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.
Her eyes strained for some sign of the teleporter in the half darkness. If he appeared, it would likely be in a shadow. She walked, turned, scanned every shadow. Across the square Sara was still managing herself. The Chinese men under her invisibility spell were still retreating into the darkness. The mist was still hanging in the air.
The first indication that the teleporter was back was the sharp edge of the shadow blade slicing into her left bicep. Silently, she gasped and stumbled out of the edge of the shadow in surprise. Her right hand clutched at the wound and her eyes widened as the half invisible obsidian blade melted into nothingness before her eyes. She put pressure on the wound, an invisible hand keeping her invisible blood from escaping. That hurt. At least the blow had found her and not one of the other invisible targets traipsing through the night.
Where had it come from? Her eyes, blurred slightly by the involuntary tears that had formed there, could find no indication of where her opponent was. An invisible predator stalked its invisible prey. She wasn't even sure which of them was which in that scenario. It didn't matter that she couldn't see him. If he was within knife throwing range, he was easily within range of her illusions.
It was about time to quit playing pretend. It wasn't difficult to imagine pain, especially with such a tangent example throbbing through her left arm. She focused on it, taking the time to really feel the burn of severed nerve endings. She imagined what it would feel like to have similar cuts over her entire body; the soles of her feet, across her throat, along each finger, inside her eyelids, cuts lining up like soldiers down her arms and legs. If the teleporter, or anyone else was within a hundred feet of her, they would now be feeling the pain of a thousand cuts all at the same time.
She didn't like to do it, and it wasn't because she could feel half of what her opponent could feel. It still felt rather violent to hurt someone, even if it was without injuries. Still, it was the best option she could see to disable someone quickly without permanent damage and still save the president's life. So sorry, shadow, she grimaced through the darkness and the pain of his blade and her own illusion.
Ten steps away and he was still laughing, then twenty. She started to hurry; her hand following the rough and sometimes wet wall. Her feet she tried to keep as close to the wall as possible. In the darkness there was no way to know how narrow the pathway was. Then the laughing stopped, which was ten times more creepy than before when she knew where her kidnapper was, for he was a kidnapper for bringing her down here and she couldn't figure out why he wanted her. She didn't really want to know, she just wanted to get out again.
Pounding; her heart, her head, and her feet beat in an erratic rhythm like a middle school percussion ensemble that hadn't quite learned to play together. A giant shadow suddenly leaped up in front of her. Katrina instinctively froze. It was a flickering grey ghost barely alive in the faintest of glowing lights. It was a thin scarecrow without a face or a real body., only a shape that resembled a sad frightened girl stretched out like the poor victim of the ancient stretching rack. It was her own shape, her own shadow there.
The light from behind was a small beacon for trouble, held aloft by the black haired merchant. He was following her. Even such a small light burned her eyes after her few minutes in the dark. It had been a mistake to look back, because now she couldn't see anything to the front, even with the slightest illumination. The darkness loomed, her head spun, the voice behind her chanted.
>>>“The bleeding little girly tried to run away; Ran-”
Run she did. There was no way on earth or any other planet she was sticking around to wait and hear the end of that rhyme. She still tried to keep her hand on the wall, but her footsteps hurried much faster now. They seemed so loud, even though she knew only she could hear them. She...
Something large and rectangular slammed into her torso and she fell, doubled over. The ground was just as hard as the...whatever she had run into. She rolled to her side, pressing against her head with one hand and her stomach with the other. Oww, double oww, and fireflies floating around in her vision. And one miniature sun bouncing toward her.
She gasped as something pressed against her neck. She couldn't breathe, and clawed at whatever it was that was pressing against her windpipe. An arm. It was holding a flashlight and choking her at the same time. The light pointed at the ceiling made the face above a silhouette without any features save for the twin flashes of his green eyes. She struggled; kicking, grabbing, scratching, pushing, nothing released the tension against her neck and within moments the green eyes, the silhouette, the arched ceiling, all was swimming in darkness again.
--
This time when she woke, it was to a white fog instead of a black one. The cold concrete pressed against her face and stomach. She tried to push herself upright, but any efforts to move were hindered by tight cords. It took her a moment to realize that she was restrained. No matter how she tried to move, she couldn't. Her eyelids fluttered open, but she couldn't see clearly. There was a bright light somewhere and someone was moving things around.
