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.
One by one the chairs in front of the improvised stage were emptying. At first the people formed small groups to chat for a while. She clearly heard the laughter and the murmur of each small group. Islands in the ocean. Then gradually the occupants began to leave the place alone or in pairs, chatting amiably about the different amounts bidden and how much would help the Frisbee team. Everyone seemed happy. All but Celeste, who was still sitting in the same place she in front of the stage. The very place she occupied during the entire evening. Her eyes penetrated the empty space with rage, she was one of the few who had not received a single bid. Even worse than that was the fact that she could not cheat. The auction ended so suddenly she could not ask for help from her bodyguard to not end in zero. In her meditation, she found two very important questions that she can not answer. The first, she wanted to know why no one choose her. The reasons for picking her in a date were in sight. She was beautiful, intelligent, rich, an not a mutant. The reasons not to pick up her remained a mystery. Her second silent question was less important. Much less personal. Still, just as mysterious. How much money is needed to form a Frisbee team? She knew that for other sports it would take much more money. Such as for horse riding and Polo were needed much equipment, a horse and money to keep all that. Even art needed a huge amount of money. Music was no exception. She thought of a piano or a violin, but any instrument should be worth more than a whole Frisbee team.
Celeste suspected that the premature end of the event had been an elaborate plot against her. There was not another reason why she was alone. She was one of the best bets, even with only 14 years she surpassed in beauty all the other girls that were presented. It was clear that mutants, which were plentiful in the crowd, had a very different taste. Yes, that´s why. She was beautiful, their mutant eyes did not let them to see that her external beauty was as great as her inner beauty. Or so said the girl. With a sigh, she stood up slowly. Feeling defeated. Delaying the return as much as possible. Walking slowly, and hesitating at every step. Her dress of liquid silver shone while receiving light, and did so again with every movement. Instead of heading to the exit, where her bodyguards were waiting, she approached a table where there were still several untouched glasses of juice. The girl picked one of them without much enthusiasm and swallow its content. It was warm. And the taste was disgusting. Full of frustration she let out a long sigh, and wonder aloud, obviously without waiting for a response. "Am I not pretty enough?" Her dark eyes full of reproach, searching for answers in her orange drink.
Defeated. Tired. Dirty. Extremely scared. A little sad. Her mind was a whirl of emotions. Unable to stop the flow of thoughts that ran at high speed on her mind, she analyzed them one by one. All of them. Slowly. It was an arduous task. Externally the untrained viewer might say that she was paralyzed. Analyzing. Looking from the lifeless body to the monster that was over it. As she watched, it began to change shape. It was a incredibly realistic camouflage, and he changed in just a moment. A modern chameleon. Now it looked like an innocent child. As if that trick was going to work... She had seen him without disguise. It was too late for him. Apparently, his new human form gave him the ability to speak the native language. The monster screamed. In English. Do they speak English on other planet ...? Doubts. More doubts. All about that being was new and strange. Except for the insult. Right from the earth. The insult itself did not surprised her. She felt anger growing inside her flat chest. Stupid? How dare that horrible monster treat someone like her that way? Clearly she, who was a beautiful being and wholly human was right. She was good. The villains were always ugly. But even knowing she was right, she did not dare to retort. Perhaps she was facing a race of superior intelligent things able to conquer the universe... Stupid. She shook her head in disbelief once again, rejecting the insult. She was not stupid. The facts were there. It was impossible not to see the path of crumbs that pointed to the real culprit. Even at the distance she could clearly see a small trail of blood, probably by where the alien had inserted his tongue to remove Peter´s juicy brain. As a frozen monkey brain. The memory of the dishes that movie gave her nausea. It was a stupid movie in her opinion.
All the time she was looking at all the possibilities. Escape routes, ways to deal with that strange thing. But all her ideas were useless. She did not have any tactical advantage. She must negotiate. But... With what? It seemed another of the many dead end. She told herself to be rational, trying to find an answer for a problem that was not rational at all. Then all of a sudden she had a brilliant idea. Keeping the desire to run and cry under control, she begged the alien with a sweet voice, soft but audible. The first drops of rain fell slowly, while her voice full of deep and sincere sorrow made her request. "Do not chew him, please." At the same time she delivered her plea, she took her purse that had hung on her left arm to turn it into a improvised Morning Star. And left it hanging from her right hand. She had so many things in the bag, that the bruise caused by her improvised weapon would leave anybody out of combat with a single blunt hit. Or that was what she hoped for. "I have a bag and I know how to use it." The memory of the sandal that did not follow the desired trajectory did not discourage her.
