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.
By the time she had woken up again, the whole world had already been thrown into a frenzy of activity. The television new stations had finally started to pay attention to Romania when the protesters and the police started clashing in Bucharest. Cameras and reporters from other countries couldn't really get an up close view of what was happening at the street level, though. The most up to date eyewitness account, however verifiable their information might be, came again from tweeters.
After grabbing a pair of toast slices and smearing them unceremoniously with strawberry jam, Katrina hurried back to the library, pausing only briefly in the living room to look over the shoulders of the group of students who were staring at the newscast.
Messages were being posted even faster than before in the land of Twitter. A moment after she loaded the page there were already over a hundred new messages. They short, poorly spelled and punctuated sentences offered hundreds of little views into the Romanian world, and somehow it all added up to one picture. The picture was not an especially pretty one, but it certainly seemed familiar. People's homes were being raided. Mutants were being rounded up and collared. The old Concentration Camps from WWII were being used as mutant prisons- maybe. Someone named Red Liberty was coming. Already violence had erupted. Too much violence for such a short time period. Didn't they realize?
"Returning violence for violence multiplies violence, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars... Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that." MLKJr. =^.^= #romanianreg
"Hate the sin, love the sinner." Ghandi. Violence is not the answer. =^.^= #romanianreg
"Let us not become the evil that we deplore." Barbara Lee =^.^= #romanianreg
But she didn't have much time to spend leaving hopeful messages. She had bags to pack.
Ever since Fausto had told her that he and Slate would next be heading to Romania, the little illusionist had been researching everything she could about the country. The library set of encyclopedias provided a little background information on the history of the country all the way from its medieval castles and traditional vampire folklore all the way through its more recent involvements with the world wars, the short reign of communism, and the more recent democracy.
News articles filled her in on more recent events that were happening there, from the assassination of a key leader to rumors of anti-mutant legislation in the works. The most alarming of those was a bill to register mutants and create detention facilities designed specifically to house known mutant criminals. It all sounded suspiciously familiar to the young illusionist and she wondered how they could have ignored the lessons of what happened in the United States.
She didn't find anything useful on American television news stations. They seemed much more likely to report all the details of Michael Jackson's autopsy results night after night than they were to have any useful information on world news. National Public Radio was much better at providing a global view, especially the late night shows that were actually broadcast from British radio networks.
The most up to date information, though, came from people who were actually in Romania sharing their stories via blogs and Twitter.
October 31st found Katrina frowning at her computer screen. She had helped earlier in the evening with the Halloween party for the younger mansion students, running games like bobbing for apples and pin the grin on the jack-o-lantern. The party was over now, but she hadn't bothered to change out of her costume. Now the sleeves of her blue robe were rolled up to allow her to type, and her big pointed yellow hat was askew, partially blocking her computer screen lest anyone try to look over her shoulder. Not that she would really care if they did.
It was 11:42 pm in New York City. In Bucharest it was already 6:42 in the morning of November first. At least, she thought it was. It was also a daylight savings time switchover tonight in the US, which threw all the time calculations off. Whatever the exact time, things were starting to happen in Romania. Nothing had reached the news yet, but Twitter was on fire with rapidly posted messages about what was supposed to happen today. The Senate and the Chamber of Deputies were voting early this morning on whether or not to pass Romania's version of the Mutant Registration Act. According to Romanian tweeters, police were already lining the streets in preparation for the announcement of the vote outcome. Other groups were already preparing protests and acts of revenge and/or revolution, depending on one's perspective.
The part that made her frown was that everyone just seemed to be waiting for a riot. If everyone expected violence and came prepared for violence, it seemed pretty likely that violence would be the outcome. Someone needed to be a voice for peace, so Katrina decided to leave a few messages of her own. They weren't entirely original, just famous quotations of things other leaders had said, but she felt that they were again relevant to this issue and so posted them with her own little signature attached.