“Nhn?” She didn't understand and the puzzle pieces were not fitting themselves back together very quickly.
The tank top didn't make much of a difference to how firm he felt when she pressed up against him; it was like snuggling a brick wall with a thin piece of cotton in between. Except more comfortable than a brick wall, because he was not a scratchy texture and didn't have perfectly rectangle shaped protrusions with hard edges. Just her somewhat soft flesh against his somewhat firm flesh, and they fit together quite comfortably. She caught herself wondering if hugging him like this was still okay. They were friends, right? So hugging was allowed. This was Koga, just as he had always been, minus a limb but still the same person fundamentally. With muscles.
She shifted her weight slightly so she could look up at his face. It was very close to her own face. He had a nice nose, nice lips, too now that she could see them up close. Some girls would die to have lips like that. They were soft looking, not too thin or too full. And very very close. Err...
"What... what happened to you? If you don't mind telling it, that is," she would understand perfectly if he didn't want to share his experiences. Some things were just too hard to talk about.
>>>“The difference is, God has all of eternity to change himself. What did he give us? Less than a century, if we’re lucky.”
Yeah, that was hardly fair. The 'perfect' One took a couple thousand years to learn forgiveness and gave her fourteen years. All He had to do was not get his divine undies in a bunch about a golden calf, and she had to forgive someone who had kidnapped and tortured her. Even though she was healed now, she could still remember the fear and the pain.
>>>"There’s just... some people I couldn’t face, up there. Even if they’ve repented—once someone’s done evil by you, they’ve left a scar on you that’s never going to heal. If they do repent, where does that leave you? Are you just the ugly scarred soul in the shadow of the throne, watching God welcome your enemy? They can repent all they want, but what they’ve done doesn’t go away. Scars don’t go away."
Yeah. Just, yeah. Her scars might not be visible anymore, but they were there just the same. Flesh and bone could heal again, but there was no bandage, splint, or salve that could soothe an injured mind. Unless there was someone out there that could wall off memories and keep her mind from ever revisiting them, she was permanently scarred. Was she even the same person that she had been three months ago, when she had been unquestioningly friendly and trusting? Was she still the innocent young girl that took everything at face value and believed that every person had some measure of good in them? She wasn't sure anymore.
What had he been startled by? Oh, he'd said 'Hell'. The preacher said it in church sometimes, too, therefore in this context it was probably okay to say. Imagine that, a swear word that was only acceptable to use in a church. Not that it was a very terrible swear outside of church either.
"Is everything black and white, though? How does He determine who goes where? Everyone must have some mixture of good and bad in them, light grey and dark grey, you know?" Did she really believe the green eyed torturer had some good in him, too? Maybe he was really nice to dogs or his grandma. Or maybe not.
"If it is all greys, where does the line get drawn that separates the good from the bad? If you go by the commandments, like thou shalt not kill, someone can do plenty of evil without actually killing someone. Or there are mercy killings, like when people are so old they need life support and are dying anyway. Is pulling the plug murder, too? And executioners at a prison, is they guy that administers the fatal shot a murderer or is it the one that gave him the order to do it, or the judge or jury that convicted him, or the senator that made the death penalty legal, or did the prisoner bring it on himself? And what if you kill in self defense or to protect someone you love?" What if she had accidentally killed the green eyed mutant? Or if Slate had? Would that make them evil?
Heh, the sillies thought it was cold out. To Katrina it had ceased being cold about thirty minutes ago. The weather just took some getting used to; an hour or so lying on the top of the stone cold wall and you wouldn't even notice that you couldn't feel your fingers and toes anymore. Numb, that's what she was, inside and outside numb all over.
The one thing she did feel was a small bit of satisfaction when Luna sharply turned her head in response to the illusive whisper she had created. It wasn't that she wanted to startle the girl, she was just glad to see her illusion work the way it was supposed to; only Luna was supposed to hear it and only Luna had. The part she had to fix was that she had a hard time keeping a regular illusion going at the same time as one of the personal ones, which is how Shin spotted her.
Ah well, it was probably time to come down anyway, before she became a permanent fixture frozen on top of the wall. This school had enough gargoyles running around it didn't need a decorative fourteen year old girl sculpture as well.
