imagining a group of people admitting to have eternal life, admitting to be indestructible but too scared to risk losing their precious lives. But even more fascinating than the assumptions of a twelve years old girl on immortality, was what Mr. Black pointed out for her. Something she had not noticed. Busy as she was to catalog the rumor as a lie. "What this individual is planning simply escape my understanding, as well as my interest. Surely he is a charlatan. Although I wonder how many tried to prove their new found immortality in the arms of death. " The feigned disinterest could not hide the interest created in that last new revelation. It was elementary, but she had overlooked it. If there was a way to create immortal, why would he turn them? What would he do with so many immortals in charge? An army?
The idea of an army of immortals gave her goose bumps. Fortunately her guest achieved to distract her from the horrible thought. Celeste was sure, her biggest dream was to train brilliant minds, and turn them into diamonds from mere stones. Even as a child with little empathy to guess the feelings of others, it was quite clear that her guest enjoyed shaping the human mind as clay. To help they improve to the point of almost reaching the very perfection. With so much knowledge and love for teaching, it was worth providing that priceless extra millennium to Mr. Black´s life spam. The idea made her smile. A new world shaped from the ideals of a noble man.
With a tinge of sadness at the inevitable departure of her guest the girl got up from her chair, to spend a final bow to honor her companion. While hurrying to speak. "Certainly I have one last question that would not steal more of your time. I do not want to left a future meeting in the capricious hands of fate. How can I find you if I need company for another philosophical evening? "
The fact that the small mutant thanked her, almost tore her heart. It even made her feel uncomfortable for the threat she gifted him as farewell . It was filled with so much malice. But she was responsible for maintaining the status of the infamous Manfrella family. She nodded approvingly. Praising her joke. While trying to decide if the boy had enough. Finally she choose to let him go. Both had enough of that. She was exhausted. And dirty.
With fearful steps, she timidly approached her bodyguard who was still lying unconscious on the floor. From his mouth fell a thin line of drool that the few drops of the soon to be storm could not wash. Kneeling beside him, she put two fingers on his jugular trying to feel his pulse. She waited. Then she get distracted. It was not easy. Then she tried again. To finally found what she wanted. There it was, loud and clear as a drum. His heart beating healthily.
At the moment her limousine and the ambulance arrived, her bodyguard was conscious. Confused by the strange situation, but conscious and without apparent damage. Max accompanied his partner Peter on the trip to the hospital. Just in case. Her driver, Malcom, drove her home. Along the way he glanced back several times, his eyes were full of confusion as he watched her clothes and her hair. And though he made no mention of it, she knew that the smell emanating from her was nauseating. "Nothing that a bath would not fix." She said to herself. Trying believe it. She knew it would take more than a hot bath to end that plague.
Part of her hoped for complaints and anger. Another part of her being expected an understanding impossible for a human. She wanted people to understand her without having to say a word. She wanted everyone to know what she wanted even before she knew it. But the world refused to fulfill her whims with such diligence. Sometimes it did not even met them, and she had to go out and bring order to the universe with green paper printed with the face of a dead man. That was the only authority that the world understood. And yet there were so many things she could not buy. But how to communicate with others? How to trust people? It was easier to pay them.
Her eyes watered, her lips trembled slightly. Her vocal cords repeatedly refused to provide her with the usual means of communication. She opened her mouth several times with the intention of stopping him. Just to add more excuses. But immediately closed it in the absence of sound. When orders finally reached her throat, her voice was weak. Almost a whisper that only him could hear . "Friendship." The word was pronounce as if it were an archaic magic fraught with danger. There was fear on her. Also doubts. But she said the word with great respect. Like a special sigil. A word able to contain countless concepts and situations. Her voice was filled with great sadness and uncertainty. What was friendship? She really did not know. The only person she called "friend" spent all her free time trying to surpass her. Humiliate her. She did the same. That was not friendship. It was not healthy.