"Nonviolence does not mean that we remain indifferent to a problem." Dalai Lama. =^.^= #romanianreg
"We must learn to live together as brothers or perish together as fools." MLKJr. =^.^= #romanianreg
"I object to violence because when it appears to good, the good is only temporary; the evil it does is permanent." Ghandi. =^.^= #romanianreg
The little black mage glanced at the clock again. It was tomorrow already. If Twitter was any indication, things would begin happening quite soon. She'd need to be packing her bag so she could stow her way over to Romania where she could make a real difference, but first, she needed to sleep.
The harshness in Ryuichi's voice startled her right out of her tears and made her listen, really listen, to what he was saying. He was right; the green eyed man wasn't going to stop hurting people until someone stopped him. He had a track record already of hurting everyone with whom he came in contact. Just because Katrina didn't want her friends to be the ones that faced him, didn't mean that he wouldn't hurt keep hurting other people's friends and family members. At least if it was her friends who faced him they knew what were up against, and had a somewhat better chance to survive because of it.
Ryuichi was right, but it still didn't mean that she wanted them to go be the ones to stop him. She knew she was being selfish, but she couldn't help but feel like it should be someone else who took care of the problem. Like the police. Wasn't it their job to catch people like that? Though, they maybe weren't the ones that were the best equipped to handle some problems. Maybe a mutation was something that gave people the responsibility to do something where other people couldn't, like the X-men tried to do. Then again, maybe she had just read too many corny old comics about guys getting mutations from spider bites, of all things.
She took a deep breath and wiped the dampness off her face. She wasn't aware that she had done it with the edge of Koga's orange pillow case.
Katrina nodded as the lizard boy flopped back onto his own bed, sprawling between Katrina's wall hugging position and Kaz's bed edge perch. He was right, but it would take her courage to tell them that. She would prefer to never think about the incident again, but if someone didn't do something it would just keep happening again and again. She had made the first step by telling someone what had happened. Now she had to be brave enough to let people she knew could deal with the problem go and deal with it.
She took a deep breath, then spoke again, this time without choking on her words, “Send the X-men. It's their job to catch people like that. If you three go with vengeance in your hearts to torture him, then you are no better than he is.” She was trying her best to sound brave, but her voice was still shaking a little. “And, while the X-men are gone... Fausto, Ryuichi, could you two keep me safe here?”
Venom dripped from Koga's words like disdain, malevolence, and enmity turned liquid. There was so much anger in him that had built up so suddenly it was almost as if a thunderstorm had built up behind his eyes and all Katrina could see in their black depths was lightning, ready to strike anyone who came near.
This was a part of Koga that she hadn't seen before, and it scared her.
Fausto spoke in support of her words, but the whispers he spoke so only Koga could hear did not comfort her. Kaz could hear them, though, and his response gave away what had been said. Katrina just hugged the pillow tighter, squeezing her eyes closed and shaking her head, as if by retreating into herself she could make both herself and this whole situation disappear.
The tighter she curled into herself, the harder she shook. Not even Kazelf's words and the comforting hand on her knee stopped her shaking. If they were hurt it would be her fault. If they hurt or killed the green eyed man it would be her fault.
“I never should've... showed you,” she managed to gasp between shuddering breaths. “Don't do... something bad... because of me.”
Katrina watched the seatbelt sign with rapt attention. The moment the seatbelt sign was turned off, she stood up and stretched, bending all the way forward to touch her toes. Not that sitting on Fausto's lap all through take off was so terrible, it was just a little cramped. There was hardly enough leg room for one person, let alone two people trying to share one seat. Maybe it would have been worth the risk of being discovered to just buy two tickets and forget all the secretive nonsense. Though, she might not have gotten this far if people, like her mother, knew that she wasn't really spending a long weekend at Cielle's apartment to hang out with the band.
“I'm going to go stretch my legs for a bit,” she whispered in Fausto's ear. “I'll be back in a bit.”
They were towards the back of the plane, so unless she wanted to visit the stewardesses preparing the beverage cart or the aft lavatories, there wasn't much to see father back. Invisible, she wandered towards the front of the plane. She amused herself by trying to imagine life stories for some of the more interesting looking people she saw.
