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.
Watching the girl fold her batlike wings as she rose from the couch Simon was able to get his first clear look at his fellow resident. He’d already noted her rust red hair and the argent colouring of her wings which seemingly extended to the rest of her skin. What he hadn’t caught though were the slight horns which grew from her temples, only a few inches in length but still enough to keep the ingenues copper locks from hiding her agreeable features.
The horns were far from the girls only defining feature however; clad only as she was in a pair of shorts and a tank top, the hessian could clearly make out the overlapping cobalt scales which covered her shins, forearms and what looked to be most of her shoulders. The seemingly metallic plates were each no larger than a quarter and didn’t quite shine in the light available but they still provided a marked contrast to her otherwise ashen skin.
Perhaps the most noticeable, or rather, unusual trait was the girl tail; idly curling back and forth the spade tipped appendage was as thick as her arm and slightly taller than she was. However, given that she barely managed to reach the elementals shoulders that wasn’t saying much.
In fact, staring down to meet the redheads gaze, Simon could almost see himself mistaking her for a child if not for the fact that, when he looked slightly further down, he found himself treated to a view that, well… suffice to say she gave Isabel competition.
"I'm Gina, Nice to meet you."
Realizing his glance had possibly lingered just slightly longer than was appropriate Simon gave a short chuckle and took the offered hand after only a moment's hesitation; the girl had talons yes, but that didn’t mean she was going to maim him, and if she did well, he’d dealt with worse.
”..Gina, a pleasure. Apologies for staring, I’ve not see someone with quite your figure in person before.” He applied some slight pressure to the handshake to make up for his earlier hesitation before releasing his grip and accepting the redheads offer to take a seat. “If you don’t mind my asking are your wings decorative or are you able to fly?”
His words carried a slight undertone of pleasant surprise as he spoke, thus far Gina was proving to be amiable and polite, a refreshing change from both Duskmoor whose mental maturity rarely matched her figure, and Jude who had yet to discover there was more to a conversation than sarcasm and sulking.
"I live on the fourth floor, are you a resident, too?"
“I’m not sure resident is the appropriate term, ‘debtor’ seems more apt, I swear I saw something about first borns in the lease.” He commented dryly, in all honesty the prices weren’t terrible but they were still in NYC. “To answer your question though I moved into the third floor just recently but I’ve been out and about quite a bit and haven’t had much chance to meet my.. ‘neighbours’ as it were, do you know many of the other tenants? .”
Cafas: "Zephyr is the king of bad decisions, but if Sebby being weak to ghost is anything to go by, not so amazing at follow through."
Resting his now throbbing head against the new dent in the drywall as the wind outside died down Simon kept eyes wrenched shut. If he couldn’t see the mark he’d left that would make it hurt less, and if it wasn’t working he just wasn’t trying hard enough. The fact that it was pitch black just meant it should be even more effective.
‘Ow’
Struggling to ignore the pulsing pain behind his brow Simon marshaled his thoughts. Why the hell had he thought that was a good idea? He’d spent the last few hours drinking himself into a stupor just so he could avoid a headache. Slamming his skull into the nearest wall was like trying to put out a fire by dousing yourself in gasoline.
Grumbling inaudibly at his ill thought actions the elemental didn’t notice Isabel’s hand until it cupped his cheek, causing him to start and then immediately winced as his head protested the movement while the soubrette what? Chided? Pouted? Encouraged? He didn’t even know what to call it but he wasn’t sure he liked it. Where had he put his words?
‘“Eventually” Riiiight’ He drew the word out with as much skepticism as his inebriated mind could muster. Like she could actually, wait- blinking as his thoughts latched onto the word Simon slowly pulled his head back to regard Duskmoor, ‘Doesn’t that mean you like- ’
"Your dumb face would look so much dumber if it was broken."
And now she was back to being rude, and giggling. The laughing was not good. It made her shake and because he was leaning on her it made him shake and his head very much wanted to not be moving.
His arms moved almost on reflex, one hand tracing against her side until it gripped her hip while the other aimed for her shoulder in an effort to keep her still. If anything though this only made her giggling worse, leaving her out of breath as she struggled to form words.
This wasn’t working, and it wasn’t making his aching skull any better. She was laughing too much to listen and he could barely make out what she was saying. He needed to try something else.
"...smoosh face!"
So he did, and as his lips met hers he tried to remember if she’d always tasted like grapes.
Cafas: "Zephyr is the king of bad decisions, but if Sebby being weak to ghost is anything to go by, not so amazing at follow through."
