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.
Aura did as she wanted, and hammered the person. Hard. With multiple follow up plans. She saw most of it, while hunkered down. Though, to admit, Amelia was far more focused on her own problems.
Controlling the hand and resisting the man’s strength was… a problem. He seemed stronger than your average bear, as if he weren’t one to be constrained by mundane things. Her brow broke out in a cold sweat as she focused, really focused. She managed the few seconds it took for Aura to do her thing, and send him flying.
Amelia’s constructs both broke, as the man got knocked ass over tea kettle by the woman in the mask. There was a tiny bit of mental pain associated with it, but nowhere near the amount of pain some psychics experienced. At least, comparing it to her other known construct user, Shin. For him, it was migraines and bloody noses and awful. For her… owwwww… but She’d be fine.
How far he went—
Amelia turned the word “Damn” into a reverent, holy word. That was the only word for it.
Aura did not usually hit with enough force to “home run ball” a baddie…. Did she? But that one… that one…
“… would have been out of Yankee stadium,” she muttered to herself.
The floor had given way around him. She had been far enough away a few quick steps back from the ruin would have been enough to avoid tumbling in after him. Structural damage, there was plenty. She could only speak for herself, but—
They did not pay her enough to drop down over 30’ and several floors, to give chase. Her report would make it clear that when the dust had settled and she had looked over the edge into the abyss, he had gone. He had escaped.
Amelia was already mentally compiling her report. Nobody could have asked more from her than what she had done. It is unfortunate, but some days, the bad guy gets away. As for how Aura handled his eminent escape— sorry, “Unknown mutant.”
Her report would not call the woman Aura. Why would it? Aura was still someone SUPER probably wanted to talk to. This helper was somebody who had been nearby and attempted to assist, in some vigilante justice. Would SUPER care? What had cameras caught? Would there be fallout for her not fighting or attempting to even question Unknown Mutant, hereby further referred to mentally as “Um.” And where even was she?
Amelia looked around for her, through the drifting concrete dust. To see if the person had fallen, or stayed on their feet. Because until she knew that, there was not much further she could do except speak into the communication mic on her riot helmet.
“He fell through the floor… and is likely engaged in escape efforts at lower levels of the facility,” she said quietly. Quiet enough the mic could pick it up, not loud enough Aura should be able to hear, wherever she was. Amelia had even turned away and taken a few steps from the broken floor area to be sure of all of that. Afterwards she said, loudly, “Hey you okay?”
The law enforcement outside were indeed jolted by the sudden wave of shocking force. One landed on his ass. His partner looked down at him and offered her hand, to right him. Others fell to similar fates. Or didn’t, hunkered down behind shields.
Back inside the fighting grounds, Amelia was groggily righting herself.
They had tumbled, they had rocked, and they had rolled. They had also survived. The combination of her coat and Aura’s defense had kept them from serious injury. Even so, her head still hurt and it was a wonder she had not bonked the woman in the head with her riot helmet during their trip across the room.
The pink hand reached down to daintily pluck her up by one gloved hand, and support her as she got to her feet. Amelia braved her hand against a translucent pink palm. It was a little less than her size, floating in midair at her side.
Time for a wellness check.
Body, bruised and shaken. Knees and arms were the main points of ache. The irony was, these were not from the ground, but from contact with aura and Aura. And her own hand construct, from where it had pressed against her back. Whoops.
Her head? Achy. And her ears? Ringing. Possibly, there was some blood. The riot helmet might have helped slightly, there. But she would not know for certain until it came off. Sounds came distorted, but that would better with time.
There were other things, sure, but they were small. It could have been far worse.
The room was a mess. Bodies were scattered. The floor was gouged, and looked like a giant had punched it at one place. In hindsight, Amelia realized Aura had probably done most of that while trying to keep the two of them from flying down the hall. Or into a wall. Also, that pink aura had likely contributed more to their survival than all the enchantments on her clothing, combined. The electric resist or heat resist may have helped, some. Amelia had been trying to help Aura, but had helped herself far more. Her ego weathered the hit with great care. She looked to the pink woman, to see how she fared.
