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.
Posted by Alma Elizondo on Aug 18, 2012 11:38:03 GMT -6
Delta Mutant
118
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Jul 14, 2013 10:20:50 GMT -6
Alma kept careful eye on Akshays’ expressions, though her eyes maintained their sparkle. He seemed perplexed by the move up into Quebec, as well as Alma’s sudden return. That was a subject upon which the young woman would not touch. Not now, anyways. The look quickly left his expression, though, as Alma confessed that she hoped to stay.
>> “Well, I certainly hope you do decide to stay. We have loads to catch up on!”
“Definitely,” Alma agreed, grinning broadly, “Perhaps we could get some coffee, some time?”
It was an innocent request, and something normal that Alma would often do with friends, in her most recent years. Her gaze wandered past Akshay for a moment, tracking a few meandering bodachs with her eyes. They were milling about absently—and, thankfully, not toppling things over or causing too many problems. Her attention returned to Akshay.
“Or, you know—something,” Alma said casually, “I don’t know too many good places to eat around here.”
God forbid that they get fast-food.
Profile Link Here Alma speaks in orangered. She also speaks French and Spanish. I don't. Google Translate makes mistakes.
Posted by Alma Elizondo on Aug 11, 2012 1:21:26 GMT -6
Delta Mutant
118
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Jul 14, 2013 10:20:50 GMT -6
Alma had turned her gaze away and averted it to the book before her once more, when the young girl spoke a second time.
>> "Oh, it's okay. I did a lot worse when I was new."
Now that got Alma’s attention. She looked up at the little redhead, inclining her head at her. She’d heard of mutants who grew into their mutations early-on, or were even born with them, but they were rare. Most mutants grew into their powers at puberty—at least, that’s what her uncle always said.
“How old were you when you evolved?” Alma inquired. The question was far less offensive than pointing out how the young girl didn’t even seem of the age to be a real mutant, and evolution implied that gaining a mutation was a step in the right direction. Some mutants were touchy about what they were capable of, but Alma bore general intrigue in anyone who wasn’t related to her.
“What do you do?”
Profile Link Here Alma speaks in orangered. She also speaks French and Spanish. I don't. Google Translate makes mistakes.
Posted by Alma Elizondo on Aug 5, 2012 23:25:34 GMT -6
Delta Mutant
118
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Jul 14, 2013 10:20:50 GMT -6
The man’s fluid retort earned a coy smile from the dark-haired woman, and some flattered fussing with her hair. And, as he wittily replied to Alma’s compliment, the woman’s smile grew into a smirk. Oo, this one was skilled with his words. Perhaps it was fortunate that she’d followed her minion there—he’d led her to a man who could make the evening far more interesting.
“It would seem that fortune’s in my favor, this evening, then,” Alma answered back, her tone just as cordial. If the man were so articulate, then she didn’t have to adjust her vernacular for his sake—she could be just as formal as she always was.
The man extended a hand to her and offered an introduction. Eruption. Alma accepted the hand politely.
“My name is Alma Nadine,” Alma replied fluidly. Surnames were things of the past, but Alma still included her middle name, “They call me the Seer.”
She paused, before politely trailing inside. After these introductions were exchanged, Eruption addressed the bodachs behind the young woman, who lingered outside, luminous gaze unyielding, and form unmoving.
“Come on,” Alma instructed, gesturing to the creature. Now bidden by its master, the thing slinked past, venturing to Alma’s side.
“This is one of my puppets,” Alma explained, apologetically as she lingered, standing, in the entry of the residence, “They are not sentient, so please excuse him if he seems impolite.”
Profile Link Here Alma speaks in orangered. She also speaks French and Spanish. I don't. Google Translate makes mistakes.
Posted by Alma Elizondo on Aug 5, 2012 22:57:35 GMT -6
Delta Mutant
118
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Jul 14, 2013 10:20:50 GMT -6
Alma groaned, looking mildly ashamed, and a little miffed. It would figure that she wouldn’t get a useful mutation. Nothing cool, or deadly—she was followed around by specters that were just as unruly as monkeys. Stupid, vile things that stole ice cream from little girls, right out of their cones. If only there was some way to reprimand them.
Alma turned her body, attempting to reach for her messenger bag, but the map and the book were getting in her way. She folded the map in half, along the crease, and used it as a bookmark as she closed the book, setting the guide down on the sidewalk cover-side up. She then turned and began rummaging into her bag. After minor digging, she finally fished-out her wallet, murmuring crossly in French, before raising her voice to a normal, conversational level to address the child.