Posted by Zephyr on May 16, 2017 21:19:02 GMT -6
Sennyo likes this
The Syndicate
Captain of The Syndicate
[b]Bold[/b]
Straight
TBD
863
18
May 26, 2023 22:14:20 GMT -6
Zephyr
Stepping back to consider his new new abode Simon reflected that there were many words one could use to describe the co-op housing project. If one were feeling generous they would likely paint the place as quaint, convenient, contemporary, rustic, minimalist perhaps even intimate given the other tenants. Should one feel rather less charitable however they would not be remiss to characterize the building as cramped, crowded, old fashioned, rowdy and overpriced.
Still the positives had outweighed the negatives and he had purchased a room. He’d needed it in all honesty, ever since the rather abrupt...demolition, of his primary apartment he’d been hunting for new lodging. While the co-op was admittedly something of a step down from previous quarters it would suffice until he received the rest of his insurance proceeds and could provide a paper trail to purchase something more fitting.
The fact that his sister had started leaving poorly forged love letters from Isabel lying around his room in Sanctuary had not galvanized his actions in any way.
At all.
Honestly he didn’t know which was worse, the idea that Maya believed she could impersonate a remorseless homicidal pin up girl killer well enough to fool him or the thought that she was leaving similar notes for Isabel to find.
...on second thought this place really didn’t seem so bad. Close to downtown, less than half the price of Manhattan and all the advantages that came with mutant neighbours without the known implied illicit activities. Though with that being said he hadn’t spent much, if any time with the other residents, partly due to his recent arrival but also because most of them seemed younger than he was, not excessively so, but enough to mark a contrast, especially given that they looked to be college age and as such likely had yet to deal with the real word in any measurable manner.
Shaking his head Simon closed the closest containing the few possessions he’d found necessary and began to wander down to the basement where the evening meal would later be served. Avoiding the other tenants was neither practical nor helpful, if only because he should have some idea of who actually belonged in the building and vice versa.
Should he actually manage to find someone amiable and intelligent, well, that would just be a vain hope happy bonus.
Somewhat unsurprisingly he was not the only one who’d descended to the cellar ahead of the dinner bell. One of the few couches tucked into the tight space was occupied by what, at first glance, appeared to be oddly folded blue/grey canvas which quickly resolved into a pair of batlike wings folded across the back of a young woman with curling russet hair laying atop the cushions, intently focused on a sketch pad in her hand.
Well, he might as well start here. Adopting an amiable countenance he quietly cleared his throat and strolled to the seating area at the back of the room before adopting his best British brogue. “Pardon me miss I don’t believe we’ve met, my name is Simon, do you mind if I join you…?” He trailed waiting for her name.
Cafas: "Zephyr is the king of bad decisions, but if Sebby being weak to ghost is anything to go by, not so amazing at follow through."
Given that his last abode suffered a somewhat untimely end and he has essentially been squatting at Sanctuary I think Zephyr would benefit from moving in somewhere else. As the fourth floor seems to be taken you put Zephyr on the 3rd floor, I don't particularly have a preference on the room at present.
Cafas: "Zephyr is the king of bad decisions, but if Sebby being weak to ghost is anything to go by, not so amazing at follow through."
That… didn’t really answer anything. Then again, perhaps it was for the best. He wasn’t sure his mind was quite ready to try and interpret whatever mental gymnastics had led Isabel to arrive at her chosen sobriquet for his sister. Judging from her lack of care the soubrette likely didn’t even remember how the name came about though the fact she didn’t find it odd enough to change said something, what precisely he wasn’t sure, but that was a matter better left for a more sober mindset.
“But not weird enough for you to change the name?”
That didn’t mean he couldn’t ask now though, or that he even needed to remember the answer. It was just oddly compelling, the social equivalent of a slow motion trainwreck.
Fascinating as Duskmoors thought process was (and wasn’t that a perplexing notion in and of itself?) the gamine herself was rather more focused on his earlier offer and had patience for little else as she hurriedly urged him into the closet with her.
Unfortunately, gravity was a fickle mistress or, to utilize the more colloquial parlance, an utter bitch, who was more than ready to kick one when they were down, and even when they weren’t. Thankfully though the closet was only a few feet deep at most and before he really knew what was happening Simon found himself with one arm braced against the back wall, his free hand finding purchase in something warm and soft, as the rest of him fell against the soubrette, with his face close enough to hers that he could hear the light gasp she made at the contact and the panting breaths that followed.
Why did this seem so familiar?
Almost without thinking he turned his face to meet hers-
"Those are mine. Rude!"
And stopped, the breathless protest taking a moment to work its way through his thoughts; what was hers? Was she talking about the clothes? “If you didn’t want them stepped on you shouldn’t have left on the floor” He grumbled as he used her own hand to help push himself back and balance on his feet, at which point he realized precisely what his other hand had grabbed hold of as it rose and fell in time with Isabel’s breaths.