Aura was okay. Standing in front of her, blades drawn. Protecting her?
Amelia suddenly felt self-conscious. Her back straightened and she stood a bit taller. Slapped the palm of the pink hand, and sent it to glide out in front of her, palm towards the man in a gesture of denial. The youngling (was that her?!) summoned a pink drill construct and set it to spin in the air in front of her right fist. For good measure.
I will not fan girl Aura. I will not fan girl Aura. I will not—
——
And how fared the mysterious man?
He was still upright, and still wearing a mask that hid how he was feeling. There were vague muffled sounds coming from his direction. Amelia dug a finger in one ear and said conversationally (and since she was mostly deaf, too loudly):
“I did not catch a word of that. Is he even talking? I can’t see his lips moving. On three, dance? Okay? Three!”
She ran a few steps forward, bringing the big pink hand and the drill up in front of her like she was going to launch them. Hauled back her fist. Her range was 60 feet. The distance between them was much less than that. And, fired!!
The fist flew at the man, then— vanished as she dismissed it, only to reappear an instant later, in his face. The fingers wrapped around the helmet as the pink hand went from translucent to opaque. Blocking his vision. And— she started to apply pressure. It was only a distraction. The pressure she could exert was only equal to her own physical strength, and that was not superhuman. As she dug her fingers in, though, she started to wrench and tug at the helmet itself. Trying to either yank it off, or, what, yank his head off? Haha. No. But let him think that.
While she left that matter for him to deal with, she ran forward another few steps and sent the pink drill spinning, slowly spinning, to curve around him and stop behind his legs at around knee-level. It elongated and widened into a cylinder.
For Aura’s sake, she had attempted temporarily blind him by blocking the physical field of vision in his helmet. Almost simultaneously, she had tried to set up a tripping hazard behind him. If Aura hit him hard enough, he might fall. And if she got him while he was blind, then all the better.
She hunkered down, and pulled her coat around herself protectively as she focused on her constructs. She imagined they’d be getting beaten rather shortly, and needed all the concentration she could get.
Okay, so maybe it had not been laughter. A slight tilt of the head, a “you have got to be kidding me?” It all added up to four, just the same.
Amelia opened her mouth, about to mouth off. To be all “No sir, no kid.” But then someone in eighteen inches of pink energy waltzed onto the scene. Also carrying a corpse. What, was it “hold a dead body” day and no one had told her? First him, then her, then Lady Pink!
… Aura, Amelia’s mind whispered to her.
Aura. The mass murderer. The violent mutant she had met. Mirror had introduced them once, and Amelia had been full of so questions, so many! She had been young, naive, and just bold enough to peaceably interrogate someone infamous for how often they liked to paint the town red. They’d honestly gotten along okay. Mirror had, if she recalled correctly, been horrified. And then? Years later, she had pretended to be the woman, in order to spook some thugs who had been harassing a cute nurse lady. And that, basically, had been her history with Aura.
She knew Aura had supposedly died, or else gone silent. Had not been active in quite a while. SUPER had a great big file on Aura, alongside numerous other former Order members of infamy. And here she was, opting for a non-violent approach. Amelia had thought herself bold. Aura was a whole other level.
At first, she had been uncertain if the woman in question were actually Aura. There was a mask. She was not covered in blood. The pink aura was pretty damning, but it was only when Amelia heard the woman speak that she was certain on her identity. It sounded like the woman. Both in vocal tone, inflection, all that happy crappy, and in the way she spoke. The words she used. Few could emulate it, rarely duplicated. One of a kind.
There was a faint plop behind the man as her constructs vanished, and gravity did it’s thing. No body was on her mind any more. Just the two of them. It was a good thing she had stayed focused. Because the man was doing something.