“How much does ice cream cost here?” Alma inquired, “Would five dollars suffice?”
Alma was already withdrawing a five-dollar bill and holding it out towards the younger girl.
“I’m so sorry,” she explained, with a self-deprecating laugh, “I’m new to this whole mutant thing. These guys don’t listen to anyone, particularly not me.”
Profile Link Here Alma speaks in orangered. She also speaks French and Spanish. I don't. Google Translate makes mistakes.
Posted by Alma Elizondo on Jul 30, 2012 12:01:44 GMT -6
Delta Mutant
118
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Jul 14, 2013 10:20:50 GMT -6
Alma looked up from the map book as there was a tap upon her shoulder, and a crisp, young voice attempted to grab her attention. Alma arched a fine eyebrow as the word “Miss” passed through the girls’ lips, her eyebrows stitching. Alma was no “Miss”, but she appreciated the younger girls’ politeness.
>> "Excuse me, miss. Are these pests yours?"
Alma glanced slowly towards the little guys, then back at the little girl—slowly, the pieces were fitting together—ice cream without a cone, acquired via methods unknown. Those little bastards.
“Yes,” Alma sighed, “Was that ice cream yours?”
Profile Link Here Alma speaks in orangered. She also speaks French and Spanish. I don't. Google Translate makes mistakes.
Posted by Alma Elizondo on Jul 30, 2012 12:01:22 GMT -6
Delta Mutant
118
0
Jul 14, 2013 10:20:50 GMT -6
The grin confirmed it—this was Akshay. That Akshay. Alma listened as he spoke excitedly, wearing her own delighted smile. After all that had gone on recently, it was such a pleasant change of pace-- such a lovely surprise-- to see an old, friendly face.
>> “Haha! Fine! I’ve been living here since I was adopted! This is actually my comic shop you managed to wander in! As in, I own it.”
“Ah, that’s amazing!” Alma exclaimed, “And so you.”
It really was quite the predictable job for Akshay—it would seem that he hadn’t changed a bit since he’d been adopted. How very fortunate for him. Alma’s smile grew more subdued as the conversation turned back towards her, and she adjusted her hair coolly.
>> “What about you? What’re you doing in town? Have you moved here?”
“Possibly,” Alma said cryptically, her grin returning, “See, after you were adopted, Dad accepted a job up in Quebec and we’ve been there since. And… I decided that I missed the States, so I’m looking to see if there’s a way for me to come back.”
Alma shouldered a shrug. That wasn’t a total lie, nor was it the exact truth, “So for now, I’m just visiting, but that could change. I hope that it does.”
The second part, however, was wholly factual.
Profile Link Here Alma speaks in orangered. She also speaks French and Spanish. I don't. Google Translate makes mistakes.
Posted by Alma Elizondo on Jul 30, 2012 11:59:57 GMT -6
Delta Mutant
118
0
Jul 14, 2013 10:20:50 GMT -6
Alma was still in that awkward transitional phase—that phase of going from transient to a homeless girl in a glorified shelter, in which you hadn’t gotten a job or made enough friends to hang out with, and therefore didn’t have much to do.
Part of her was inclined to stay indoors—the streets were unfamiliar and therefore unsafe, and there was this simmering fear that at any moment, her former friends would turn-up. And yet, Alma couldn’t stay inside a moment longer. She needed to find something to do.
This evening, she’d opted to go to an art gallery—it was a higher-end affair that mandated finer attire, so she left the Sanctuary in her heels and a little black dress, one of the few formal pieces of clothing that she’d brought with her. A woman by the name of Sapphire Lupin was the featured artist, and admittedly, Alma hadn’t heard of her. She’d more of just went to dress-up and get out of the Sanctuary.
The little guys meandered about her in a lull, seemingly put to sleep by the low-key atmosphere of the gallery—the big guys had been lost somewhere between the entrance and the current room, too slow to keep up with the young woman that they followed.
Alma paused to look at a painting, while the bodachs distracted themselves with an impressive (and rather shiny) metal sculpture. They were neither visible nor tangible at the moment, thankfully, but Alma still chastised them under her breath. She might have earned a glance or two from passerby's, to which Alma withdrew a Bluetooth device from her pocket and wedged it into her ear.
"Cut it out!" she hissed. The bodachs looked at her in confusion, and then stumbled over themselves to go find something else to do. Alma redirected her attention to the painting before her once again, folding her arms.
Profile Link Here Alma speaks in orangered. She also speaks French and Spanish. I don't. Google Translate makes mistakes.