Her priority at that time was to lure him away from the corpse, and she thought to know exactly whats he had to do... that thing looked hungry. She was hungry too. The girl hesitated, unsure. But after a moment of silence, she finally continued. "I can find a cow for you to eat..." Alien likes cows. Right? She was pretty sure the answer would be positive. But just in case she added hastily. "Do you prefer..." Pause. She opened her mouth wide open, pronouncing each syllable with care. "... Cabra?" The peculiar foreign word felt strange in her mouth. Alien like. Still, she tried her best. Trying to do not infuriate the strange creature even more. He even could be the famous Chupacabras. His ability to copy humans was something new, no one had ever mentioned it over the years. But perhaps that secret was what had kept him alive all the time. What was he doing so far north?
After her little prank, she triumphant returned to the mansion lobby. Once business were Finished, it was time for pleasure. And she would find no greater pleasure than shooting people and filling them with paint. She took her gun, shoot it to found if it worked and opened the heavy wooden doors. At the moment she stepped out of the mansion she was shot three times on the chest. The impact of the bullets was not painful, but her pride was hurt and once again demanded fresh blood. Enraged Celeste began to shoot at anyone that moved, not really knowing who was on her team. After a few minutes the anger had evaporated from her heart, and she was running and laughing with the rest of the students.
Having exhausted all the bullets, returned all protection and weapons, the war was officially over. Celeste as the organizer of the event felt extremely proud of the result. A lot of students had participated and for the comments and laughter was easy to guess that they had a great time there. Smiling she left the mansion. The mutant mansion. Monsters, threats. And who knows how many other harmful names. At that time they were seemed to be ordinary children.
During the clamor of their opinions, a timidly waiter approached with the bottle of wine she had ordered. As she was not sure what to order, Celeste had no choice but to trust on the judgment of the waiters. Hopefully the bottle would be the same wine that his guest was drinking in his previous table. While Waiter A filled both glasses, Black´s with wine and water for her, Waiter B approached with a delicate dessert. It was hard to know what it was, or had been before passing through the hands of the chef. Now it had a strange form. Artistic. Using the classic resource of giving volume to the figures... She carefully observed her plate, looking at the best place to start eating. It was like a pyramid that was missing a face. Somehow it kept in equilibrium even though one side appeared larger and heavier than the rest. When she finally decided where, she took a big spoonful of one side. The least vulnerable. Chocolate. Cream. Fruits. An interesting mix.
Very quietly, the girl took a clean napkin to wipe some cream from her mouth. "You are a very complicated man, Mr. Black. But do not get me wrong please. Of course I partly understand why you crave for destruction. It is necessary for the creation of something new, but I am not sure about chaos... even the destruction can be highly planned and organized if desired." Or so she thought. Then smiled innocently as if her beautiful smile would hide her lack of knowledge. It was a very interesting debate, and despite all her outstanding grades on school, he was far ahead on many topics. Politics and economics were not her forte, so she avoided them as best as she could. To plunge into philosophy so hard was something she did not want too. Thus she continued the most appropriate way. Affirming her ideals. "What I wish, is to create. At that time I find peace. My dream is to achieve a work of art that endures despite the time and the ages. "
Now it came her turn to make a new confession. It was not necessary. But she wanted to. The similarity between them was visible in many aspects. And that pushed her to share more, even when it was only to compare herself with him and find if they have more similarities or not. Perhaps he would also admit feeling something similar. Perhaps even its vast knowledge would have a solution to her fear. She doubted for a moment, looking at her dessert, then took a sip of water. Not hearing the silent piano, then continued. Her voice between distress and sadness. "I fear death. Not because it is close in any way. But as something inevitable. I fear, above all, to leave this world without leaving a memento to make people remember me forever... and I do not believe you can live in the hearts of loved ones." Just, in love films. "So I try to create. I want to be a great artist some day... but my art is almost abstract at this time. I need to refine my skills more. " She concluded with a little crooked smile. Celeste wanted to tell him about the attempt to paint a giant rainbow around Central Park, or how she had painted pink a dozen cars, adding silky texture to them. Not knowing how he would react, she keep it a secret.