Suddenly her voice became stronger, grew uncontrollably until that small cavity could no longer contain it. Her soft voice turned into almost a shout. And as it always happened when she expressed a truth hidden in her heart, she began to cry. "I want a friend, someone with personality who is not afraid to tell me if I'm wrong!" Tears fell from her eyes like waterfalls, dragging the little makeup she wore. Silent witnesses that her words were totally sincere. She paused abruptly, trying to fill her lungs with air to continue her confession. Her eyes were red, her tears black with the makeup. She took air in giant puffs, almost choking her. She tried to talk again but do not make it until the third attempt. This time a little more relaxed. Far from the initial explosion. "I want to relax with someone and not have to be the best at all times." Then stared at her feet. There was nothing interesting there except for her beautiful evening shoes. Extremely expensive and exclusive, but they looked as normal shoes. Without words, she became silent, at least as quiet as she could. More than still she was still panting from all the crying. Letting out little moans of her lungs in irregular contractions. She locked the rest of her confession into her memory, since it had nothing to do with Sam. "I want a father and a mother."
The genius hidden in her orange juice did not leave his lair. Neither could even if she drink the creepy concoction. If she had not been so depressed, she would have required something worth drinking. Celeste knew that normally, she would put all the staff to squeeze real oranges, just for her enjoyment.She would even demand a homemade lemon pie. She could even imagine the scene. But in that state she almost thought to deserve such a vile poison. And even when to hide in the orange liquid seemed the best option of all, she placed the glass on the table. Pretending not to be interested in it. She knew that the continuing to stab the liquid surface was not going to make it tasty. She put her glass in the same place where she found it. Between two glasses filled with the same fatal content. So its lack of content was obvious. Only the man in front of her could give her the answers she wanted. But ... Was she ready to ask again? Once was enough, and if he did not bring it up to the light she would not ask... but he did.
The accusation was weak. Negligible. She could avoid it with a couple of lies, as she always did. She could even change the subject and would never know she had done it. But neither would have a clue about her reasons for doing so. That was even more sad. If that was possible. That night it seemed that the girl had undergone some kind of magic re moralizing. Unable to lie, interested in other people, unable to hide under her mask of greatness. Her usual golden mask that separated her from mere mortals was missing. She felt naked without it. Unprotected. And although her dress was covered with a thin layer of liquid silver it was not the same. At some point during the night, her mask had fallen to pieces. The more she thought about it, the less sense it makes. But she was sure she would not able to lie, not because Sam represent something important in her life, not because she swore an oath, not because her conscience told her it was bad. No, lies were part of her body. As much as her eyes or hair. Without the lies and deceit she would not be herself. But that night, to lie was as little appealing than all the other options. The girl felt simply apathetic. Unable to feel anything but sadness.
Instead of avoiding the charge, and running in the opposite direction, she confronted him with all her might. She needed all her courage to make her confession, and a few seconds to decide to do it. But eventually the words left her lips. At first weak and confused, but getting firmly with each syllable. There was no turning back. "The crowns of princes are different." Stammered the girl. The second sentence was more loud and clear. But still a little awkward. "That is the crown of a queen. My crown. " Admitted the girl while a light blush covered her face.She was extremely embarrassed by that so childish admission. It was the first time she spoke openly of her self-coronation. That made her remember another similar situation. Where her father punish her for breaking a figurine of her mother. She did not remember her punishment. But she remembered how foolish she felt at that time. Guilty and remorseful. And despite already being regretting her confession, she continued with her explanation. Trying to make him understand something she did not understood. "I was so angry that I was going to paint your whole room. I wanted to destroy it... but then I realized... " She stopped abruptly. Not knowing how to continue. Not knowing what to say. Should she confess that he was perhaps the closest thing to a friend? Their relationship had been short. Problematic. Difficult. But before she found the words to explain the strange relationship they had, she found a hole through which to escape. "The crown was a gift." She said finally, as if that justified the destruction of his personal space. At the same time she gave him a new smile that tried to look cheerful. This time she almost succeeded.
The history of the mutant shocked her, she was even willing to step aside and let him go to be reunited with her mom. How much she wished her mother would step aside from all the family business and return to be in the same country as her. That's not going to happen. If she let the child go or not. She wanted to. But an alarm rang in her head. She could not trust someone who can so skillfully disguised. Its present form was a lie. What other lies would he say? What if it was all a trap? The person in front of her could even an adult disguised as a child. She had saw him changing shape, hiding. He camouflaged himself without any problem. And with alarming ease. Maybe he lied, perhaps he was telling the truth. Her judgment was clouded again with plots and lies. All against her.
The two maintained their positions, neither was willing to take the first step. As a Mexican stand off. Celeste knew that if she took the first step not only showed weakness, but also put her in the range of a power that she did not know. He could mutate again and stretch sticky tentacles... she could never be sure with mutants.