Posted by Alma Elizondo on Jul 25, 2012 17:23:58 GMT -6
Delta Mutant
118
0
Jul 14, 2013 10:20:50 GMT -6
Alma was quite patient when it came to people who stared awkwardly at her—she was actually quite used to it, because it happened to her with an alarming frequency. But… this guy really took the cake when it came to awkward stares. He seemed to space-out for a few spells, as if about to come to an incredible realization, and Alma began to retract her hand. Weird, weeeeird guy.
Alma turned stiffly back to the bookshelf, wondering if this was a store she’d come back to in the future—or if she did, if she’d have to wear some sort of indescribably modest outfit, or a disguise. This would be a difficult selection to part with—the comic store was a total goldmine, she could already tell—but would Alma overlook the weirdness of the costumed clerk for the sake of comics.
The guy came around after a few heartbeats, prying off his mask. He was about to speak. Alma looked at him hesitantly, eyebrows raising into fine arches.
>> “Llama?”
Llama, Alma echoed mentally? What in the big, wide world did llamas have to do with anything? Or was her name Alma pursed her lips in confusion. Slowly, gradually, the pieces began to fit together, until the lightbulb seemed to flick on in the young woman’s head. Now that she thought about it… his face did look vaguely familiar, if not older than she remembered… Alma inclined her head.
“Akshay, is that you?” she inquired, a grin touching her features. It had to be him. No one else in their right minds would call Alma that unflattering name—nobody else did, “No way! It’s good to see you!”
No wonder he’d be staring at her so strangely! Alma found herself pulling the young man in for a hug, her excitement spurring her forward. Okay, maybe that was a little too intense for a guy you hadn’t seen in over ten years, but Alma was too pleased to care. Alma quickly released him, and inquired, “How have you been? What have you been up to?”
God, he had changed so much-- no longer was he the gangly, goofy-looking boy from Buffalo that Alma remembered. That kid who'd crushed on her sister (in a way that was overt, even to a seven-year-old), but ultimately wound-up spending more time with the younger of the two Elizondo girls. In fact, it could be safe to say that he was entirely at-fault for Alma's persistent obsession with all things nerdy, as they often spent many a-day reading comics together. They were good memories, happy times that were a stark contrast to how insane things had become recently.
Profile Link Here Alma speaks in orangered. She also speaks French and Spanish. I don't. Google Translate makes mistakes.
Posted by Alma Elizondo on Jul 25, 2012 16:29:54 GMT -6
Delta Mutant
118
0
Jul 14, 2013 10:20:50 GMT -6
As the little redhead began her indignant shouting at the larger bodachs, it let out a quiet rumble and turned its shoulder, much like a dog defending its meal, and it continued to nibble at the acquired treat. It seemed not to care that the child was staring daggers into its head, for its single-minded focus was on the snack.
Had it not been so intent upon eating, it might have moved aside as the girl went to punch it. It paused, perplexed for a moment by the girl’s new stance. Her body tensed, and then she released the punch, which connected with the creatures midsection with a disgusting squelch. The bodach glanced down, then at the child. It stared blankly, for a few moments, as if baffled by the action. And, while it stared, the ice cream lolled out of its hands, landing on the sidewalk with a splat.
The creature stared mutedly at the dropped ice cream, stepping away from the punch, letting out a disappointed grumble. It turned and began to leave, then vanished altogether. The little ones, all the while, abandoned the quarter over which they’d been bickering and, as a team, picked-up the ice cream and began to make their retreat.
“Hey!” one of the little guys chirped, emulating the redheads own shout as they retreated. The one cry was followed by echoes from the other ones, “Hey! Hey!”
They were taking their boon back to their master who, still wholly unaware of her creatures’ shenanigans, was perusing a map book and a book of hostels. Alma fixed her hair with a sigh, a familiar rumbling catching her attention. It was one of the large shadow-things.
“What?” she demanded. There was no answer. Thirty seconds later, the trio of little guys came scampering around the corner, holding the ice cream over their heads as if it were an enormous trophy. With how they were whistling and shrieking in delight, you would think that it was such a thing.
“Where’d you get that?” Alma demanded of them, as they scurried closer. As always, the things didn’t answer. They just dropped the scoop of ice cream down on the sidewalk—the second that the treat touched the sidewalk, there was a feeding frenzy. Alma donned a bemused expression, and went back to reading the mapbook with a murmured, “Huh, I didn’t know you pests ate.”