The little illusionist sat up, rubbed her arms and legs to put some feeling back into them, decided that it was probably about time to put away the summer dresses and take out the drabber, more boring, but warmer winter clothes. Should have done it a week ago. Where had the summer gone?
When she was certain her limbs were in good working order (an important task to complete when one is about to walk along the top of an eight foot tall balance beam) she stood and made her way to th tree that served as her ladder up the wall. Within a matter of moments she had scampered down the familiar branch staircase and found herself next to Shin and Luna.
"Well, let's go." She wasn't cold, and those weren't goosebumps on her bare arms and legs. She was just worried about the two shivering popsicles next to her that seemed so anxious to get inside and sit by the fire that was undoubtedly blazing in the library fire place or find a cup of hot chocolate that was undoubtedly brewing in the kitchen. Or snuggle up under a blanket with a big furry personal furnace with a wet black nose. Naw, she wasn't cold. It was all them.
Posted by Katrina on Sept 29, 2009 22:26:29 GMT -6
Mutant God
1,654
2
Nov 16, 2013 12:00:06 GMT -6
>>>“You weren’t gone?”
She shook her head, still clinging to him. She had been here all along, at least physically. She just hadn't been up for many visitors.
“No vacations. I just needed to be by myself for awhile. It seems silly now, that I was keeping everyone out.” That was about as much as she had admitted to anyone about what had happened to her. She could talk about the symptoms, but she still hadn't told anyone about the cause of the disease.
He pulled away, as if he had been shocked by something. Katrina instinctively stiffened and let go of him if he wanted to escape. Had she said something? No, he was heading for a shirt. She blushed. She hadn't meant to embarrass him or anything.
“Here, do you need help with that?” She stepped closer to try and assist, but he had it mostly figured out, even one handed. Katrina kind of tugged down at the bottom hem and helped to straighten it out, but he had managed it ninety-nine percent on his own.
He was already getting used to doing things with only one arm, and she hadn't even realized until today that he had gone through such a major change.
“I... I'm sorry. You seem to be managing fine.” She bit her lip. What kind of friend was she that she only was able to offer help after he didn't even need it anymore? She hung her head and kind of shrunk into herself.
>>>“Shhhhh. Its ok. I promise. Everything will be ok.”
And with that Koga scooped her into another hug. Katrina put her arms around him again. It felt safe, to be there encircled in his embrace. Even with only one arm, he could reach almost all the way around her shoulders. She had been so stupid. How could she have thought that locking everyone out could possibly be for the best? How she had even survived without anyone to hug her back to health, she couldn't even begin to guess. She was afraid that if he let her go again she would just fall apart again.
Posted by Katrina on Sept 29, 2009 21:37:59 GMT -6
Mutant God
1,654
2
Nov 16, 2013 12:00:06 GMT -6
Katrina had never thought about it that way before, that God had to learn how to forgive. The differences between the stories in the old and new testaments made sense with that explanation. First fire and brimstone, as he said, then love your neighbor and forgive your brother seventy times seven times.
“If God has to learn how to forgive, doesn't it mean that he isn't prefect to begin with? If we are like him, that explains a lot of why we aren't perfect and why we have to learn and change and grow. He is striving to be better and so must we.”
Katrina swung her feet in her Mary Janes. If she sat far enough back on the pew her legs were still short enough to swing without scraping the floor.
Just because God evolved didn't make trying to change for the better any easier for lowly humans, or mutants, as the case may be; mutants and humans were all the same to her. Their humanity didn't change just because they had tails or could bend the elements to their will; they still loved and hated, fought and made up, went to school and failed geography tests, got married and raised families, and lived the same way humans did. And, just like humans, some mutants were bad people and some were good. They probably all went to the same heaven, if there was such a place.
Did green eyed torturers get to go to heaven, too?
She looked up at the window again, at Job with all of the sores all over his body, as if he had been beat up. “Do you think God forgives evil people, too?”
Posted by Katrina on Sept 28, 2009 22:22:24 GMT -6
Mutant God
1,654
2
Nov 16, 2013 12:00:06 GMT -6
She heard him and heard the excitement in his voice. She was about to let herself in when Koga beat her to opening the door. Her eyes took him in all at once. His lack of shirt made his lack of arm painfully obvious. She winced at that as she looked over his wound. It seemed to be healing now, where it was sewn back up again, but it was still a sight. Slightly less obvious, but no less noticed, was his developing physique. He had muscles she never realized he had before. Either he had been working out or she had been completely oblivious... or both.