Celeste also had things to do and was getting a little impatient. Although she was doing her best not to show it, she wanted more than anything to get home and change her dirty clothes. To be taking a long hot bath and forget everything that happened that fateful day. She must also check the vital signs of her employee but it was not necessary. If he was only been electrocuted, he would regain consciousness and rise on its own without a scratch. But if Mr. mutant was telling the truth, he needed to get out of there or get in trouble. She had the advantage. An Advantage over what? To what purpose?
Finally, something she thought extinct indicated her what she had to do. "I believe you. Run before she get worry " Her brain did not believe the words that came out of her mouth, it did not understand why she was letting him go without making him pay for the state of her clothes, or after made her think he was a monster with the sole purpose of letting her in ridicule. "Traitor." A voice in her head repeated over and over. Her own voice. The more she thought about it, the least she wanted to end things peacefully. She wanted so badly to left him with a black eye, but again there was that little thing beating in her chest. And Although her brain fought fiercely, her heart win. The words already left her lips. She stepped to the side leaving the way open for the little mutant to escape. No before giving him a warning. She wanted him to remember his skirmish with The Queen "Be a good boy or I will zap you while you sleep." Mutants were predictable. Always attracted by the safe walls of the mansion.
A Roach! Kill it! [After the events that lead to the end of the Age of Sebastian and in consecuence, the end of the shared dream, Celeste contacted a private investigator to find Roach.]
Surprised by the male voice that emerged from nowhere, the girl jumped in her place so hard that almost threw the orange juice in which she was drowning her sorrows. Her face quickly went from sadness to anger in a second. Her delicate features converted into a porcelain mask. Cold and hard. She looked up to find the culprit, clearly annoyed by the little joke that almost caused her a heart attack. She did not need to look far. The culprit was right in front of her. When she recognized the familiar face, all her anger had disappeared to be replaced almost immediately by shame. Her blood quickly rose to her cheeks, forming a deep blush. She was assumed that no one was there. No one to see her stripped of all her glory. No one to see she was sad and depressed.
She had not seen Sam since their chance meeting in the store. His presence surprised her. This surprise reflected in her face, and also in the little smile of greeting that formed on her lips. She knew nothing of him since the day they met, the same day he made her cry for telling her the world was not what she thought. That day seemed so far away, all her memories of that week were blurred and confused. She could hardly remember what had happened exactly. She just remember crying and then sworn revenge. Her terrible revenge never came. She had a heart. And even though the incident appeared to have occurred years ago, it had been only a couple of weeks ago.
Among the colorful crowd, Celeste never saw Sam. Surrounded by so many mutants, it was difficult to spot a human being... But if Sam lived there, clearly he was a mutant. It was extremely easy for her to forget that Sam was one of them. His clear lack of horns, wings, tail and blazing eyes helped to hide that fact. Following that line of thought, it was easy for her to forget that he lived there. In the mutant mansion. If someone had to explain why to be there, it was her. So she began explaining it. "I came for the auction but I had no luck." The girl clarified, trying to spend a bright smile for him. Her lips ended forming a sad smile. A little crooked smile that refused to feign happiness.
Her melancholy eyes deposited again on the homogeneous orange juice surface. While her voice, small and lonely, made a very important question. "How are you?" The question hold many things she wanted to know about her new and perhaps only friend. There was a very important duality in that question. She needed to know whether or not she was angry with her, yet did not want to know the answer for fear of facing a hard reality. Her gaze was still fixed on the inside of the glass, staring at the magic genie that was going to answer her question. Unsure, she kept her eyes on the beautiful color she could not steal. Far from his eyes. Sam could be or could not be looking at her accusatory.
The monster denied having chewed him, Celeste did not care. She looked at him in disgust. Asking mentally for a better excuse. The culprit always declared himself as innocent. He remarked again her lack of intelligence. It seemed he had a rather limited vocabulary. As also remarked that she had left the poor man unconscious in the first place. Of course, now he was trying to blame her. Deep down, she knew that everything was her fault. She would not admit it. And then another word changed everything. Like the first time. The word mutant came out of his mouth, loud and clear. The reply was immediate, she glared at him while doubling the bet. "I'm a mutant too. "The girl admitted in the form of a threat. Hiding the fact that her skills were useless in combat. She begged that his imagination endow her powers capable of destroying everything in an instant. "So you'd better stay away before..." The words choked in her throat. Her mouth stayed open in the last pronounced word. The surprise was as big, she completely lost track of what she was saying. Her brain reset again.