He stretched out his arms, and energy flashed over his whole being.
He said he was no mutant.
He was a freaking Magic-user, like her! The one who had ghosted her, so many months ago. A fracking magician. She did not like magicians. And she figured she would not like what he was planning to do next.
Survival mode took over.
She could have tried to stop him from clapping, turned his hands aside with a construct, done something… but there was next to no chance it would have achieved any worthwhile results. All it might have done was delay, and give Aura (if that is your TRUE NAME) a chance to do… something. What, Amelia had no clue. Or, she could play it smart. Since she had not done much of that so far.
Amelia played it smart. The riot shield, she let clatter to the floor. She was running, running, running towards this supposed Aura. And as she did, she shouted something she hoped would make aura less likely to hit her.
“Mirror and baby Iris say, if you want to survive, drop aura, hug me! And go down!!”
There. Name dropping baby Iris was enough celebrity for a day. Had Aura even been at the baby shower? If mirror was auras friend, she’d probably been incognito. But if not—
There was no time for hesitation. Would she listen? Amelia rushed in for a tackle hug. If she succeeded, the sequence of events would go something like this:
Glomp, drop, and roll.
She would, for lack of a better word, “glomp” Aura, drop Aura, and then roll them both up in the protective effects of her duster. A big pink ghost hand construct would press down on top of them, to keep the coat in place… and to pin them between the bars of its fingers, as well. Prone would reduce surface area to be hit, the fingers would help prevent them from being tossed, and— as an afterthought before everything would go down, Amelia would add:
“Aura, aura! Bubbleuspleasenow!“
And what would be, would be.
As a side note the coat protected well against electricity. Which might be good.
Sooooo yeah, that had gone about as well as her cowardly heart had expected.
Did she actually consider herself a coward? No.
Had she let three SWAT get, god forgive her, swatted? Yes.
Was that evil? Look. Sometimes in life, you have to make sacrifices. Do things you don’t want to do. For the greater good. Had she sacrificed those officers?
If it gets you to sleep more soundly at night, Amelia, No.
The officers had been adults, making adult decisions, in a very dangerous job. Now she, too, would be making adult decisions. In the very same, very real, type of danger.
Cue Simpsons gif, Ralph laughing. “I’m in danger!” Ugh.
She had needed to see what the person was capable of. Now, Amelia had seen it. Now, she could steeple her fingers and ponder the most sensible ways to exploit it. Definitely not saying Excellent while doing so. That was enough Simpsons references for one day, thank you. Although the skin-tight bodysuit the guy was wearing sure did bring back memories of Ned Flanders in skis. Wiggling.
Right. On task, brain. On task. What the hell had he said to her?
Her smile behind the clear plastic visor was visible to him, even in spite of the fact that the visor reflected light off one side of it, masking half her face. To rip off something she had most likely read somewhere, she smiled like a bared blade smiles. And she felt edge lord for even thinking that thought.
… and then she did an even more edge lord thing, and laughed at him. A witch’s cackle.
“Did you? Did you really? Because I think—“
Acting, she was acting. This was all an elaborate ruse. With strength and durability like his, she needed to play on the weaknesses of his mind. If he had those. And this was fucked up, even for her. More fucked up than the time she had pretended to be the mass murderer, Aura, to scare away some big strong men. This time, she pretended to be—
The man he had thought dead rose on near-invisible puppet strings.
To the seven foot tall monster, perhaps, the air a few feet above the person (whose name was Clayton Charles) might have shifted slightly, as if there were a slight heat haze, like what you see coming off hot concrete on a blazing summer day. And maybe there might have been minor disturbance in the air, from the literal strings looped around the dead man’s sleeves on his upper arms, strings that supported him. Strings connected to the near invisible “ghost hands” she imagined in that “heat haze” blur a couple feet above the dead man’s body. But then, maybe the man was wearing a big ass bulky helmet, and his visor, combined with poor lighting, or too much lighting, or too much going on, might have made him fail his perception check to notice any of that. The haze was pretty discrete, compared to what she could normally do. But regardless of whether he saw those tiny visual cues or not, she was doing it, all the same.