>>>“I’ve missed you... Haven’t seen you in a while.”
Did that warrant a hug? Yes, she decided, it did. She flung her arms (very carefully) around him and squeezed. He smelled like hospital. He was taller, too, and not very squishy. It must have been because of all the chest muscles.
“I missed you, too. Even though I haven't gone anywhere. It's been a rough summer, apparently for both of us.” She squeezed some more as if that would make him whole again.
“I'm sorry I wasn't here for you.” Her voice was quiet, and it squeaked just a little bit. She wasn't going to cry. She wasn't.
Posted by Katrina on Sept 26, 2009 21:59:46 GMT -6
Mutant God
1,654
2
Nov 16, 2013 12:00:06 GMT -6
She had been melancholy for so long that she had become blind to the lives of the others around her. The whole world did not stand still just because one little stubble haired teen had holed herself up in her room for several weeks. Life went on whether or not she participated.
Slowly, slowly, her mother had been coaxing her back into the normal flow of life. Slowly, slowly, she was catching up on everything she had missed. Slowly, that is, until things started to hit her over the head, not too dissimilarly from a poisoned pop bottle to the back of the skull.
She hadn't realized, for example, that her friend Koga had also been spending time in bed lately. Or the fact that the reason he had to do so was because his arm had been amputated.
Katrina had practically choked on her ice cream when that topic of conversation had come up during the evening episode of Star Trek. The other students looked at her like she had to have been living under a rock not to have heard about that, but that was almost exactly what she had been doing the past few weeks. Suddenly ice cream and episodes didn't appeal to her in quite the same way they had just a few minutes ago.
A moment later, the young illusionist crept up the stairs. It wasn't like she was trying to be sneaky, just that she didn't want to wake anyone up that should be sleeping, especially if they needed all the energy they could get to heal. Outside of Koga's room, she knocked very gently on the door to see if he was still awake.
“Ryuichi,” she called softly through the door, “are you awake?” It was only about nine o'clock, but one never knew what time someone went to bed when they were confined to a sick bed.
Posted by Katrina on Sept 23, 2009 12:02:45 GMT -6
Mutant God
1,654
2
Nov 16, 2013 12:00:06 GMT -6
Now that they mentioned it, Ghost and Zephyr were close to the same size and shape. If they had shared the same eye color or hair color they could have been brother and sister. Maybe. They did share the same element, but mutations, as far as the young illusionist could tell, didn't necessarily run in the family. Her mother, for example, could split herself into to people at once and somehow manage to run both bodies at the same time; it had nothing to do with illusions.
>>>"I'll try on something if you find it for me, Kat."
Poor military uniform; Ghost didn't want to try it on either. She wasn't averse to trying something though. Back to the trunk they both went. Ghost found a rubbery shoe. Katrina pulled out what looked like a corset. It didn't look at all comfortable.
Her plea to Zephyr and her puppy dog face was not very effective. For her troubles all she earned was a look that clearly said, Over my dead body. An exasperated sigh followed Ghost's seconding the request. They were clearly defeated, unless they could find this 'black cotton Armani suit' he was talking about. Katrina dug faster. There didn't seem to be anything in the trunk that was even black, let alone a suit.
Her father had had a fancy suit like that for parties, but it was all the way back in Virginia and not likely to travel all the way up here on its own. “Accio Armani” only worked in the Larry Botter books and Katrina was a mutant not a wizard. The most she could do was make something look like Armani even when it wasn't. She didn't even know what made an Armani suit different from a normal one. She'd seen a lot of suits and to her, they all looked pretty much the same.
She dug further in, losing hope of finding Zephyr's suit, but still interested to see what else was in there. She stood up holding a long flowery pink kimono in front of her. It was much too long for her, but maybe for Ghost...
She hadn't been paying attention to Zephyr's threats to take pictures of them, so the noise of his camera phone caught her off guard.
“Hey!” She dropped the silky garment and scampered around a cardboard box to see what kind of silly expression she might have been making at the time he snapped the photo. “Let me see!”