There was a dark featured woman holding a brand new baby. Katrina imagined that she was going home to Romania to visit the baby's grand parents for the first time. Naturally, the woman looked a little nervous about the journey considering the political turmoil her home country was experiencing right now.
There was a blonde businessman reading a newspaper and wishing he had upgraded to first class. Katrina peered over his shoulder at the headlines. With worrying about getting through the airport undetected she hadn't had time to catch the latest updates on the Registration and the Resistance. “Twitter: A new medium for today's protesters” was the article he was looking at. Katrina already knew about the twitter part of the resistance. She had already made a twitter account and changed her location to Romania to help shield the protesters from the government trying to search out protester's locations that way. She had already read many of the messages that were being broadcast to get an idea of what she was getting into. She had even retweeted her fair share of the messages, too.
The curtain that separated the coach passengers from the first class ones hung somewhat askew, taunting those in the cheap seats with a view of the luxury experienced in the foremost part of the cabin. It also discouraged them from wandering up their to gawk rudely or clog up the bathrooms reserved for the more privileged passengers.
Katrina was invisible, though, so she didn't mind swishing her way through the little curtain like an errant breeze. No one would even notice her checking out who was who in the big cozy seats.
Katrina blushed at Fausto's compliments about how much she had grown. Perhaps she had a little bit; she had certainly practiced a lot.
"My version of French toast won't be very filling," she admitted honestly, trying to downplay her accomplishment, though secretly she was glad he enjoyed it. Now that she was no longer concentrating on his chewing, she went back to eating the remaining slices that rested on her plate. They had gotten just a little colder, but she enjoyed them even more than she had the first bites, perhaps because she wasn't taking for granted the simple act of chewing.
At the same time, she listened to Fausto's further explanations. At the mention of building a school, the faintest shadow of a memory flickered across her consciousness for a moment, then was gone. Pax. She didn't know what it meant. It left her feeling a little saddened for what might have been without even knowing why. Somehow, she felt left out that she hadn't been able to help, as if she was supposed to have been there but for some reason wasn't.
Fausto revealed more of the puzzle pieces, but there were still some missing. Words like "kill two birds with one stone" and "alibi" seemed like they still didn't belong in this picture. Katrina chewed thoughtfully, turning over her food in her mouth even as she chewed on the new ideas Fausto presented.
It seemed odd that two boys who had skipped all their classes last Spring would be doing so because they were convincing young Columbian children that education was vital. "You did a good thing, to start a new school and convince students to study there," Katrina nodded in approval, but her face was still thoughtful.
She knew Fausto wanted to make the world better, but she wasn't sure that she agreed with the methods he had described to her in the past. Conquering the world and forcing peace down people's throats still seemed like it wasn't the best option to her. She and Slate had a similar discussion once, too. Or she and Calley had. Back then it had kind of been both of them at the same time. All they had come up with was a rather idealistic plan to teach children peaceful ways from the very beginning rather than trying to force adults into it later on.
Maybe that's why Slate had started a school in Columbia where they needed peace so badly. Maybe that was the two birds with one stone. One bird was the children and one was the adults. The school could teach peace from an early age onward; as for the adults, they could use force to hold them in place and keep them from destroying their world until their children were old enough to make peaceful choices for themselves. Heaven and earth drew closer together, the idealistic pieces and the realistic pieces started to look like they all might belong together after all.
Katrina was skeptical, though. Would something like that work on a scale as large as a country? Was doing something like that right; was taking away the freedom of a country the best way to find peace? What happened if the children made a mistake and made things worse instead of better? Mistakes on the scale of countries were very large mistakes. If their intentions were good, was it better to try to make a difference? Or was it better not to meddle for fear that something could go horribly and irrevocably wrong? Images of a war she had never seen and dead faces of people she loved but had never known flashed past her inner eye and she shivered, again without really knowing why.