Huh, had they been that heavy-
"There's no dust in there!
Blinking in the darkness he tilted his head to the side, was he hearing things or had she just squeaked? Her voice got high enough that he couldn’t quite tell, before he could take that thought much further though another one rose from the fog in his mind “How can you tell? Isn’t it too dark to see?”
Stop being so clumsydrunk and go do the dusty thing where it's actually dusty!"[/b]
Yes, there it was again, either a squeak or a hiccup, but it was second now to the flustered note which had crept into her words. Still, he took the moment to reach out behind him and pull the closet door closed, only struggling for a brief moment in getting it over the pile of clothes that had been left in the way, before it slipped into its frame with a dull click that gave him yet another sense of deja vu as he found himself pressed flush against Isabel once again so that they were almost nose to nose.
“You can’t step back anymore can you?” No stupid question he could feel the size of the room and she was already up against the back wall.
...dusting, he was meant to be dusting. A gradually growing gust began to circulate outside the closet as he tried to focus on anything except the fact that he was all but hugging Duskmoor, which wasn’t helped by the fact that she was pleasantly warm and soft- this wasn’t working.
Tilting his head to the right, he focused for a moment on the patch of wall just over her left shoulder and then swung his head into it.
That worked.
((OOC: apologies for the belated reply. As you can likely tell I’ve gotten rusty again so if you want anything changed let me know.))
Cafas: "Zephyr is the king of bad decisions, but if Sebby being weak to ghost is anything to go by, not so amazing at follow through."
"Ghosty. But I think she got put in my phone as sistyfriend5eva or something like that."
He blinked. That was... It didn’t... Why would- No. No. He knew the path of madness when he saw it and even his drowned sanity wanted nothing to do with it. He’d take the high road and just not say,
“Dare I ask why?”
Intoxication, meet low impulse control, you’ll be the best of friends.
He could drink to that.
He did.
"I don't remember agreeing to be your companion. More like mutual inconveniences."
Tilting his head in bemusement Simon gently swirled the remnants of the vodka in his hand. She was precisely wrong; the pair of them generally got along like a house on fire, one still full of women and children. While things had calmed somewhat since their last… escapade, they weren’t precisely amicable.
Hmm, now that he thought about it, this was probably the most civil they’d ever been to each other. It had only taken what? Half a winery, maybe more? And here he thought alcohol was meant to fray ones rapports.
“Oh? Is that the term these days? I suppose I should count myself fortunate indeed. A mere inconvenience to the mighty Miss Duskmoor.”
"Yes, do the dusty thing,"
At least his offer for cleaning met with approval, though the decision to move to the closet was unexpected. When had he last hidden a closet? That was what they were doing wasn’t it? Had he hidden in a closet before? He wasn’t sure, not that he couldn’t do it. You just walked in and shut the door. Simple.
He measure the space from his spot by the wall to the door across the room, then finished the vodka. Perhaps if he kept drinking he’d push past inebriety and start back at sober, that was generally how these things went wasn’t it?
A tangle of, shirts? Shorts? Something. Something flew over the bed to land by his feet as Isabel, having already navigated the treacherous path of the floor, had made it to the aforementioned closet and seemed determine to empty the entire contents across the room.
At least she hadn’t hit him yet.
Staggering away from the wall and crossing towards the bed as Duskmoor groped through the closet Simon made an immediate beeline back towards the bed. To the untrained eye, assuming one could see, it may have appeared that he was moment away from toppling when he reclaimed his previous seat, but in reality he was merely taking a leisurely pause as he chose his next drink from the basket his buxom companion had thoughtless abandoned.
"Alrighty, let's go,”
Libation in hand the hessian switched his attention back to Isabel, who seemed to have finally cleared the closet and was now gesturing quite energetically with one hand, almost as if she wanted to clap-
“Chop, chop, make with the dusting!"
Rolling his eyes in the darkness Simon pushed off from the bed, bracing one hand against the doorframe as he resisted the urge to give a bow; there was wasn't much point if she couldn’t see it, instead adopting a desert dry tone. “As you wish M’lady, though if you’d take a mite step back it would help safeguard thy vanity. ”
Ah, high school drama courses; you prove you lack of worth in new and unimagined ways every time, truly you were little more than an excuse for unappreciative adolescents to butcher Shakespeare and make a further mockery of British culture.
When Isabel didn’t make any immediate move to give him room he let out a sigh of his own and debating carrying through on his earlier threat to launch a cork in the gamines direction. As bad as the English education system might be, it was at least better than the bloody colonies. “I can’t shut the door if you don’t make room.”
That apparently got through to her and the brunette managed to shuffled backwards slightly enough to let Simon step in after her, or he would have, had a certain someone not dumped a pile of clothes right inside the door.