Profile Link Here Alma speaks in orangered. She also speaks French and Spanish. I don't. Google Translate makes mistakes.
Posted by Alma Elizondo on Jul 23, 2012 22:54:43 GMT -6
Delta Mutant
118
0
Jul 14, 2013 10:20:50 GMT -6
The littler bodachs continued in their whining, for it seemed to get a positive reaction from the redheaded girl. She smiled at them, which was a step in the right direction, but it wasn’t getting them what they wanted. The whines became a chorus, and their eyes blinked in and out of sight, as if they were batting their nonexistent eyelashes.
The sound of the begging drew the attention of passerbys, both human and otherwise—a larger bodachs inched out of the alleyway, hearing the commotion, and edged soundlessly closer to the redhead. The littler ones redirected their attention to their larger cohort, jumping up and flailing, and continuing their high-pitched noises. Though there were no intelligible words in the stream of noise, the larger bodachs crept around the redheaded girl and the diminutive shadowy creatures, inclining its head, luminous gaze flickering towards the boon—the sphere of pistachio ice cream.
Well, if that was what they wanted—
A tendril of bodachs-goop extended from its side and formed a vague arm, almost like a tentacle. As it drew closer to the ice cream, the tentacle split into five smaller parts, emulating a hand. The bodachs grasped the ice cream and pop! beheaded the ice cream cone. The little ones cheered victoriously, leaping and attempting to grab at the newly-acquired treat. The larger bodachs, however, wasn’t feeling particularly generous.
It took a hesitant bite of the treat. And, upon realizing that it was pretty good, took another bite. The shouts of victory from the little guys became whines again, though not of begging—of disappointment.
Profile Link Here Alma speaks in orangered. She also speaks French and Spanish. I don't. Google Translate makes mistakes.
Posted by Alma Elizondo on Jul 23, 2012 22:38:38 GMT -6
Delta Mutant
118
0
Jul 14, 2013 10:20:50 GMT -6
Alma fussed with her hair, still thoroughly embarrassed by her nerdy little outburst. She could hear her mother’s grating voice grinding in the recesses of her subconscious—it was shouting that women should never read comic books, nor should they play video games. Such endeavors were frowned upon. Of course, Alma never listened. She just internalized her tirades whenever possible. The costumed boy gave a sputtered thanks at Alma’s hasty compliment, and a faint grin touched the girl’s face. Sometimes, it was highly amusing to interact with her fellow-nerds. Highly amusing, indeed. Alma finished thumbing through one stack of comics, moved onto the next, shifting her gaze towards the clerk uncertainly.
He was still standing there, staring, as if he expected the girl in front of him to vanish on the spot. Alma looked around in mild confusion, then at her own feet. Nope, she was still there.
>> “S…Sophia?”
Now that made Alma pause. Almas’ eyebrows leapt up inquiringly, before she gave a funny, quirked grin. That was more than just a coincidence—of all the names to drop, the clerk had dropped her sister’s name. Either they’d attended school together, which seemed more probable than the second idea that Alma entertained—that she should have known this guy, too. Or perhaps it was just a lucky guess.
“No,” Alma said lightly, her hazel eyes dancing in amusement, “My sister’s name is Sophia, but the mistake is totally common. We have been mistaken for twins.” Contrary to the two-and-a-half-year gap that split them up. Alma was a taller, thinner doppelganger of her sister, though not personality-wise. She shifted her gaze at the guy, as if trying to discern the face beneath the mask. She didn’t want to be too hasty about asking questions of him. If Alma was supposed to know him, but asked how he knew Sophia, she’d look like an idiot. But if she pretended to recognize him, and wound-up not knowing who he was, she’d still be an idiot. It had been ages since Alma had seen Akshay’s face, so it would be a stretch for her to recognize him, particularly with fifteen-or-so years added onto their faces.
The best route would be introductions. Besides which, she was relatively certain that the guy was cute under the mask, so exchanging names didn’t sound like a horrible idea.
“My name is Alma,” Alma said simply, extending a hand towards the clerk, “I’m going to be in-town for an undefined amount of time, so saw fit to look about for potential haunts. Such as comic book shops.”
Profile Link Here Alma speaks in orangered. She also speaks French and Spanish. I don't. Google Translate makes mistakes.