She was very surprised that both felt much more comfortable in the company of their employees. Why? There was no way to explain this strange bond of trust between employer and employee. But it was magical. Max, her dearest bodyguards had not been with them for more than a year but she felt it was like a distant uncle. Someone you trust and with whom to share problems. And despite that, she did not know him at all. She had to remedy that... "Unfortunately, you could not be more wrong. I would be dining alone if not for our chance meeting. My father is in Italy, my mother with him. Right now, one of my bodyguards is like a father to me, but it is not the same as hi authority ends when I sign a check in his name... I also have a legal guardian. A wise old man, but I almost never see him. I do not want to, I feel like he want to replace my grandfather." There was sadness in her words, but something else. Disappointment and defeat. Conformity. She had grown accustomed to not having her father or her mother nearby. Not completely, of course. But the most mature fragment of her being, knew that she was on her own.She had her bodyguard, chauffeur and tutor. But still she was alone in a crowd.
Her blood infested with adrenaline boosted her body. Far. Fast. Her little lungs filled and emptied of light and cold air, her heart pumping oxygenated blood to all the cell in frenzy following an ancient song of survival. Her body was a machine made for running. And she was doing great, until suddenly an idea materialized in her mind. Solitary and small. But strong and irrefutable. The man said something. Then, with the same speed as that absurd idea attacked, the world around her became a dizzying whirl of color and sound. Multiple colors were washed as fresh paint, creating a burst like a rainbow that surrounded her quickly. Wrapping her head accompanying her in her fall. She rolled on the floor unable to stop, spinning several times before hitting something. It was a plastic garbage can. Her purse flew in one direction while one of her sandals did the same in the opposite direction. Gasping and cursing, the child sit up shaking the garbage off of her expensive clothes. She looked around for witnesses. But luckily she found no one. Still a bit dizzy, she picked up her purse and her broken sandal. Confused began to remember in retrospective. Until the silly idea assaulted her again. The man said her name.
With horror, she understood what her brain was trying to say. She had shot someone she knew and had left him there, helpless. Desperate, the girl ran back with the hope that the damage was not so much. Even willing to apologize and accept her mistake. Thing that the poor electrocuted man should accept with pride. Since it do not happen often. But upon reaching the scene, she noticed with genuine astonishment and disbelief as a creepy alien chewed someone looking remarkable like her bodyguard, Peter. The situation was simply absurd and seemed to get worse with each minute. The creature looked human, except for the lack of skin that exposed its many muscles like cords. These thick filaments were as red as blood. That being looked like a fresh corpse from the morgue or some top-secret laboratory.
She looked creepy too, though not as much as the monster. Only kept one of her sandals, the other was in her hand. Her purse and clothing were completely stained with organic garbage. Her hair disheveled and dirty. And her face was a mask of horror completely white. Peter was dead, and it was all her fault. She had killed someone. Celeste was almost on the verge of become hysteric, but managed to use all her willpower to not panic. Concentrating all her anger at that infernal being, knowing full well that if she had not electrocuted him, he could have defended himself from that abomination. Now, it was her obligation to at least give him a proper funeral. And for that she needed to rescue the body in good shape. The voice that came out of her mouth was loud and clear. Full of authority."Go away monster!" Her thunderous voice commanded as she threw a sandal to the horrible creature with all her might. Astonished with the result, Celeste watched with horror as the projectile moved at an impossible angle and hit her bodyguard in the head. "Rats."
My taser-user girl will be happy to electrocute one or two villains. Or hero... depending on the situation. I do not think she would feel very comfortable around Roach, but if they managed to overcome his physical appearance, I imagine that the two could do some vandalism together. I can just think of candy now... candy robbery.
Celeste can be both. A damsel in distress or a bold girl dealing with bad people. In the first situation, she might need a little help. That after the problem is solved she would probably do not want to recognize. In the second case, someone could try to help her, just to appear when she already took care of the problem. For a post combat talk or something around that.