With both momentum and coordination acting against him a startled curse left his lips as he found himself falling into the closet after Isabel.
Cafas: "Zephyr is the king of bad decisions, but if Sebby being weak to ghost is anything to go by, not so amazing at follow through."
Was she being redundant on purpose or was she just playing? He gave a mental shrug, little matter really; in for a penny and all that. “True enough, I suppose I’ll just have to hide behind yours, oh wait.” He wasn’t smirking no, not at all. And no one could prove otherwise.
And as far as his sister hearing- wait, “Ghosty?” Had Isabel just given his sister a nickname? Of her nickname? He opened his mouth, closed it and then opened it again to take a drink. On the one hand it made sense and rather fit his snow haired sister, on the other hand she was responsible for that one night debac- and now he was thinking about it again, just peachy.
“There is no fairness in this world.” The bemoaned comment was directed more towards the ceiling than anything.
Switching drinks with Isabel, Simon took a tentative sip of the vodka and managed to only wince as it burned down it’s throat. The stuff was just a potent and tasteless as he remembered, Little wonder Russians were so belligerent really.
"Isn't offending me like one of your favorite things to do?"
Coughing slightly to clear his throat from the vodkas passage he used the sound to adopt a posh, holier than thou inflection. “I believe the common parlance is ‘teasing’, its rather the thing among one’s companions.” His voice fell back to a more casual tone, “and don’t pretend you don’t give as well as you get. If, what's the term? ‘Sass’ was a mutation, you’d have it.”
"Showering in the dark sounds difficult,"
He shrugged, the gesture again going unnoticed. “It’s not that different from washing your face, you’d feel the water and know where your body is in relation, you’d just be a little slower and it’s not as if we’re short on time.
Toeing a pile of nearby clothes that had avoided the duvet he tried to determine if the top item was a shirt or a pillowcase with little success. “Honestly a warm shower sounds rather tempting right now.” Basements were not known for their ability to retain heat, nor were wet, slowly drying shirts.
Turning his attention to the items Isabel had dumped on the bed Simon neatly whisked one of the top articles away before Isabel could notice, flicking it through the air once or twice to find out it was… an apron? Why on earth was there an apron in a closet?
“And are we supposed to just stay here until the power's back? Cuz it's dark and dusty and I don't think I like that.”
Blinking as he turned his attention back to the soubrette the elemental considered the question for a moment as his senses swept through the room. The dust was rather noticeable now, what with the duvet having been tossed onto the floor, but it was beginning to settle again, still didn’t change the fact they’d likely have a fine layer of the stuff before they left unless…
“Power could come back in minute or one hour, no way to tell. As for the dust, getting rid of it isn’t hard,” he claimed, rocking onto his feet again with only a few stumbled steps. He’d been aiming for that wall, it hadn’t jumped up on him and anyone who suggested otherwise was a degenerate liar. “But I’m not sure we want to be in here when I do it.”
Blowing dust out of a room while drunk? Simplicity itself. Doing so without covering both of them from head to toe, well that was a horse of a different colour.
He took another drink, this time enjoying the burn as it made its way down. The cold was starting to getting annoying.
“Bathroom or closet?”
And what did it say that he didn’t find asking such a question odd in the slightest?
Watching the mural of Maya’s face switch from surprise to indignant and then childish petulance when she stuck her tongue was rather more entertaining than he’d expected it to be. Was this what he’d missed out on by not knowing his sister for the last, what? Almost three decades? Really it was just another item added to the list of his deprived childhood. At least he could start to make for lost time, unlike other things-
...did you do that from memory? That's pretty good."
“Hmm?” Roused from his musings Simon shook his head as he tried to catch Ghosts words. “Oh, yes… it took me a little while, but the design fairly basic, the hardest was determine how to get the circle to work with the main figure.” It had honestly taken longer than he wanted to admit to figure out how to get the overlapping parts to work, but if his sister hadn’t seemed to notice that he wasn’t going to point it out.
"You really want me to fix this?"
Tilting his head slightly at the question, a confused frown danced across Simons face, “I rather thought that was the point of the exercise…” He paused then and took in the way Maya was holding the the remnants of the towel in front of her, gingerly as though it were made of rice paper, her head tilted down towards it out of habit as she focused on it, even though they both knew she didn’t use her eyes any more.
Sisters truly could be odd creatures.
“Though I suppose, if you want to keep it… What else did he have that they could practice with? He didn’t exactly have a plethora of possessions on hand, being homeless and all, though given that was Isabel’s fault he supposed he could simply use something of hers. Actually come to think of it didn’t he.. yes, yes he did.