What was she doing? Well. She could manipulate clothing. He was wearing a long-sleeved prison uniform. It was winter, after all. It had been a bit of a strain, seeing as Amelia could only use her psychic constructs to lift about equal to what she physically could lift, herself. But, then, he had been on a prison diet and had seemed a sort of wiry man. The type she could probably lift, on her own. If she had to. She worked out.
The only thing of him her power could really touch was his clothes, but the dead man was fortunately wearing clothes. So she could try this macabre gambit out. And it was macabre. Had she not decided this was the most fucked up thing she had ever done?
Really. She could have made psychic platforms to gain elevation, and tried to “kite” him away from the scene. As if she were fleeing. And it would have looked a lot like that scene where Elsa jumps from ice pillar to ice pillar in that Disney movie, Frozen 2. Far cuter, far more simple and discrete. A pretty clever way to lead him astray and gave time. But, she needed time. Time for the button she had pressed on a communicator stuffed in one of her duster’s inside pockets to do its stuff. Hence, the macabre gambit you, the reader, so dutifully spent the last ten minutes reading about.
The corpse puppet shambled, with arms that were rag dolling dead weight. Feet shuffling, basically scraping the ground.
A bead of sweat rolled down the side of her cheek, but he would not be able to see that. Just as he would not have been able to the furious button pressing behind the upheld riot shield, that was shielding what she did from view. He would not see that she had holstered her gun, though he might note she had not trained it on him again. Since the whole thing with the SWAT swatting and all of that.
Amelia did not take a step back. The ruse had to come from a position of power, and any showing of weakness would most likely be sensed, if he were half the predator mind she thought he was.
“Oh look. He moves,” Amelia said, toothily. “Given time, he might even revive fully. Wonder if he’s some type of mutant. Mr. Big. Maybe you better go do something about that?” She nudged her chin towards dead-man.
Yuck, yuck. She was not sure what sick part of her had fogged over her mind and slipped in that “Mr. Big” comment right there. She chalked it up to big time nerves.
This was a stupid plan. A phenomenally stupid plan.
If he turned towards her to chase, she would drop control over the constructs and switch it to one glove. She would launch the shield at him with the glove, like a rocket punch. And then she would run like a rabbit. And try to lead him to the courtyard.
Amelia did not only lift weights, she ran too. She was good at running. Running was good.
One person can make all the difference. One person, at the right place. At the right time. SUPER had sent her. Perhaps, SUPER needed to have their heads examined.
What was going on again? The radio had given several messages, the rapid report several others. General consensus was “this concerns us.”
A prison. A break-in. Not out, but in. On Ryker’s island: okay, on Rykers?!
The guy, this guy. They weren’t fully sure how he had gotten in but there would be inquiries, investigations. He was in some sort of fancy body suit. A suit much like her own tricked out outfit.
She wore a large overcoat that was kinetic resistant, flame-resistant, and provided excellent body armor. She had also recently enchanted the Fed suit and slacks underneath it for war. Same enchantments. Same enhancements. Lastly, she had on her gloves. Amelia only had limited options for enchantments. They took time to make and time to upkeep. And she was wearing most of them. All she really needed was a helmet. But— helmets aren’t really clothes, or usable in many situations. So she settled for a riot helmet someone had given her: it came in black. Mostly matched the duster-like overcoat and fed suit. Mostly. No? Not really, but it gave that last ounce of protection she would need.
What else did she know about the situation? Guy in suit, explosion. Transport. Tower. Lot of guards down, hurt or other. The man was strong. Most likely a mutant, if the brief report was to be believed. She was skimming a paper copy and walking towards her own transport, an SUV to get her further onto the island. To the facilities. The helicopter had gotten her there, and it would take her the final stretch.
