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 Martin Stein on May 3, 2009 14:54:57 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
760
0
Jul 2, 2013 5:22:49 GMT -6
>> Tell me.<< Did that kid know what he was asking for? Did he truly understand the meaning behind his words? He had put up the sign “Step with caution” with his last words. But then again such things were to be expected. He just hoped that the boy would not be too badly damaged by his answer. >> Tell me.<< Hes he would. That tone demanded an answer. It was demanding for an answer, though not through imperative that many others would have used here. Bossing people around was not his way. But why was he still analyzing?
As his eyes were hard and cold, so was his voice. Then he announced his sentence. Guilty or not guilty? That was not the question here. But more so the question whether he was right or wrong. He hoped for the former and feared the latter.
“One day you would have gotten knocked out. One day, your fears were going to come true. And then your life would turn to one of two paths: The path of self destruction or the path of destruction.”
He blinked toward the boy -no not really boy. A man Shin truly was for not choosing either of those options- And when the split second of darkness was over, the cold had vanished from his eyes. Plain and gray they lay, like a still lake.
Turning around, away from Shin he walked into the next flowerbed, the slight moment of hesitation and the wave of his hand being Shins only invitation. Roses these were, and beautiful white ones. Standing tall seemingly without support. Oh he knew some tricks this gardener might have used, but he would come back here to find out, how they had done it actually. His curiosity was not to be underestimated. And since Roses don't like standing straight up -at least not, when they are as tall as a man- he really had set himself some challenge for another day. The white and green swallowed him without any apparent resistance. Not one thorn caught hold on his clothes, even though the density of flowers was very high. Only the rustling of leaves, the nodding of touched buds and twigs, the movements becoming weaker by the second until they were indiscernible from movement in the leaves created by the wind.
Then he was gone. His nostrils filled with the heavy scent of roses, fingers only slightly touching branches to move them out of his way. Would Mr Shinbao follow?
Posted by Martin Stein on May 3, 2009 4:53:55 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
760
0
Jul 2, 2013 5:22:49 GMT -6
The humming of the dialing tone continued forever in his ears. Even when a nice female voice greeted him, the tone seemed intent on continuing. The female voice spoke. He replied. She spoke and he replied yet again. It was not really him, that was talking there. It was not real, what he was seeing here. He fell on his knees and the wetness on the ground did not bother him. It was warm and friendly. And not real for sure. If it were real then Cindy was gone. Another little mark in some statistic. So he sat in a puddle of Blood as the heavens began to voice their anger. Anger. This was the emotion that would be sufficient to fil the numbness inside him. Just a the first bits of lightning begean to strike the ground, a nameless streetworker turned into an embodyment of the celestrial fury. Only one thing in mind. Kill. Kill the Killer.
Connection terminated.
Martin moved a few steps in the general direction of Ghost. Not too much, as he did not want to seem to threaten her. He looked at her fingers again, and then at his own. The black was real. Light that was flashing overhead got ready for the crescendo it seemed and with an all drowning boom for a pickup the first hair fine strands of plasma got on their way to connect heaven and earth and-if only for a heartbeat, an offbeat- succeeded.
The Ghostly light revealed the horror in the girls face. The horror he was feeling so simply expressed, yet that it was stuck somewhere between his head and his gut for him. And seemingly not ready to budge an inch at all. But the tears kept coming and he was glad to feel moisture on his skin. Moisture not sand.
Yes, what was wrong with him. It had been for quite a while now. But could this wrong be righted? Or more importantly: Should it be righted? His head began spinning, as his world kept turning itself. The lights blurred in his vision and soon he knelt on the ground, for he had nothing to lean on.
Posted by Martin Stein on May 2, 2009 5:55:36 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
760
0
Jul 2, 2013 5:22:49 GMT -6
The fact, that someone was following him, did not elude his senses. Even in his present condition, especially in his condition, being on guard was invaluable for survival. Why do I always have to stay guarded? Why? Somehow that thought only made matters worse, as he walked a brisk pace. He was not running from the thing behind him. He would not run. Why run anyways? It was all so senseless. Another alleyways deep shadows were his destined point of arrival now. He could not go further, because doing so seemed only to increase the weight of the lump in his intestines.
So he hid in the shadows behind some nose of the wall. Carefully watching the street. Its senseless. Stop fighting it. I cant.
As a white haired girl went by, face full of horror, hands covered in greasy black he was surprised. Such a small girl would follow a man potentially dangerous to her. He had to admire her courage even if she might have more skill then met the eye. Those white hairs were fascinating indeed.
The piercing wail. The pain in those eyes. Maybe a little touch could have helped her. The touch of a friendly hand, a helping hand. He looked at his gloves. His own almost did not belong to him any more. They were prostheses, some other persons hands he had stolen.
The girl was almost gone from his view, when he managed to scramble out of the alleyway onto the brightly lid street, clothes covered in the same grime that had befouled the girls hands.