I’d be willing to let you have it, though you’d owe me a new tea towel. If you want something else to work with we can try this. Holding out his hand, Simon focused briefly on the book he knew was resting on the top of the fridge and which promptly proceed to flip onto its edge and and the float into his waiting palm.
“Grimms fairy tales, I think we’ll start with just the cover for now as asking you to put actual print pages together may be a bit much, and I haven’t finished reading it yet.”
Cafas: "Zephyr is the king of bad decisions, but if Sebby being weak to ghost is anything to go by, not so amazing at follow through."
Turning his head to stare at Isabel in the darkness Simon felt no need to mask the bemused tone in his voice. “I may be a tad tipsy,” he admitted easily enough “but I can tell up from down, I just can’t always get from one to the other.”
“That aside though, how precisely would you be able to tell if we were going the wrong way? Last I checked you hadn’t reinforced the walls this far down,” largely because she hadn’t misbehaved enough to warranted him giving it as punishment duty. “I’m genuinely curious,”
The room they entered was, as best he could tell, fairly spartan; bed closet and another door which led to a bathroom whose shower lacked a curtain. There were a few odds ends on the floor which could have been anything from clothes to over sized dust bunny’s but all in all it gave the air of place that had been forgotten, which only made sense given these levels hadn’t seen real use since the time of camps.
As for why that was well…
Feeling his arm being lifted from Isabel neck Simons attention switched back to buxom brunette as she carefully returned his limb and even took a moment to steady him. In the handful of moments it took his hazed mind to process what she done the girl had already headed off in search of the aforementioned closet.
Huh, had Duskmoor just done something that could be called ‘nice’?
Shaking his head the elemental opted to take another drink rather than try and grasp the implications of the girls odd behaviour. Easier that way, they were both drinking, odd behaviour was to be expected, yes that made sense.
Wandering over to take a seat on the bed, and coincidentally be within arms reach of the basket Isabel had left on the left, Simon briefly ran a hand over the top of the covers and gave a slight sigh when he felt the familiar grainy texture of dust; he’d expected it but still would have liked to be surprised. Still the closet cloths should at least be clean-
A wad of cloth hit the floor and was soon joined by others as Isabel began to root through the closet heedless of the small dust clouds she was raising.
Well, if that was how they were going to do things…
Getting a good grasp on the duvet Simon heaved the cover aside and onto the floor before taking a seat on the newly revealed, and dust free sheets, or he would have, had Duskmoor not dumped a handful of garments where he planned to sit. Instead he chose to stand aside and enjoy another sip of the merlot as his drinking partner picked the vodka and found it to be less than to her taste, if the shudder she gave was any indication.
When she question him on where they were going next Simon could,’t help but give an amused hum when he answered. “Hmm? Are you sure you want me leading? I might take us in the wrong direction you know.”
“...even though spending time with your jerk face in the dark is just a ton of fun, I still think stairs is the best thing to be finding."
“Well look at it this way Isabel, since we’re in the dark you can get a wonderful of view of good side.” he told her dryly as he shuffled over to the closet to see what she’d left. “On another note you may want to be careful about over using the jerk line; if my sister hears it too often she’ll think it’s a sign of affection.”
Watching Isabel shiver as she took yet another sip of the Vodka Simon sighed and made his way over to her, being sure to make his steps audible regardless of the dust they might cause. “Here take this,” He placed the merlot in her free hand. “If you’re going to drink something it should at least be something that doesn’t offend you. A red wine will be smoother and it’s even meant to be taken at room temperature.”
Taking a seat on an empty part of the mattress Simon considered their situation again as he waited for Isabel make up her mind about the drink. “As for what we do next, well the back up generators are on this level, so if we don’t have power neither does Sanctuary, so little point going up stairs. That said, water lines tend to run separately from the power grid, so running water shouldn’t be a problem, it’s more a question of whether the shower here is still connected.”[/b]
Cafas: "Zephyr is the king of bad decisions, but if Sebby being weak to ghost is anything to go by, not so amazing at follow through."
Delivering Duskomoor a dry stare over her oh so sympathetic words at his tragic plight, Simon gave an exasperated huff when he again realized she couldn’t see. “Well I’ll do what I can to pass the lesson along, what are friends for after all?”
Wandering down with the hallway with Isabel as a crutch was an… odd way to travel. He had a slight height advantage over the soubrette by simple dint of the fact that he still had shoes, but their strides were roughly the same so keeping pace wasn’t hard, as long as he kept one foot in front of the other, and even when he didn’t Duskmoor simply seemed to shrug her shoulders and he was back on track.
A quiet, almost murmuring part of him said he should be annoyed by that but he couldn't quite figure out why so he ignored it.