For Agnes it occurred to me that insects could be attracted to some colorful garment Celeste is wearing. Or the brilliant color of her nails.
If all else fails, we could try the classic but effective day of shopping. Where her credit card will shine.
Celeste would be very interested in someone capable of producing solid words of thin air. Proabably she would try to steal any of these words and analyze it and then steal its color. With fully scientific purposes, of course.
She might also be interested in taking a class or two with a comic artist. Since she loves to draw and paint. Only that hers jobs are more free.
The last rays of sun were disappearing over the horizon, covering every object within reach of a strange orange color. At the same time it created deep shadows everywhere. Perfect black pools, dangerous hiding places. A few heavy drops of water hit her umbrella while a sudden wind attempted to take it away from her hands. Both announced in unison an impending storm on the way. Fortunately it was not raining yet.
Celeste was not entirely sure since when she was being followed. It was as if the male figure wrapped in a long overcoat had emerged from the shadows at the very moment the sun had disappeared. In an instant there was no one, and suddenly the man was there. Following her. Of course, it was not the only person on the street. There were more people walking or running around the soon to be rain, all too preoccupied with himself to notice the silent persecution. That man was the only person who walked behind her for a couple of blocks ago. Staying close but keeping a safe distance. He was a sinister mockery of her own shadow.
Determined to avoid becoming a sad statistic, she rummaged in her purse until she found her taser. Small and reliable. The size of a TV remote control. In theory a full discharge would be enough to knock him out and give her enough time to run as fast as possible and get away from the animal that was trying to hunt her. In practice she had never used the device against a human being. So she had her doubts. But still deposited her trust in that particular gadget. The girl was impatient, holding her taser tightly in her right hand. So strong that she feared it would break. Anxiety threatened to waste her only chance. But when the distance between them was less than before, she turned suddenly. Finding determination and courage she can not believed she had. The girl threw her umbrella aside and ran to close the gap even more. Brandishing the little instrument in front of the alleged offender in a threatening manner. The man had no time to react. Small metal fangs jumped from six meter afar, piercing the skin and clothes alike, to download its paralyzing anger directly into his muscles. Taking him down on one shot. A small drowned word escaped from his throat before the electricity shut off his motor functions. The man fell down immediately becoming an amorphous ball product of the strong muscle contraction, unable to stand. The girl immediately ran in the opposite direction. Turning off her brain to direct all the energy to the simple but extremely important task of moving her legs as fast as she could.
Despite the feeling of guilt, she knew it was part of the magic of the uniform, the badge and the police car. Each small piece was designed to create a sense of guilt, even if it was false. Celeste knew that she felt no guilt for the act of vandalism, not for lying to an officer who was just doing his job. But that uncomfortable feeling in her heart continued all the way. She was scared. Fear was the source of her tears that flowed onto her lips. Her mouth closed all the way. As graves. She thought.
Although she knew that lies were not going to take her anywhere, she would not tell the truth. So she kept her sanity trying to invent a compelling story. It was just to lost some time. Since she was extremely bored, impatient and uncomfortable. No matter what position she tried, Celeste could not find the comfort she need to calm down her impatience. It was not her limousine. It was not her couch. It was not her bed. She was in a police car heading for a long and tedious questioning. That was the part that most terrified her. Entering a dimly lit interrogation room as in the movies. Where a police officer would shout questions and to try to get the truth. She had many ideas and many doubts in her head, completely unaware of the procedure but if anything was certain, was that the night would be long. Very long.
She wanted to retort, but did not know much about economics. Only that she never was in a crisis. Her bank accounts received money constantly... But when he mentioned the concentration camps for mutants she could not avoid a disastrous attempt to give her opinion. Celeste opened her mouth to add her voice to the systematic attack of Mr. Black, but then closed it immediately. Doubting her judgment. What would she say? Perhaps that some mutants were dangerous enough to lock them in a concentration camp or worse, execute them for the good of society. Could it be that his guest was a mutant? Aside from the defenders of human rights and equality, no one care about the camps. Or mutants. They just looked the other way. As she did. That was a problem for others, a minority. A crooked little smile formed on her face as a little voice reminded her of her newly discovered power. Unfortunately, it was possible that she was part of that minority. Does that made her more special or less refined?