SWAT and police we on the scene. As she arrived and stepped down from the SUV, Her eyes skimmed the circus. Entire wings, evacuated or evacuating. A police helicopter in the sky, spotlight scouring the area. Some wings full of prisoners, free or not. Alone. What a mess. And here was she, one lone agent sent to deal with the mess.
Someone told her what cameras told them. Where he was, how to get there. Amelia grabbed a RIOT shield she was not fully trained in the usage of, and ran. Three SWAT officers backed her… from a distance.
Amelia arrived too late. Just as she saw the man in the suit drop someone. Dead.
Well, one of many today, Her mind considered, tired tone heavy.
The SWAT officers rushed into the room ahead of her, as she drew her sidearm. Shields up in one hand, gun in the other, all three opened fire. “Stop right there mutant!!” One officer shouted.
She lowered her hand gun and brought up her shield. Held off.
She was about 15 feet away from the trio, Just waiting to see how the whole thing went for them. 7 foot tall armored man had rampaged all over the facility. Probably didn’t fear small caliber fire all that much. What could she even do to him?
“Yeah, brands.” She agreed. Was he new to fashion? Just new. But then, many people weren’t familiar with “Expensive brands.” She elaborated.
Yeah, many people weren’t familiar with expensive things.
He looked at his shirt, as if contemplating something. Amelia pursed her lips thoughtfully.
“I think you’ll be okay,” she finally decided. “At the bare minimum, you stand out. You’re memorable. And that isn’t bad.”
Yep. Not bad. Not always.
As for his comment about peacocking. “I have no idea what peacocking is. You’ll have to enlighten me.” Amelia smiled. “And maybe escort me to the dance floor?”
She nodded to the middle of the club.
Once they were dancing, she made some basic conversation. “So. Tell me about yourself. For starters, how about what you do for fun? For living? Name. So I don’t keep calling you Hawaii in my head.”
She wasn’t calling him Hawaii in her head, but she could. Could be a fun nickname.
Maybe he knew about her topic of research, maybe not, maybe with the one drink and the buzz she could be off duty for a while. Let the other Amelia take over, so to speak. If they weren’t running things already.
Irresponsible, yes. But one cannot win them all.
As she spoke, she danced. Just moving her body, her arms, her hips. It was not slow dancing, and she was not up close like many other women in the club might have been. There was space between them. But she was still dancing.
Amelia ‘mmhmm’d at the shirt comment, pointedly. Then, She said some stuff. He said some stuff. And quite frankly, she got the worse end of the exchange. She was embarrassed. And her mouth, it had seemed to run on its own. Totally unlike her.
But then, new body, new face. New rules? Maybe!
The whole ‘never need an apology for the truth’ comment seemed like a disaster waiting to happen to her. And also, about as archaic as one could get. Who was this man? The deep voice and the almost chivalrous attitude seemed almost like someone had written his lines for him. Ditto for the “sage advice” question.
Amelia was silent a moment. Then, she pursed her lips. Thoughtfully.
“Advice.” She said. Laughed a little. “I don’t think you want my advice. A suit might look good though. In black.”
She politely did not shake his hand. Too many mutant can do horrible things to you if you touch them.
“I’m Amelia,” she smiled. “Nice to meet you. Yeah. Armani, I would say.” She added, eying him appraisingly. “Or Louis Vuittan. Would look nice.”
She had gotten over the fact she might not see the strange woman she had dated. The one she had liked, who had referred to herself as a mystic. Referred to others as a mystic. Weeks had passed. Over a month. No sign. If she had still been searching for the woman, this would have fallen under the umbrella of ‘crazy stalker.’ She wasn’t. This was business. Which made all the difference.
Magic was real. According to the woman she had dated who had referred to herself (and others) as mystics. Super had an interest in the validity of this statement. She was investigating, for them. For business. Not mixing business and pleasure at all, nope. Although at the last night club she had gone to, she HAD partaken of a beverage. Just the one. And it had even been non-alcoholic, on SUPER’s dime. Tea is non-alcoholic, right?