He turned the phone toward her and she grabbed his wrist, lowering the phone to her own eye level. It wasn't a terrible photo. She'd been looking down, so it wasn't great, but altogether not bad. The quality of the picture itself was surprisingly good for a cell phone. After a moment, the display automatically changed back to the viewfinder mode, ready to take another photo. It was zoomed in on Zephyr's nose.
“Your turn.” The adolescent illusionist poked at the Select button to capture the image and the camera once again made its picture taking whirring noises.
Posted by Katrina on Sept 23, 2009 10:13:15 GMT -6
Mutant God
1,654
2
Nov 16, 2013 12:00:06 GMT -6
“I'll have a salami sandwich with mustard and pickles. Thanks,” the young teen responded to Sam's offer to be sandwich chef. If he was offering, there was no way she'd turn down a sandwich. And a juice box. Or three. There were a whole bunch in the fridge. There was soda as well, but juice boxes were not only more tasty they came with their own straw. That was hard to beat.
She set the three juice boxes on the table and settled herself on one of the stools where she could watch Sam work his magic on the sandwich fixings, then turned to Martin again. “Calley is...”
She was about to launch into a long explanation that would no doubt fail to convey the exact magnitude of the awesomeness that was her friend when someone else walked into the kitchen.
It was her mother.
“...a friend,” Katrina finished lamely. “So, mom. This is Martin he's going to be the new gardener probably. Martin, this is my mom Claire.”
Claire smiled politely at Martin by way of greeting, but she didn't have time for a whole slew of pleasantries.
“Katrina, I've been looking for you.” Uh oh. “I need to pick up some groceries and I could use some help. Would you like to come?” Her mother's tone of voice implied that there was only one correct answer to that question.
She should have stayed up on top of the wall. Her mother never would have found her there. Coming to the kitchen, that had been her mistake. Katrina smiled a half smile that was more like a grimace. It meant I don't really want to, but I will if I have to.
“Sure,” the teen reluctantly gave in. It was better to admit defeat now before things got ugly. Katrina slid off her stool and gave a reluctant wave to her two companions. “I guess I'll take a rain check on that sandwich Sam. Nice to meet you Martin; see you around.”
Katrina was never quite certain what exactly she had done to the controls. Sam took care of making sure they didn't crash and that was enough for her. The pounding, it turned out, was only partly in her head. The rest was part of the rock music that was blaring over the speakers. The little teen blinked at the flashing lights as Sam helped her into the copilot's seat and strapped her in. Wait, who was flying then, Cailyn? Or the jet could fly itself.
“Thanks,” the little illusionist managed to mutter in response to the assistance with her belt. She still wasn't sure why they had to take off so quickly. She didn't know what type of emergency would warrant such a hastily unplanned departure.
She was about to find out.
A voice crackled over the radio, interrupting the music. It wasn't a voice that Katrina recognized. “I've got some more info for you. The school is on the line for you, sir. A sister Irene from St. Augustus' School for Boys in Massachusetts.” That sounded like an orphanage, to Katrina.
“Mr. Johnson?” A warbley woman's voice replaced the abrupt staccato of the man that had preceded her. “They told me I should fill you in on the details. I'm afraid we have a bit of a situation. We thought we could manage it, but, well, we don't have a lot of resources available for this sort of thing.” She sounded unsure, and just a little bit guilty. Katrina could picture her biting her lip on the other end of the line.
Sister Irene continued, “We only have a few mutant students here. We try to do our best by them, but sometimes...” she trailed off mid sentence. “There's been an incident with one of the students. There was a fight, and I'm afraid that the boy used his mutation to hurt another of the students. There is an ambulance on the way as well, but we need assistance with Joshua, the mutant boy. We aren't certain exactly what to do with him now.”
...
The flight was very short. The other school was not far away and the Blackbird was very fast. Within thirty minutes they were touching down on the front lawn of St. Augustus' School.
Two women were waiting on the steps to greet them, both in black habits with white trim. Katrina decided that the taller of the two must be Sister Irene. She was tall and thin as a crane, and just as white. She wrung her hands nervously and couldn't seem to keep still for more than a minute. She kept pacing back and forth, shifting her weight and her eyes as if it were uncomfortable to stand or look on any spot for more than a moment.