The other odd thing about walking with Isabel like this was that he felt like a scarecrow with slanted shoulders. Even with his slight height advantage having his up around her neck meant that he was slightly off kilter, it also pulled him close enough to her side that he could feel the damp cloth of her tank top seeping through his own shirt, and he couldn’t precisely pull away since she had one hand clamped down on his wrist at the hollow of her neck as though she thought it would get lost somewhere.
On the other hand she was warm and he had just lost a jacket, so perhaps it was best not to complain?
As they rounded the corner he’d pointed out the hessian felt their pace slow almost to a crawl as Isabel crept towards fire extinguisher and patting her hand along the wall until she found it. On asking why they needed Simon shrugged himself, settling a little more comfortable over the girls shoulder before he answered “No, I just didn’t want you to hit it. Not much of a guide if I run you into walls, assuming I don’t want you to go through them that is.”
In thanks for the care he had taken Isabel passed the basket of drinks with a little less care then he would have liked for someone who couldn’t currently see. That said he still had one hand free and managed to grab the edge of the basket, slowing it down so it stopped at his stomach instead of ramming it.
Just one of the many benefits of spatial awareness, which included but not limited to trying to identify a bottle by it’s shape and size. Hmm, the taller thinner one was likely a vodka, the wider pronounced shoulders were for a bordereaux, so usually a red, then the in between could be a white. “Is there anything you’d like?” The question was posed more out of habit than anything else, old school manners ground into him from a young age by father and teachers both and which had a habit of rising to the surface when he was distracted.
After choosing a bottle and letting Isabel take the basket back they began moving on once more, they bare made it a few steps down the new corridor though before she questioned their direction, leaving Simon to shake his head as he carefully took a sip from his liberated libation.
“Have a little faith Isabel, this place is like a warren I’ll admit but we’ve only been going a few minutes, it probably feels longer because we haven’t been walking in the straightest of lines.”
“Should we find stairs first?”
“We could, or we could go another ten feet and try the room on the right that has a bed and closet, it’s a little picked over but it’ll will be dryer than what you have now.”
Cafas: "Zephyr is the king of bad decisions, but if Sebby being weak to ghost is anything to go by, not so amazing at follow through."
Shifting his weight to brace himself with one arm the fallen hessian tentatively continued to explore his side, applying as little pressure as possible as he sought the source of the puddle that was steadily spreading across the floor.
He found it quickly enough, fingers lightly testing the edge of the opening before reaching the cracked remains of a bottle of port in his jacket pocket. The fall having split it along the base and up the side, turning what had promised to be a delightful drink into little more than growing stain across his clothes and the floor
Cleaning was it was going to be a nightmare.
Still that was a problem that could be dealt with another day. More pressingly he was wearing a drenched jacket that was doing it’s best to soak the rest of him, How did such a small bottle hold so much liquor? And did he mention it was cold? Giving a sullen sigh over the the entire situation Simon shook his head and started shrugging one arm out of the wet jacket as best he could with-
"What did you break?"
He blinked, and when nothing changed he did it again before realizing why it wasn’t before lifting his head out of habit to confirm what his senses were telling him. When had Isabel gotten that close? For a moment he thought she was going to trip over him but she caught herself with one hand so she was only leaning over him instead of...
Huh, that shirt really didn’t provide much support.
None really.
Someone was, no, Isabel was talking. Shaking his head to try and clear his thoughts the hessian instead found the room began to spin slightly and he reflexively brought his free hand to his face to try and make the world stand still, which annoyingly, only served to make his face as wet as his hand as he quickly took the limb away again.
Wait, Isabel had asked a question hadn’t she? Something about breaking?
“Nothing hurt but my pride.” He told her as he collected his wits. “Wasted a good drink though.”. Shrugging out of the rest of his jacket he balled up the cloth and tossed it back towards the center of the room. He’d pick it up later, when he was sober, and could see. Not to mention walk straight.
Carrying a pocket full of glass just wasn’t a good idea.
Speaking of walking though, he should probably get on his feet again. Simple enough in theory but with Isabel leaning over him and uh, was she swaying slightly? No, no , focus. He had to stand up and if she wasn’t going to move well, “Give me a hand up?” He tried to catch her hand but missed and instead quickly settled for bumbing his arm into hers and guiding it down until he found her wrist, at which they clasped hands and the girl hauled him up with rather less effort than he was comfortable with, granted he was light, but still.
Carefully not shaking his head Simon tried to focus on keeping hold of Isabel as he waited for the sense vertigo to fade, a task which wasn’t made easier when she crouched down again to pick up the basket. Still he managed to keep his balance and once they were both upright he began leading the soubrette by the hand as he [staggered[/s] walked down the hallway.