Haha. Yes, she understood what a Long Island iced tea was. That had just been a joke. She was not purely that dense. At least, not dense enough to charge it on SUPERs company card. No, that had purely been an Amelia thing. After all, she had reasoned, she was thirsty. And she had gone to several night clubs searching for mystical activity. It had grown boring dancing and probing for information.
They had gotten hints that some people displaying mystical abilities had been noted at various clubs. Or maybe it had been the same person? The person had held a sort of sway over people. They had obeyed their suggestions. It had even ended fights without a single punch. There had been several other rumors, too.
There were rumors of children having been abducted by people using magicks. Of random fires throughout the city. Of a murderous swordsman targeting mutants. That one had even been caught on camera exiting the bank after clashing with a vigilante in a helmet. And various other little things that spoke to her of greater paranormal activity throughout the city.
If she had delved deeper, she may have traced the start of these problems to some time around the harvest moon. But she had yet to connect those dots. What she had were rumors and wild stories, some of which had been less paranormal, and more mutation-oriented. But as previously stated, she was bored. Had grown bored. And she had not made a great amount of headway. What she needed was (another drink) a good lead. And—
“Well, aren’t you tall, muscular, and wildly underdressed.” Amelia stopped mid-stride on the sidewalk to stare at a man in a Hawaiian shirt.
Had she just said something like that out loud? Maybe the bartender had mixed the iced tea a bit more Long Island than she had thought. And also, weren’t women more her cup of tea? Welp. She supposed she was not wholly in her own faculties. Or else, she was not unable to appreciate a finely crafted person.
“I guess man, or woman. Statuesque is statuesque.” She mumbled.
Amelia covered her mouth and blushed. Yes. She had definitely announced that verbally. Also, yes. She was more appropriately dressed for clubbing than mister Hawaiian shirt. In a little red dress and everything. Really went with her little black bag and short, neck-length curtain of brown hair. And having recently become taller, she had opted to do something she had never managed before, due to the cruel reality of lack of height. She showed a good extra couple more inches of leg than ever before in her life. Still proper, of course. But Serena would have approved.
“I am so sorry,” Amelia apologized. “Won’t happen again.”
The meeting? Professional. Set up professionally. No mention of the problem, other than that there was something they needed to talk about. This seemed the situation one needed to hash out and see, firsthand.
She dressed in a grey pantsuit with a dark shirt underneath. Amelia had needed to get several outfits tailored. She had yet to imbue any extra clothes with enchantments.
Her fist rapped against the door to Sabine’s office, on time. Then, when she was invited in, she entered. A phrase from a Star Wars meme passed through her head as she took a calming breath and entered.
This is where the fun begins.
— Here’s the recap. She had been changed physically, as far as things were concerned. Amelia was taller (5’6”, up from 5’), curvier, with short, neck length brown hair and dark brown eyes.
A mystic. Someone calling themself a mystic. Had done this to her. She had helped. For some reason she had volunteered to help. It had been an utterly unique ritual she hardly remembered, as the ex calamari on point to an extremely good date. The person in question had ghosted her. Like, literally. Vanished, gone, no longer living in the place she had lived. She had moved out of a firmly established apartment living space within hours.
Despite looking, Amelia could not track down her person or her supposed friends. She’d mentioned others, she had to have them, they must have helped her. But... nothing. There should have been some evidence. But there was not.
This was the second time Amelia would get to come out to Sabine about something big. Yay! She would have to act brave about it wouldn’t she? Even though, in spite of probably needing to feel scared, not confident in her new looks, Amelia felt... confident. Strong. Powerful. She had taken a day to get used to the change and prepare herself, to get her act together and take control. So maybe she ought to have felt nervous to come forward about the whole thing? But honestly? Amelia felt as if it were a new opportunity. Turning a page. The hard sell would be getting Sabine to sign in on the same idea.