Slate was a healer, but could all the cancers in the world be healed or would cutting out the tumors leave a world so weakened that it could no longer live?
She would have to wait and see.
Fausto's announcement that they were going to Romania caught her off guard so she almost choked on her last bite of French toast and had to take a quick drink of water to recover. He was leaving again? The disappointment had just barely registered in her mind and hadn't yet registered on her face when he offered to take her with.
"Really?"
She wouldn't have to suffer through another long and boring wait while half the people she knew were gallivanting around in another country. If Slate and Fausto were going, surely there would be others as well. Two teenaged boys couldn't fix a country's problems all on their own. If she went along she could see first hand what they were up to and decide for herself what she thought about their efforts. And she wouldn't have to miss Fausto. Though, from the sound of it, she would be missing Koga. Apparently she couldn't have everything exactly the way she wanted.
Katrina nodded carefully, "Okay. I'll go." Her mother was going to kill her when she found out. Especially so soon after... what had happened. This was something she needed to do, though. She could prove that she could take care of herself. The prospect of such an adventure was already making her feel a little bit more like her old self again rather than the melancholy malcontent she had been all summer.
She could see what he meant. A piece of toast dissolved in his mouth as easily as cotton candy. It was like so much flavored air, gone before he really had a chance to taste it. Maybe she could do something about that.
"Here, try this," she commanded. She handed him a piece of toast that hadn't been on her plate before. It wasn't real, but she was trying to make it seem more real than real for him. The illusion toast felt like real toast, and smelled like it too. She wanted to see if she could make it taste real as well.
"Chew carefully." She watched as he took a bite and imagined what taking a bite of toast was supposed to feel like. As he moved his jaw, she imagined the feeling of food squishing slowly between teeth, little by little rather than all at once. She imagined the taste, sweetened with syrup and spiced with cinnamon.
She scrutinized his progress so she could accurately convey the feelings and tastes as he chewed. Her visage showed her concentration until he had finished and she relaxed again.
"So, I still have a question." Or maybe a couple of questions. He said he had been in Columbia. That was where they had held the Youth For Change Conference that she hadn't been able to go to. That obviously wasn't the only thing that had happened there. A conference, a school rebuilt, armed conflicts dropped, military bases, stability achieved.
"What kind of school did you build? And why a school?" She didn't understand how that all fit together? And Fausto had a boss, that had coordinated all of this? He certainly had been busy with more than just the band. Stability was a good thing, much better than the chaos of the drug wars and mafia-like killings and all the other things her mother had sited for reasons Katrina couldn't go to the conference in April.
"Wait, Slate?" Katrina blinked several times trying to get that newest piece of the puzzle to fit with the rest. Slate had said he inherited control of Mondragon Labs Medical. What business did a medical company have in Columbia? And what business did Fausto have working for a medical company?
"I don't understand. Why do you work for Slate and what could he want with Columbia?" The longer she stared at the pieces to the puzzle, the more it seemed that the pieces didn't belong together. Someone had taken random pieces from ten different puzzles and thrown them together in a pile for her to solve and she couldn't for the life of her solve the disjointed mess.
You don't really need an official greeter. Anyone that lives or works at the mansion knows where the paperwork is kept. Martin, being the mansion gardener that he is, would be able to help you get set up with papers.
Never you mind that shiny Kabal logo he's wearing... He's the mansion gardener and he is not listening through the hedges to your super secret conversations.
Katrina nodded. They had said that so many times. Perhaps that was just the way it always was with mutants. Humans could stay in the same place their entire lives, but mutant had to wander. There was something in their genes, it seemed, that forced them to seek new horizons once in awhile, then come back again to old stomping grounds.
The jokes about breakfast made her smile again, and she didn't feel like she had to look at her feet again.
“If I die from your breakfast, I'll write you out of my will,” Katrina joked back. She didn't have a will, or anything to leave to anybody. Nor would she be able to make changes to a will after she had already died, but that was beside the point. She didn't really think she had to worry about it; Fausto was putting together ingredients like a professional chef. Katrina certainly never would have thought to put cinnamon in eggs. She wasn't sure what he was making until he started dipping bread into the egg mixture.