That lasted all of perhaps 30 seconds before he abruptly found himself dragged backwards as Isabel yanked his arm up and around her neck so they were shoulder to shoulder and she was effectively acting as a crutch for him as she proceeded to set a more stable, if not faster, pace down the corridors.
Then again, speed generally wasn’t the best of ideas when one was in less than full command of their motor skills. So perhaps it was for the best. That said he still had a job to do.
“Another three steps then make a right, there’s a fire extinguisher on the right wall.”
That was an... interesting little smirk dancing across Mayas features; he wasn’t use to seeing her smug but, as he handed over the roughly re-sewn towel he supposed it made sense, even if she’d never truly spent any time in the country she was half British and given what he knew of his father well, suffice to say smug certainly ran in the family.
Truly she was his sister.
The following conversation was brief but productive as Ghost proved herself more than eager to try and take the proposed lesson to task. While her enthusiasm was encouraging Simon couldn’t help but feel she was getting ahead of herself. After all it was generally harder to undo an action caused by another and she seemed to have enough trouble just keep track of herself.
Still, before he could voice any objections Maya had constructed a shell of silence, how long ago had it been since he taught her that? And he sensed her influence retreat from the surrounding air as she effectively blinded herself in the same a way a child would for a game of hide and seek.
Hmm, he supposed this was a game of sorts, yes why not? If nothing else it would keep him entertained. Still, how best to go about it? It would have to be a silhouette but how to differentiate the character from the symbol?
Taking the cloth and raising it one hand Simon stared at it intently as he raised a single ethereal finger and slowly began to cut out the image in his mind, working in silence for a number of minutes before finally coming to a stop and examining his handiwork with a smirk of his own.
Yes, that would do nicely, now how to get her attention? He was still behind on his teasing quota...
The balled up towel hit Ghost right between the eyes.
Hearing the crunching of glass as Isabel got to her own feet with rather less stumbling than he had Simon merely rolled his eyes at her quip, leaning a shoulder against a wine rack as he waited for his inner ear to cease spinning. “It’s not really my feet that are issue; they’re well acquainted with the floor already.” He replied absently as he watched her weave slightly on her way to his wine rack. “I’m more concerned that the rest of me wants to make introductions.”
Honestly, part of him wanted to just sit down and go back to drinking; it was somewhat easier than trying to stand, on the other hand he had been in the equivalent of a cell for at least the past hour or two, even if it was a finely furnished cell; he wanted to stretch his legs and if he couldn’t do that midnight, or whatever godforsaken hour this was, when the power was out, a storm raged overhead and with only a mass murderer for company, when would he do it?
He nodded to himself, yes, that made perfect sense.
Just as long as he didn’t think about it.
"You sure you know your way around this place in the dark? I've been here a lot longer than you and even I can't remember where everything is down here."
Blinking for a moment at the question Simon simply shrugged, then remembered Duskmoor couldn’t actually see him. “It’s less a question of memory than it is senses.” He explained as she cautiously crept closer. “I can make my way in the dark about as well as I can in the light, the hallways are full of air after-.” Pausing as he felt something poke his side he realized it was Isabel’s hand, when had she gotten that close? And what was she? Ah, she getting drinks for the road ahead, not a bad idea honestly but he doubted she was overly fond of scotch, that was more an acquired taste.
Trying to catch her wrist and failing, he ended up guiding her arm with the back of his hand to a rack a few rows above. “Try these, I think they held the better stock, reds should be this row, whites were one below and I think vodka just above, not sure what you prefer but if you make a basket we could try a drop of all of them.”
After gathering their much needed supplies Simon quickly found himself managing something between a walk and a fall as Isabel all but dragged him towards the door, only to come up short when she instead met a wall, leaving him little option but to become briefly acquainted with her back before bouncing off and falling to the floor like a discarded marionette accompanied by the muffled sound of a crack and a dull ache.
When the world at last stopped tumbling the hessian carefully felt down his side with one hand, momentary confusion colouring his features when it came away wet before understanding settled and he carefully raised his head towards Duskmoor and spoke in a tone of pained despair. “I think I… broke something.”
It was like something out of a cartoon; lightning cracked, the lights died and almost instantly he felt Isabel begin to flail as she abandoned any pretense of protecting her modesty in favour of staying upright, knocking their half full bottle to the floor and upending her glass over herself as she latched onto the larger barrel between them.
Simon open his mouth-
“Shut up.”
-only to pause, and then close it with a slight sigh as he reached for the remains of his own drink, deftly plucking it from the thoroughly soaked barrel top and away from any further flailing arms. The darkness didn’t do much to inconvenience him, when you feel the surrounding air as well as what displaced it actual sight was more of a benefit than a necessity. Granted, he’d come down here with the expressed purpose muffling his spatial awareness but that simply made things blurry rather than pitch black.