Posted by Alma Elizondo on Jul 23, 2012 9:17:03 GMT -6
Delta Mutant
118
0
Jul 14, 2013 10:20:50 GMT -6
The eyes were all-wrong. That’s what Alma noticed when the “rogue bodach” opened the door. She stared momentarily, before realizing that, in-person, his features were too defined, and not vague like those of her shadowy cohorts. He wasn’t a bodachs at all, but a guy. A cut-looking stone man, but a guy nonetheless. The guy gaped, and Alma folded her arms, gaze cutting towards the bodachs behind her. It was fully-visible, and she opted to chastise it in Spanish.
“You could not tell that this was a man?!” she whispered, “Do you know how embarrassing this is?”
The bodachs shrugged, a gesture that it had picked up from another one of the Haven members, and mumbled something incoherently. If Alma hadn’t known better, it sounded like a teen back-sassing their mom. She glanced back towards the stone man, gaze roving over him openly before a small, bashful smile touched her face. His eyes were like infernos, a luminous, fiery white with the occasional tilts of orange and red, or yellow. A man with eyes of literal fire. Interesting.
The smoldering gaze lingered an Alma, and was a touch unreadable, given the statuesque face that they were set against. Alma’s kneejerk reaction was to believe that the guy was annoyed that someone had awoken him, even as he gestured for her to come in.
“I beg your pardon,” Alma said, bowing her head slightly, “I mean, sorry—I did not mean to bother at you at this hour. There’s a slim possibility that I might have mistaken you as one of these… fools-“ she gestured at the bodachs behind her, who was bobbing passively, “-I am sorry that I disturbed you.”
That was, unless she hadn’t disturbed him, and the disruption was welcomed. In that case, Alma was perfectly content to look at the man—or, more specifically, his eyes. She found them so intriguing, and surreally beautiful, even if all-wrong for a bodach.
“And if I might be so bold as to say this,” Alma said, after her apology, “I find your eyes captivating, sir.”
Alma was hopeless—come to retrieve a rogue bodachs, and when she found out that it wasn’t a bodachs at all, she started flirting with him. Even though he didn't seem to be more than a sentient statue, he was a ripped sentient statue. The woman was a lost-cause, and absolute lost-cause. Alma glanced over her shoulder awkwardly, a self-dismissal and another apology on the tip of her tongue. She should leave. Hastily.
Profile Link Here Alma speaks in orangered. She also speaks French and Spanish. I don't. Google Translate makes mistakes.
Posted by Alma Elizondo on Jul 23, 2012 8:55:29 GMT -6
Delta Mutant
118
0
Jul 14, 2013 10:20:50 GMT -6
A trio of the little ones honed-in on the young redheaded girl, at first, because of what she had in her hand. Alma had not yet learned that they needed to meet, so the bodachs were feeling a touch peckish. It was the girl’s great misfortune that, not only did she have food, but it was unhealthy, sugary food—the food that the bodachs loved most, and the food that Alma did her best to avoid. The bodachs were frolicking on the sidewalk, hopping up onto a lip between tile that separated the building’s base from the sidewalk, before being pushed or pulled back down by the other bodachs.
When the girl made her approach, however, the bodachs slowly snapped to attention, one-by-one. And, when she dropped the change, that didn’t help matters—the once dull and boring sidewalk now had shinies. And, in the underdeveloped minds of the little bodachs, the introduction of shinies triggered their kleptomanic inclinations. The shinies were going to be theirs now, and the girl was powerless to their whims. They lunged into motion, darting after the coins just as the girl did. She was quick, but there was one, small success—a quarter had managed to make it just out of reach, and the shadowy imps were all-too-quick to commandeer it.
The victor let out a faint squeal of delight, holding the quarter over its head. Upon seeing this, the second (and empty-handed) bodach tried to take it, and a tug-of-war over the quarter ensued. The third, all the while, looked to the other two, looked to the pavement, and the stared at the redheaded girl. Or, more specifically, the red-headed girl’s ice cream. Luminous white-blue eyes pierced into her very soul, and seemed to say. Give the cute, eerie thing your ice cream… you know you want to. It even let out a faint whine.
The other ones heard the noise and emulated it, though neither released the quarter. They whined at the red-head in hopes that it'd earn them ice cream.
Posted by Alma Elizondo on Jul 23, 2012 8:42:55 GMT -6
Delta Mutant
118
0
Jul 14, 2013 10:20:50 GMT -6
One of the stores’ employees circled-in on Alma and welcomed her chipperly. Merde, Alma breathed mentally. Couldn’t a girl just… look at books casually without getting attacked squirrely comic book store people. When she looked up, she wore a hesitant smile, and came face-to-face with a guy in perhaps the best cosplay she’d ever seen.