“French toast!” She liked french toast, it was one of the breakfasts Hans used to cook on mornings when Katrina was home sick from school; he always made her feel like a princess and sometimes her butler had seemed more like a member of her family than an employee of her parents.
>>>¨I thought you hated me ... I believed you did not want to talk to me again.¨
Katrina frowned at him, her brow crinkled; she couldn't figure out how he could have come to that conclusion. “No, I never could hate you. I only... I didn't mean to yell, I was just feeling frustrated and shouldn't have said what I did. I understand that you can't always be tied to one spot. You've got important things to be doing with the band and... whatever else you do... when you're away.” She really didn't know much about why he left. She had assumed it was for something to do with the band, but she wasn't sure. If that was all it was, why was it such a big secret before?
The toast fried in the pan and Katrina wandered closer so she could stand behind Fausto and watch the process. Each side browned slowly, so it wouldn't burn.
“Wait a minute. If you are making a movie about your life, shouldn't you go to class to show what that is like?” She was kidding, of course. Classes didn't even start until next week, but Fausto probably hadn't been paying attention since he never went anyway. If it had been a school day, Katrina knew which classes she would be skipping; math, physical education, and self defense. She didn't really think it was necessary to be doing two physical classes per day and math... math was math.
“Sure, I'll help with the movie.” Katrina took her plate with the newly finished french toast slices on it and grabbed the syrup from the refrigerator on her way to one of the tables. “If I don't die, that is.”
She took a big bite and dripped syrup on her chin. Whoops! She reached for a napkin to wipe it off; she was not being very lady-like this morning. “Sorry, I'm a mess,” she mumbled with her mouth half full before she swallowed and started cutting her next piece.
The ice mutant had a smooth tongue, but Joshua wasn't fooled. This man may sound like he wanted to help, but he was using his ability to attack. There was no way that he was going to listen to that. Frost formed on his skin and on his knives, and the silverware manipulator was feeling sluggish, but he wasn't going to give up. He wouldn't let anyone kidnap him and take him from his home.
>>>”Joshua calm down buddy, I just want to talk I promise! I don’t want to take you anywhere!”
“No!”
Lies. Mutants weren't supposed to attack other mutants. They were supposed to be on the same side, but this man was an enemy. The older man dodged his attacks, and Josh rallied for another one. Knives and other less dangerous utensils swirled, this time splitting randomly and flying not only where the ice manipulator was, but anywhere he might try to go as well. The boy tightened his grip on the knives in his hands and raced in for another head on attack.
He wouldn't let the snow covering his arms stop him. Though he shivered, he knew he had to win before he would freeze to death. The stakes kept rising. Outside the circle of frost, Matt collapsed to one knee and a ripple shivered through the air as his forcefield collapsed. Josh snarled and hurled a couple of knives randomly toward the onlookers, not really aiming, just warning them to stay away.
...
Hymn dodged the knife by ducking in one direction. Katrina ducked the other way. The nuns backed up and looked at each other, not sure what to do. Katrina ran towards them, motioning toward the building.
“Go inside! Take shelter! Sam can take care of this.” At least, she hoped he could, because she had no idea what to do. She was nervous and unsure what to do with herself. Was she supposed to stay and help, or should she go inside, too? And what about Caitlyn? Should she get her inside, too? Even though the girl looked older than herself, she sometimes seemed like a little girl even younger than Katrina. She was vulnerable out there...
A soft music floated through the air. From Caitlyn's mouth, the sweet notes of confusion issued forth.
Katrina looked back from where she was. She was brave. She could help. She started running back towards the fight.
...
Josh held his knife aloft, ready to strike. The soft notes hit his ears and he looked at his own hand, frost covered and clenched around the handle of the sharp weapon. What was he doing? It was too hard to swing the knife, too much work to finish the blow. He was too cold. Too tired. All he wanted to do was lay down and drift off to sleep carried by that sweet melody. He opened his frozen fingers stiffly and the knives he was holding dropped out of his hands.