Regardless though he doubted Isabel would appreciate the distinction so he decided to keep the fact he could technically ‘see’ to himself.
"Well that's just great. Now what?"
Taking a moment to sip from his glass Simon pondered a moment before speaking, "We could stay here, there’s still more than enough for us to drink until they bring the power back, assuming we can find it.” Said option was met with a groan of disgust as Isabel again pulled her soaking shirt away from her skin and so he continued with a roll of his eyes.
“That said, much as I’d like to continue drinking, I don’t think either of us are keen on sitting around in wet clothes.” Not that he was, but better to let her think he share her fate than not. “This place used to be extra living space before they turned it into storage we might be able to find something to dry to change into, or even a shower, the water should still be running after all.”
Finish the remains of his simon made to stand up, only to find himself mirroring Isabel’s earlier movement as the world seemed to tilt around him forcing him to latch onto a nearby wine rack as the sense of vertigo passed. Being dizzy when you couldn’t see was an odd sensation, he could feel the world around him staying still while at the same time his inner ear told him it was doing a slow but purposeful spin.
Surreal, that was the word he was looking for.
Regardless it was making walking more than a trifle puzzling and he found himself contemplating the space between his current position and the door with a slight frown on his face before he turned back to Duskmoor. “Out of curiosity, how’s your sense of balance at the moment? I have a rough idea of the layout on this floor so I can take us around, but if we’re falling down every few steps it won’t do us much good.”
Maya’s eyes flickered from the fog formed towel in her grasp to the section he’d caught between his own fingers, brow furrowing as she tried to discern any difference between the two parts of the whole even as her growing frustration belied her lack of success, causing Simon to hold back a frown.
If she couldn’t differentiate parts of items she’d transformed then there was little more he could teach her that would be safe. Being able to attach A to B had little use if it was meant to belong with D after all. Even now, when the transformation when he wasn’t in control of the transformation he could feel the torn, for lack of a better word, edges of the towel wisps and he couldn’t imagine how she was missing them.
Which, in all honesty, was likely part of the problem. They were brother and sister yes, and they shared a mutation but no two people saw the world the same way. Without understanding precisely how she interpreted the effect of her powers it was difficult to provide guidance, and though english was immensely versatile language, it was somewhat ill equipped to describe a sense held by only two people.
How would you explain ‘green’ to someone colour blind?
Fortunately, his sister was was a veritable spring of positive energy and she soon turned her thoughts elsewhere to discard her frustration; in this case it happened to be the stumps of her wrists which she briefly waved about in a manner so reminiscent her young son that Simon couldn’t help the slight grin which tugged at the corners of his mouth.
"I'm really glad these don't just gush blood everywhere."
“I’ve generally found that mutations avoid effects that are immediately dangerous to the user.” The words came with a pondering tone as he cast his thoughts back to the various characters while he refilled his cup. “Isabel for instance, actually has somewhat enhanced healing to prevent her bleeding out whenever she uses her bones, I believe it also one of the key contributors to her high energy levels and why she can’t stand to sit still for long.”
Pausing for a brief sip he watched idly as Ghost retrieved the torn corner of the towel before continuing.“Without these sorts of safeguards most mutations simply wouldn’t pass on, evolution at its finest I suppose.”
From there the conversation eventually returned to the topic at hand as Maya voiced her difficulties in perceiving the entirety of something she lacked familiarity with before she offered the two parts of the towel she’d been unable to repair with a questioning look. An expression to which Simon merely quirked an eyebrow, he supposed it wouldn’t hurt to show her again, so he set his cup and saucer aside as he took each piece of cloth in hand before they faded just as Maya’s had and he closed his eyes.
Putting something back together was always harder than taking it apart and unfortunately this was no exception. Finding the tear wasn’t the difficult part, it was the fact that the break between the two wasn’t clean, making the process more akin to piecing back jagged shards of glass instead of simple puzzle pieces.
Still that merely made it difficult, not impossible and after a handful of minutes combing through each strand of insubstantial fabric to align them as best he could, he slowly lowered the haze of fabric onto the coffee table before gradually going through the process of weaving it back into being until he was again holding a single piece of cloth in his grasp with one corner slightly out of line of the rest of the checkered pattern.
“Not a perfect fix.” He admitted as he placed it back in Ghosts reach, “but certainly good enough for its purpose. I’m wondering whether it would be helpful to have you practice putting things together, I know you’re more than capable of that.” She’d in fact demonstrated it rather acutely when she’d first taught him the technique, accidentally giving them both insight into the life of conjoined twins. “It might help you find the ‘itch’ I referred to before.”
Cafas: "Zephyr is the king of bad decisions, but if Sebby being weak to ghost is anything to go by, not so amazing at follow through."