Mr. Black, as a giant wild bull of the same color as his name, unashamedly rammed over kings and fools alike. Leaving a bloody trail of dissent. It was not only accumulated anger, there was more there. It was a bohemian attitude. Disappointed from the world and all its contents, sadly knowing that no one would understand or would be at his level ever. From gentleman to gypsy. But it was not so easy to label him. In all its aspects he seemed to be an scholar. A wise old man, a brilliant mathematician or a Greek philosopher. She did not decide it yet. Perhaps all at once.
After asking for more wine for his guest, and an elaborate dessert for her, she asked. Somewhat annoyed with the vision of Mr. Black. "Your ideas are very interesting, but I do not entirely agree. Don't you see a certain beauty in the new cities? I mean, there is an impressive mix of cultures never seen before. It is a bazaar with amazing fusions. Antiques and modern gadgets in one place. Friends and enemies together. Don't you see certain charm? " She kept her eyes on him. Dreamy, dubiously. Imagining all continents compressed together in the city of New York. All the little things that globalization had brought from distant lands. Refined clothes from Paris, food and cars from Italy, it was Europe in America. The words of his guest took her away from her reverie. A sigh. And a sad truth. "Mr. Black, Do you have children or friends who share your ideals? Your triumphs and failures... your daily life. " Celeste asked innocently. But driven by a strange fascination. She found herself reflected on him. In the many features of his personality and circumstances. Hopefully, she acute her ear waiting for his reply. It could be the revelation she needed. The knowledge of the secret that kept him sane and happy in a world that turned its back to him.
The feeling was contradictory. The greatest contradictions in her life. Even bigger than the love and hatred she felt for her father. And bigger than the indifference she felt for her beloved mother. She just started to explore her powers to determine its nature and limits, driven by a malign fascination. Although at first she feared these small acts against God, at the very moment when her power "failed", her heart stopped. Metaphorically. It happened for about a minute. A fatal minute she felt a part of her soul had died. A minute she did not know if her powers had disappeared or she had simply done something wrong. Once Celeste found her powers were still there, she became herself again. The color returned to her body and her heart began to beat again, like waking up after a long winter. Like a bear. It was a strange feeling. She needed so hard to know that her powers were there that even after several minutes, she still remembered these moments of uncertainty with anguish. The girl had only tried to do something that her powers could not. Simple. She thought, trying to calm down again. The sense of loss attacked her constantly, but with less and less intensity. The memory was becoming weaker over time. Or she was getting stronger. Whatever it was... something growled. Whatever it was, her stomach was no longer interested in the past. It demanded as a king, a new ration of food. Dinner was just an empty promise for it. Far away. Although lunch was substantial, and only a short time ago, she agreed to its demands. She was slightly hungry and tired. Not extreme fatigued, but wanting to relax and enjoy a moment of calm.
She slipped back through the house, into the kitchen. With her bare feet enjoying the different textures and temperatures of the floor. Cold mosaic with geometric designs. Warm wood of a costly tree. Synthetic and natural carpets, short-pile carpets of a weird material, they even had the classic bear rug. From a real bear. Her long journey through the different textures eventually led her to the goal. The kitchen. A cool marble floor. She refilled her long glass with more orange juice, took more cookies and another slice of lemon pie. Then, went to her room again. Her bed received her with open arms, inviting her to sleep. She refused the proposal with great delicacy. Although the idea of a nap was very tempting, thinking about the gray men did not provoke much laughter on her. She shook her head as she watched her pillow with sorrow, apologizing. Celeste switched on her television and let the incessant digital voices of some program to entertain her while finishing her lunch.
While Mr. Black sang tales of his noble house and explained that the lineage was as important as the action taken to establish it, she cut a small bite of the delicious and exclusive Japanese beef that she had ordered. Just as the two piece performed on the piano were works of art, the meat cooked to the exact point and with modern methods was also piece of art. Perishable. Of an extremely short life. But art nonetheless. Every little bit was dipped in bittersweet sauce before reaching her mouth, where it melted between her teeth as if it were butter. So soft was the meat that even someone with no teeth could have successfully chewed it.