“That’s great, but—“ Nadia began. She finished with : “You should probably go.”
Hurt. Amelia was... hurt. “Huh?” She said. And staaaared at the other woman.
“Leave...” She said weakly. It looked like it pained her, too. “For both our sakes. Now?”
Like, right now? “But.”
“I could explain, but... that might not be the best idea. There are some things I can’t—“
“Was. Was the date bad? Did I... do something wrong?” Amelia asked.
“No. No. God no.” Nadia replied quickly. “Stop that sad puppy face. It’s adorable. Too much. But-“
“Then why are you kicking me out...?”
Nadia blew her hair out of her eyes and looked away with a sigh. “It’s just. Above both our heads. Not really my call... just.”
“Fine.” Amelia said tersely. “Not even a number?” She asked, after standing up, taking a few steps away, then looking back.
Nadia kept silent. Her hands clenched in her lap.
Amelia left.
—
A few hours later, she came back. She was not just going to let it end like that. Kind of stalker-ish, sure. But they were two consenting adults and she would leave if turned away. There had just been something strange about the whole thing.
She got there. The landlord was outside the apartment door. From what she could see, the whole apartment was now empty. As if by magic. Nadia was gone.
She asked about it. The landlord could not tell her much. Just that she had suddenly moved out, and when he had checked on her... the apartment had been left as-is.
Amelia thanked the landlord, and left the building. One word echoed in her mind. Mystics... she would learn more.
But first—
“SHIT!!!!”
She had to call Sabine. This whole face thing was going to be— something, that was for sure. Fuuuuuuuu—
“Magic is real, and you used it to change my face.”
“Shit,” Nadia said dully, without life.
“We,” Amelia corrected herself. “We used it. Together. Like a ritual, we two girls. Just us two. Two consenting adults.”
“Isn’t supposed to work that way,” Nadia grumbled. “You’re not supposed to— the others are going to kill me. The ritual... It’s just—“ She worried her lower lip. The other woman was cute, piecing it all together. Like some sort of detecting detective. But also , she was infuriating. And she was so dead.
Amelia continued, thoughtfully. “So what does that make you? Witch? Wicca? Druid? And what does that make me? I did it, too. The magic, and—“ Amelia covered her mouth as the realization hit her. “Does that make me a witch, too?! Oh, sweet Joss Whedon...”
Was she an unofficial magic user? Had this made her magic? Was there a coven? Ceremonies? Rites to go through, to make the unofficial official? Was there a special magic school she could go to? An entire magical world with socio-political, maybe even geo-political, issues, underlying her own? Magic Hitler, Douchebag lion, capital G god ram twins begging to be amused. A magic wardrobe, magic grandfather clock, magic buttons to hop between worlds? The possibilities were numerous. The possibilities were endless. And Nadia was talking right now, wasn’t she? While Amelia’s imagination foamed at the mouth. Let’s tune back in, shall we?
“—tants can’t. They just can’t. Dissonant energies. Magic and mutation. Gets in the way. Unless—“
“The ritual itself mingled life energies. You were the driver, it was the vehicle, and I gave you the gas,” Amelia played at connect-the-dots. “That might get around the—“
“— the bio-magical, bio-mutable, feedback loop.” Nadia finished weakly. She looked at Amelia with a bit of wonder, like how was she so smart? Wasn’t supposed to be, wasn’t allowed to be, that wasn’t in the script? “Life-energy harmonics and soul co-mingling are real advanced shit. How the fuck did you—?”
“It’s a good thing you’re hot,” Amelia told her. “Because you are such a nerd. I eat my Wheaties, girl.”
“You— you what?”
“Read a lot of fantasy, dingbat!” Amelia laughed and shook her head. “Thought we established that. I’m a nerd, too... got the idea for the enchanted duster. Half my damned power. From an urban fantasy series about a wizard for gods sake...” She continued on in a lecturing tone, index finger raised. “Life is magic, Padawan. From a baby’s laugh, all the way down.” Conspiratorially, she added. “In fact, I think there was an entire Pixar movie about that...” Under her breath.