“I believe you are looking for me?”
His voice was loud and carrying. Steadfast and strong. Unlike his insides, where worms were slowly eating away. Tears were beginning to fall from his eyes. He wasn't so secure after all. Here was a thirty year old man crying on the streets. The fact that he looked younger did not make it easier on him at all.
Somewhere else a street worker was searching his assigned streets. If you wanted to call them streets anyways. The wail and the strange appearance of a girl had put him on DEFCON 1. If something made a girl stand this much on edge he would have to find out what it was.
Shortly after he found something lying tossed in a heap of rubbish.
Posted by Martin Stein on May 2, 2009 5:14:37 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
760
0
Jul 2, 2013 5:22:49 GMT -6
He inclined his head in a thankful manner toward Sam and barely looked at the isles, placing the hands on the counter. It seemed, that those books could yet wait for a while for he seemed oddly calm about the things that were happening around him. Neither did he flinch at the protester being beat nor did his pleased and unrevealing expression move by an inch. A porcelain puppet might have been moved more by the events.
What Sam was not aware of was, that he as observing the whole process of getting rid of those men and women carrying signs and shirts. Observant he was, carefully using his power with just a few glances that dragged out for him, until he could have pinpointed the location of everyone in his line of sight on a map of the store. It was just a precaution. One could never know, when people would get violent. Especially when deluded by hate and fear. The reaction of the police force was magnetically attracting his eyes too, since it was exceptionally obvious, that many of them, now escorting the protesters outside -they did not even bother to stop the chanting until they were on the streets, where they were flashing their signs in every lens there was- did not want to be in this store. Their reluctant steps and disgruntled faces made one thing terribly obvious. They were here for the sake of the law, not for the sake of their own choice. Some grips on shoulders and some shoves did even very much looks like friendly pats on the back to him.
Strangely the leader of the protest held her head royally as she was led to the door last of all of them.
“This is just the beginning.”
Her last words before being shoved outside were so drenched in acid, that it foreboded nothing good both for the shop and its visitors for the future. A distasteful image appeared in his mind. He could already see the Signs posted outside. Do not by with mutants. On every one of them the white cross. A cross that should already be crimson in his opinion.
He did indeed not move, until Sam made his last comment, which made a smile appear on his face. A thin smile. A wary smile. A troubled smile. His hands were gripping the counter tightly. If he had a tail it would be standing stiffly upright now, fangs exposed.
“I see. A good idea. Please give my regards to Miss Vega for it.”
He forced himself to let go of the counter and looked Sam squarely in the face. The gray eyes were stern. Stern and cold. Shadows seemed intent at keeping on crawling in their depths. But what kind of shadows they were?
“But by what power and right are you going to keep the peace?”
He could already see the police turn a blind eye on the protection of the shop unless they were forced not to do so. Would it stay with broken windows then, or would it continue towards fire? Shards of glass on the ground. Why did history have to repeat itself? Did they never learn? But at the same time it was blatantly obvious, that many in the store were mutants themselves. What would they do in retaliation? Sometimes that alone sufficed, to keep people on their guards. Sometimes. Wars had been started over pettier reasons then the destruction of a single shop and with the right mutants the destruction of a city was a thing easily accomplished.
“I don't see them doing it forever.”
A slight wave of the hand in the general direction of the blue clad people it was. Just a hint. Surely they had seen this coming and had prepared for the future. Surely?
Posted by Martin Stein on May 1, 2009 14:34:05 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
760
0
Jul 2, 2013 5:22:49 GMT -6
He was walking the city. Expanding knowledge, a small black beetle he must be for those looking down one of the skyscrapers, those high rises that seemed to house so many businesses that the economic situation of the country could be judged based on the vacancy rates of those bureaus above him. What might those people up there be doing, thinking? Would they look down or up? He decided, that he would have to get in one of those another day, when the shadows were not as deep and the lights in the windows were not dwindling. Yes he was a beetle, but one growing steadily.
Shadows, shadows so deep were falling – he stood by, as the shadows of the buildings made their way across the street, moving towards him, covering his feet, himself. It all happened so fast.- A simple lapses this was, but none so easily taken, as he barely noticed. Blink. The sun was replaced by the neon lights of the lanterns above his head.
He continued his walk.
He had picked himself a simple target. For today and it were not the high rises. He wanted to see into the back alleys of those streets around him and would not be deterred right now. How would the city look from that perspective? Stone to the left, stone and concrete to the right, the space in between barely 3 meters and yet the New Yorkers seemed intent on narrowing it down a little more and had placed all sorts of obstacles in his way. Trash bins and waste from the former being the most common. He looked up and the sky was only a thin line above, the walls of the houses looming over him, ready to crash down.