The other woman was like a rock. She was short and plump, but undoubtedly strong. Instinctively Katrina knew that she was not a teacher that it would be wise to cross. Her face was kind, but stern. She stood solidly, unyieldingly, until they had landed and she moved to meet them halfway between the school and the jet.
“Oh thank goodness,” the tall nun exclaimed as soon as they were within ear shot.
The short nun gave Katrina a glance with one eyebrow raised and the young teen found herself straitening her posture automatically under the steely gaze. Luckily the woman turned back to Sam, who clearly looked like the leader. The teacher wasn't about to judge the team of mutants that had come to help her with her problem. Who they sent was none of her business; as long as thy got the job done they could sent whomever they pleased.
“I am Sister Bernette,” she announced with authority. “This is Sister Irene, to whom you have already spoken.” The stork nun clasped her hands in agreement and frowned worriedly over them all. “I will give you the facts I have been able to piece together from the incident this morning,” Bernette continued. “The incident began with an argument over breakfast. There was name calling involved and before we could intervene two boys had turned to blows. Joshua, the mutant boy, lost his temper and chased the other boy out into the yard with knives, injuring him severely. One of the older students, Matthew, was able to contain Joshua and the other boy has already been brought to the hospital. If you'll follow me, I will bring you to them.” She turned on her heel with military precision and the clear expectation that they would follow and walked back into the school, through a hallway, and out the back door into the school yard.
...
In the school yard, a blonde youth stood straight and tall, his back to the approaching group. He looked old enough to be graduating this year. His hands were extended, palms forward. He did not turn as the group approached, apparently concentrating.
A few yards in front of him crouched a smaller, darker boy. He huddled defensively on the ground, glaring up at the older blonde boy. All around him spoons, forks, and knives were littered on the lawn. The look in his black eyes was that of an animal that had been backed into a corner. His mouth twitched itself into a snarl. He was probably only ten or eleven.
The two nuns stopped next to the blonde boy. “Joshua,” Sister Bernette's voice was surprisingly kind sounding. “These are the people from Xavier's School. They are here to help you.”
The dark boy looked up at her when he heard his name, but the rest of her words showed no sign of affecting him. Without further warning, he let out a primitive cry that sounded almost like 'nooo' and threw himself toward the group. Around him, the silverware rose in a cloud and flung itself toward them, points shining in the sunlight.
Silverware and boy bounced back, leaving iridescent ripples in the air where the collided with Matthew's forcefield.
Posted by Katrina on Sept 22, 2009 10:23:27 GMT -6
Mutant God
1,654
2
Nov 16, 2013 12:00:06 GMT -6
>>>“What did you think of the sermon?”
The man's voice brought her from the world of colored light and innumerable questions back to the real world again. Either God didn't feel like answering her questions right now, or this man was the answers. You never could tell with a God.
Katrina looked him over before answering. He was tall with curly black hair. She couldn't pick out what ethnicities might make up his ancestry, but she had never really paid attention to whether a nose looked Italian or Irish or whatever. All she could tell was that Whomever had sculpted his face hadn't been at all shy about making his features what they were. His nose was a Nose. His eyebrows were Eyebrows. His mouth could just as easily scowl or smile. He was handsome without being a generic pretty boy like the ones in the movies. His eyes were a thoroughly non threatening brownish greenish goldish hazel. His voice was currently soft, which was fitting considering they were in a church, but there was just a bit of a growl behind it as if he had been a lion in a past life.
Katrina was unsure. Here was a stranger, the first one she had met outside of the mansion. She had learned a hard lesson about strangers, and yet, this one was in a church. Even if he did turn out to be a conniving, deceitful, evil person, she was safe here with all the people around. Surely at least some of them would come to her rescue if she so much as raised her voice. This was a sanctuary.
As for the sermon, “It was...” She paused trying to come up with the right description for exactly what it had been. It hadn't been an easy sermon to swallow, in light of recent events. It was very hard to just forgive and forget when someone hurt you.
“...difficult, I suppose. Not that it was hard to understand what you're supposed to do, it's just hard to actually do it.”
She looked down at her hands. She smoothed out her skirt, then returned them to their folded position. It wasn't that she wanted revenge or justice. She didn't want to hate the green eyed man that had abused her so. She just wasn't sure she could do the exact opposite and forgive him either. Wasn't there something in between?