“Uh...”
“It’s typical fantasy tropes. Not anything special. I’m not citing the deep magic or anything. Any idiot can donate blood. Or sacrifice themselves to protect a loved one. Giving energy has to be the same, I figure. We just stumbled into it like me playing Skyrim and pressing a random selection to tell a wizard to swallow a soul gem, and that’ll solve their complex, convoluted conundrum. It’s just—“
Nadia put a finger over Amelia’s lips, and shushed her quietly.
“I said, what exactly?” Amelia said. And then tried a leeeetle misdirection to shift away from whatever had caused Nadia to act cagey. “Also.” She said. “My clothes. Don’t really fit all that much, do they?” She pulled at her shirt, which was... tighter, in several key areas. And showed some belly.
She supposed that made sense. If her height had changed, and she’d grown assets. An entire new wardrobe would have to go with this. Ffff. Expensive.
Her attempt at distracting Nadia from the faux pas, whatever it was she had done, flopped. Nadia actually looked a little nervous. And as they continued talking, the woman grew more and more distressed.
“Guess I’ll have to get some new clothes. Replace some things. And—“
“Enchant them?” Nadia said, voice terse.
“Huh?”
“When we first met. You said you had enchanted your coat. To be bulletproof. And when I was interested, you showed me.” Nadia met her eyes. “So, I thought.” She raised one hand, and did a little flicking gesture. ”Metation?”
Amelia repeated the word, curious.
“Warding and altering magic that can “charm” or even "hex" a space, person, or object that alters it without changing its essential nature.” Nadia rattled off the description of the spell ability, all scientific-like, then arched an eyebrow at her and repeated. “Again, metation.”
“Nonono. Mutation.” Amelia held up both hands. “The word you are looking for. Is mutation.”
Nadia swore. “The other mystics are going to love this...”
>> Oh… well… looks like you get to have a fun conversation with her then. I’ll be sure to wait till that blows over before I talk to her. Young me made a pass at her I think and well, figured it be best to avoid her for a bit.”
He kept talking, and— Amelia laughed. About all of it. What he’d said, the hitting on Serena part. Oh you sweet summer child. And him getting beaten in a fight.
She could probably beat him. If she were clever about it. She didn’t say that, though.
What was she going to do about it? Amelia laughed again.
“I... will let you know. Probably after I do. Talk to her probably. Once I set some things right.”
Hm.
“Well! Thank you for coming here. Can I hold onto the jacket for a few days? I want to run a few experiments.” And once he had left she could start working on setting some things right. Because she had loads to do.
Yup. She had made the right call. Super awkward, very dangerous, reputation tarnished (possibly forever). But, yes. They needed to be open about these things. And she had promised she would seek help regarding the whole psychic... mind meld... thing.
Sabine said she could still be liaison? She’d have to speak with Rebecca about that. Or Mirror. Or Sam. Whoever it was who truly ran things. Perhaps all of them, at once? Yeah. That sounded about right. Gotta get things out in the light of day. Once she’d gone through probation, or possibly sooner. She nodded at Sabines statement. Working as normal. So, soonest. She’d get the paperwork in order.
X-men // SUPER liaison. Her. She’d just be working with a partner. Still. Felt, dare she say, good? So long as she did not presume too much. There were hoops to go through, goals to meet, loyalties to prove. But she’d be proving them for herself, and not pretending to be some ghost.
In the back of her mind, a thought shifted. Stirred. A ghost. You? OooOoooo. Heh. Possessive, much? Had she thought that? Seemed a bad time for levity. Super serious. But... heh. Ooooooo.
She took Sabines hand. “This is going to be... interesting. Thank you for everything, miss Sang.”
!) summoned a pink drill construct and set it to spin in the air in front of her right fist. For good measure.