Matt was pissed. He pushed himself up to his standing position. What the hell did these people think they were doing here any way? Like lullabies and snow storms were going to do anything.
“You shouldn't have come,” the blonde senior yelled at the ice manipulator, “You're making things worse. You're hurting him! I could have helped him on my own, just like I've always done. Get away from him right now!”
He clapped his hands together and the air between them rippled when he separated his palms. Small forcefields were much easier than big ones. He threw this one as hard as he could at the meddling frost maker. As soon as it was released, another formed between his hands.
Katrina saw this, but she wasn't afraid. She slowed, and stopped. Right next to the forcefield thrower, she stood and tapped him on the shoulder.
“I think you should stop. What you are doing now is not helping any...”
He released the forcefield and hit her squarely in the chest. It knocked the air from her lungs and sent her flying backwards to land in a tangled heap on the lawn.
Katrina looked up at Koga, the venom in his voice making her wide eyed. Fresh tears glistened at the edges of her grey orbs as he hissed the news that the same man who had hurt her had also maimed Koga and almost killed Ghost. Katrina hadn't realized that had happened. The little illusionist inhaled sharply at the news, her breath coming in a shudder. She didn't understand how someone could hurt people seemingly without any reason like that.
As she watched Koga speaking, she recognized something in his expression that she had never seen on his face before. His expression seemed to have hardened, as if he had resolved to do something.
>>>“He must be stopped.”
And Katrina recognized where she had seen that expression before. She shifted her wide eyed and worried gaze to Fausto's face. When they had first met they had a conversation about whether or not it was okay to kill murderers. Fausto had thought that it was okay, and later had committed a murder of his own to avenge his parents. He had worn that same expression on his face back then, and he wore it again now.
“No,” she whispered. Her eyes found Kaz's face as he leaned away from kissing her forehead. His expression was softer than the boys, since he was trying so hard to console her. But in his eyes, there was the same hardness. The same resolve.
“No!” She pushed away their hands, backed all the way up until her back was against the wall, and clutched the pillow to her chest tightly. “You can't.” She was shaking her head, blinking the moisture out of her eyes. “I don't want you to get hurt,” she took another shaky breath, unable to get enough air, “and I don't want...” There wasn't enough air in here.
“I don't want you to be murderers, too.” She was shaking again, terrified of what could happen to them and just as terrified of what this might make them do.
He put his feet on the back of the pew; was that allowed? Katrina wondered if her legs were long enough to do that, too. She's have to slouch so far down that it wouldn't be very comfortable, most likely. She slouched to try it, but sat back up straight when he did suddenly jerked back to upright again.
>>>“If we’re all made in God’s image, and we’re all a bit different, then you’d figure that maybe putting us all together, you’d get closer to seeing His face.”
Katrina thought about all the bad things and the good things that were mixed up in the world. Kids ruined other kids' sandcastles, while God sent his army marching around a walled city seven times to make them miraculously fall. There were serial killers who made patterns of their kills; God owned his very own angel of death. The green eyed man from the sewer had tortured her; God had let the devil torture Job. Humanity was like God and God was like humanity. Hmmm. This guy was pretty smart for a grown up.
“I think that the good in God outweighs the bad, and I think the good in the world outweighs the bad, too.” But then, she was a rather optimistic and somewhat sheltered individual and hadn't seen very much of the world. Katrina absently let her feet swing back and forth under the pew.
“I never doubted what I thought was the right thing to do before now.” Things were just a little more fuzzy than before. Right and wrong had seemed so simple until someone came along that made it uncertain whether he required forgiveness or punishment. Not that Katrina would be punishing him. If she saw him again the plan was to get away as fast as possible.
Such truth speaketh Abyss! Everyone is a little silly at times. We're all here for you! If MRO helps keep you sane, that is a good thing. I know it kept me sane during some of my craziest times at school.