Mutant. For a moment the girl did not understand what he meant. It was as if she heard that word for the first time in her life. She searched and searched in her head until she finally found the meaning of the word. At the same time the protection mechanism that had started before, magically shut down. Her adrenaline levels dropped considerably. And her senses returned to watch the world around her as a place to live, not as a giant monster ready to devour everything. And she saw him too. A scared mutant disguised as human. He was just trying to live a normal life...
When the statement took shape in her head, and she realized the possibilities involved in an active X gene, the blood rose quickly to her face to render it bright red. She blushed so hard, she felt that her blood would come out through the pores of her skin. Now that she knew and accepted the truth, there was no way that her brain would believe in the theory of monster or alien. It just made no sense since there was no evidence to support it. It was simple crazy talk. Embarrassed and proved wrong, she stared at the young mutant in disbelief. She watched him for several seconds without knowing what to do. Not knowing how to apologize. Until the new reality made her realize something that overjoyed her. "'Then, Is he alive?" She asked awkwardly with much disbelief, but smiling foolishly at the thought.
The beautiful girl was so enthralled with the profound words of her interlocutor that she never noticed the arrival of the new pianist until the music started again. His fascination with the chaos was contagious. Where she had said that the chaos was something to be avoided or transformed in order to create something, her "teacher" was showing her that chaos was much more than that. It was an equally important process of creation. Randomness. Unpredictable. A mutation. A change. Yes, she could see where his fascination originated. She nodded vigorously. "I understand, you are absolutely right." Said her face when moving in affirmation. She did not dare to interrupt. The chaos could both destroy and build. And though she would not admit to like it, she was pretty sure that chaos was probably to blame for her genetic mutation. For her ability to steal colors. Chaos was the odious gray objects left when she stripped one object of her life. Yes, that was chaos. That was its name. And although these lifeless gray spots were frightening, very disturbing, gave her the chance to do something that she both liked and enjoyed: creating. In the process of destruction and creation she found that chaos intervened. The idea that the lovely evening was becoming a kind of philosophy class, upset her but she could not avoid spending a nice smile as she nodded dumbly. She had become her student, the girl already could feel his ideas sticking to her indiscriminately. She knew it was not his intention to act like a teacher, so she let it go.
The fact that she was not having dinner alone was enough to say it was a lovely evening. As if that were not enough, music, food and the conversation were really excellent. Of those flavors that you never forget, those words that always accompany you and the music that delights even the most solitary souls. She did not remember when she had smiled so much. And this time, was the music that drew a new smile on her lips. These delicate chords of the piece composed by Bach were honey to the ears. A treat as sweet as dessert. She even allowed a little break, not because the conversation bored her, on the contrary. But she needed to look at the pianist performing his art. His hands caress the keys with delicacy and firmness at the same time, effectively extracting sweet sounds from each movement. Celeste took another spoon full of fruit with cream and chocolate. The pyramid swung dangerously threatening to collapse. But its silent complaint failed to stop her fierce hunger. With grace and style, she keep eating maximizing the time she was stealing from Mr. Black.
Cheating death. She was about to said that no one could cheat death, that we all die. Like her grandfather. He fought with all his might, but the illness was stronger. The death claimed him, and he could not do anything to avoid it. She felt a little sad and melancholy. Remembering her beloved grandfather always made her feel that way. She felt a mixture of envy and pity for the man who denied his own mortality, how a man so learned and so wise could believe in immortality? Determined to not ruin the night with sentimentality she commented something sh he found very interesting. "There are many men out there saying that their souls are immortal..." A dramatic pause to catch his attention and accommodate her thoughts. "But there are rumors that a horned man is selling physical immortality, here in NY. I say that these are pure lies. Lies to steal money from people. But some say it's true. " She smiled mischievously, leaving aside her painful memories and focusing all her attention on the night that was almost perfect. "Tell me, Mr. Black. What would you do in an immortal body? " Slowly she savor her own thoughts. Knowing what she would respond. Longing for the absence of fear. That freedom of the tyrant called Death. "I would enjoy my freedom. No rules. I would do whatever I want whenever I wish. "