“Tom Blake’s Red Raptor costume,” Alma murmured with a flash of a smile, allowing herself a moment to spew her opinion on the cosplay, “For the new game that’s coming out? I’d wager, the costume is far more comfortable than the conventional Red Raptor costume.”
With the mask on, she didn’t have that same instance of recognition. Rather, there was a momentary pause when she saw that the boy was inclining his head at her. Her own eyebrows inclining. Perhaps he was baffled by the fact that a girl with her looks was rattling-off so much knowledge.
“Or Darien Lane’s costume,” Alma murmured, “At least he gets to wear full-length pants.”
She cleared her throat awkwardly. She was digging herself a deeper hole, and was feeling a touch embarrassed. The bodachs watched inquiringly, chirping at their master's unease.
“Either way, the costume’s great,” she mumbled, “Totally spot-on.”
She turned back to the bookshelf uncertainly, beginning to thumb through the comics that were already on-shelf.
Profile Link Here Alma speaks in orangered. She also speaks French and Spanish. I don't. Google Translate makes mistakes.
Posted by Alma Elizondo on Jul 23, 2012 0:14:57 GMT -6
Delta Mutant
118
0
Jul 14, 2013 10:20:50 GMT -6
Life underground wasn’t something to scoff at. In fact, after things had gone to Hell in a hand basket, and after her family’s reputation collapsed with many-a New York building, retreating underground actually seemed favorable. Alma hadn’t initially gone underground—her bodachs had tried to steal food from a wolf-girl. The wolf-girl, around Haven—Emerald Lupin—and, well, Emerald had squashed the bodachs like a bug. But, once Alma showed herself and apologized for the actions of her little miscreant-bodach, Emerald had asked the young woman if she had anywhere to go, or anyone with whom to affiliate. Alma replied that she didn’t, and thus she came to stay in Haven.
She remained in her residence, quite-frequently. A one-room studio type of set-up. She had a bed, and a smattering of possessions that had been her before the city had been blown-up. Most of them were kept locked-up in a locker that she’d scrounged from an old high school, bolted to her own floor.
In the years that transpired, Alma became something of a hermit. She preferred her apartment to the company of others, let her bodachs handle human interactions. With the destruction of the City, more bodachs came, which furthered Alma’s belief that they were supernatural things—they’d run errands for her, spy on people, and she’d occasionally use them to help Emerald, if the boss-woman asked her to. She frequently did.
But, when Alma wasn’t taking orders, she was venturing about unseen, using bodachs to go beyond the borders. This evening, she’d come to a settlement, which she presumed to be “The Town”. They were on kind terms with the Haven, but Alma hadn’t been there, yet. She was using one of the big guys to saunter around the settlement, scoping the scene. For the most part, he was intangible and invisible, unless something struck the interest of the spy. Then she’d command him to become physical, to rummage around, before letting him disappear again.
It was an uneventful series of events—which usually ended in Alma calling the large bodachs back to Haven and going to bed. This evening, however, she saw a rogue bodachs.
“What on earth?”
The large, invisible shadowy puppet that she was currently controlled circled behind its apparent relative, and Alma hissed faintly, attempting to connect to the rogue without avail. She didn’t consider that this bodachs might be an actual mutant, only that it had to be one of her minions, that had seemingly developed the capacity to disobey her. Alma rose from her chair and crossed the room, wriggling into a wool coat. She donned a scarf, as well, which accented her jeans and boots well. She then set-off to investigate.
Alma walked quickly—the walk to the Town wasn’t a long one, if you knew the path, and as Alma had used the bodachs to follow it a number of times, she knew it well. Alma commanded her first bodachs to follow the rogue until she got there. The woman was quickly closing-in.
After almost a half-hour of walking, Alma had come above ground, and had passed through the checkpoint to get into town. Her record was clear, she wasn’t an Amazon, and she wasn’t staying long. Thus, she was permitted to enter. Following the trail of her bodachs, she wove down streets as if this had been her hope the past few years, and as she finally found her first bodachs, she gestured for him to come over.
“Where is your brother?” she demanded, shrewd eyes fastening onto the shadowy creature. The thing let out a faint, inhuman whine, as if to speak, and gestured casually towards what seemed to be a small residence. Odd. Alma went to the door, and knocked twice, her brow furrowed. How could a bodach go rogue? Alma could have sworn that they were thoughtless creatures. The bodach bobbed up behind Alma as she waited, and flickered into view, luminous eyes inquiring.
Profile Link Here Alma speaks in orangered. She also speaks French and Spanish. I don't. Google Translate makes mistakes.