"Your family history is very interesting. You know the details perfectly. I'm afraid I can not give many details." " Because my father would end into a maximum security prison. " She smiled, shuffled her ideas, then continued. It was hard to tell a story she did not know, but it was even more difficult to disguise or hide parts of the story she did know well. She lied as she was accustomed to do every time someone asked about her father. "The power or the influence of my family, originated in Italy two generations ago. With my great grandfather. He worked for a man I can not remember but he managed to win his confidence, and at his death my great grandfather took his business. Making it our own business. When he died, my grandfather took his place, and then my father. " Her father was not so bad, he was not internationally wanted yet. Even when it was not probably, she paused on the physical plane to ask mentally. "Do you work for the DEA?" No answer. Two scenarios were possible. Or she could not read people's thoughts. Or Mr. Black was not part of this nefarious organization. Surely a gentleman so refined and educated as he was, could not be part of any organization against organized crime. "As you said, the nature of their business demands to evolve constantly. He adapts to the changes and demands of the people. " Read: kidnapping, selling guns and drugs, beating people. Exploding cars. "Outside of Italy, our name is not well known." She smiled mischievously. "Although sometimes rumors cross the ocean giving us some fame." The girl do not dare to think on the rumors about Nicola Manfrella. But she thanked God and all the saints that nobody had the courage to get evidence.
Determined to avoid future questions about the family business, she hastened to ask. "How do you find the new world?" She really wanted to know more of the old continent, the place she had never see and where her name was born. Along with much of the culture consumed in America. But she also was curious to know how a man like him from a spacious and quiet land, stuck in a crowded city with limited space, let alone peace. Would he feel alone? She wondered in silence, remembering her own loneliness.
Every time the congratulations seemed to have finished, after a minimal silence, a new guest sang a new praise. And so, all the way back to her table she gave tons of small tilts of her head in acceptance for such deserved compliments. And despite this delighted her so much, she knew very well that at least half of those who raised their voices or their glasses in her honor, did not really understand the greatness of the piece performed. It was sad. Even pathetic... Fortunately it was not so hard to guess who had appreciated the music as the artwork it was. And who did not. It was something in the tone of their voice, perhaps the little t none grace in what they said... but it was there for her to analyze. Imitators. She thought furiously. People pretending to be better than others, when all they did, was buy an expensive suit.
Despite the adulation were many, only one achieved to draw her attention enough to get a verbal reply. To this gentleman, she decided to gave a timely curtsy in his honor. While verbalizing cordially her response. "It was a pleasure to rid your ears off of that aberration that was committed against the innocent piano." And although her joy was great she achieved to perfectly hide it under a mask of harder seriousness. Underneath her mask she was smiling foolishly, enraptured by the sweet words and his English charm. While physically she smiled and nodded at his words with cordiality. Only occasionally escaped from its prison, a mischievous smile caused by the beautiful idea that the infamous Manfrella family was a family as noble as the house of Black. It was not hard to imagine anyone of an ancient house of the old continent maintained a code of honor forbidding the dirty games of deceit and lies. So Celeste could trust her new companion to said nothing but the truth. Each praise was true. She was not morally bound to respond in a friendly and old way but she did anyway. Those old fashioned courtesies always had a supernatural charm in any lady. So she answered accordingly. Recalling all her education, manners and some film of knights and damsels. "I'll not accept an apology when I'm the one who is guilty of ignorance by not knowing your noble ascendancy. At the same time, I fear that I must inform you with great sorrow that in my family do not runs noble blood. And that's why you do not know us. "This last sentence was hard to accept for her, but she knew that there was no nobility in the family and many people do not know their name. For a moment, she was about to tell him it was just the work of a very patient instructor, tenacity and a desire to outdo someone were sufficient to achieve such a degree of mastery. Instead she preferred to attribute her grace to an innate ability. "Unfortunately, the grace is not something to learn, as can be seen in many of the people around us. " Remembering her manners, hunger and solitude, she cordially invited the pleasant gentleman to sit down with her. "I would be honored if you accept to be my guess tonight my good sir."