„My what have we found here? Looks like someones dropped us a present.“
A female voice caught his attention, as the apparent speaker rose from behind a trash bin, which seemed to be a fitting place for her in his eyes. She was wearing something that looked like a good attempt at what was supposedly female clothing of the day, the few straps of cloth barely covering her most intimate regions, yet doing so in such clinging manner, as though they were not there. She flexed her naked arms and started to walk up to him, hips swaying.
„Mymy, such a pretty surprise.“
As she came closer, tapping her finger at her chin, he gave her the most icy stare for ruining his tour of these fascinating wormholes. On the other hand she obviously was part of the tour. The thought made a small smile appear on his face. Taking a few swaying steps more the girl was within, what most people would not describe as comfortable distance any more. And she kept coming closer, her steps barely audible. The little bits of light, that were still falling on his path illuminated eyes with alarmingly dilated pupils, much to much so even for this darkened spot. Even though she tried to make up for it with what could be best described as humming sounds, a cold chill went down his spine. He did not move his head an inch, as her hand extended towards it, nor any other part of his body.
„Oh delicious you. The stiff ones are best, once loosened up.“
Before her hands made contact with his face, one of his gloved hands shot up and grabbed her wrist tightly,. His smile had turned into a snarl, while her expression was slow to change. It was as if she needed a few seconds to realize, that she was not touching his skin, but that her hand was in the very uncomfortable position of being held hostage. Her eyes – he was surprised to fiund, that that was even possible- widened with shock.
„You are despicable.“
These words were the only ones this „Lady“ would get from him, while he changed his grip slightly, avoiding the hand she shot up at his face. Her legs had shifted position for her furious attempt at getting the hostage freed, so her position was perfect and the movement came on his own accord. Before he himself realized it, he had tossed her with one fluid motion he sent her body, where her mind already was. An Uchi Mata had her flying, without him even having to use any force.
She was much lighter, then he had expected.
Looking at him from the ground she sent him a puzzled look, that changed into fury over several steps including disbelief and lust. At last she started wailing in a high pitched sound, that somehow pierced its way through to his heart. This poor girl was wasting her life and he had just made it worse. He had even reinforced her needs and desires, her insecurity that ever drove her into seeking more safety, where she could not get some. It was all plain and clearly written before his eyes. He turned around and fled the alley, out into the streets without looking back once. The sound followed him.
Posted by Martin Stein on Apr 30, 2009 9:17:16 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
760
0
Jul 2, 2013 5:22:49 GMT -6
His low chuckle was an answer to her first sentence. My this cat-woman had her share of humor. But his amusement did not last long, was blown away like a could by the winds.
“I am quite sure of that.”
A great loss it was indeed. So small minded they were sometimes. So strangely open at others. And always afraid of something it seemed. Like insects under study they crawled along with their lives and never were aware of many dangers, but to compensate inflated those they could see. If not afraid of him, then of time or death. Did he have to be afraid? Her next question was well phrased, for it required him not only to give factual information, but a great deal of information in himself. On his views of the world. He scratched his head, while a near silence unfolded, that reminded him of a little while earlier, when he came in. When he finally spoke his voice carries some odd tone. It seemed like approval?
Posted by Martin Stein on Apr 29, 2009 16:08:57 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
760
0
Jul 2, 2013 5:22:49 GMT -6
His broad smile and his straightening out were her answers. At least partially. Martin would call her. But would Martin Stein? A question for a good cup of tea and musing. Some hints of her own feelings were refracted back at her, a fractal equation, mirror cabinet. Would she dare see at the bottom one day?
Her method of selecting books earned her a loud laugh, making the clerks shoot venomous darts for glances at him. No noise here, his shoulders started slacking down, but were stopped since she didn't care either. He quickly followed suit and went around an alley, raising a gloved finger, but never actually touching the back of the books.
“Ene mene muh, raus bist DU!”
The words ware rising in volume quickly, until the last one was quite easily audible. He looked at what his price was for this high risk of getting shot at again. It was a small volume, which he then pulled out with a quick motion after some exploration of the title. The Trial had to be fitting for his new acquaintance ins some ways he found quite amusing, so he went back to her with the books resting in both his arms, like a child being cradled.
Posted by Martin Stein on Apr 29, 2009 15:56:21 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
760
0
Jul 2, 2013 5:22:49 GMT -6
How intriguing this person was. From first glance he would not have guessed the violent history. Not by far. But he was not good with these things anyways as he himself despised violence. Not having a relation with a whole concept, that seemed to be so fundamental for Shin made things much more of a challenge.
“It looks like that lifestyle may call upon you again at some point.”
He was merely stating, what he could read, read from what he got. At the same time part of him, a part, that was still clinging tightly to the morals he had been taught, or remembered them for a lack of better words, was stirring more and more. Stretching, flexing the bounds he had made.
Putting on a mix of concerned look and relaxed stance, he searched for the others eyes, gray searching for its equal.
“But why has it always to be the stress of near death that brings out the power?”
It was a rhetorical question. Being near death seemed to bring out both best and worst characteristics of a person in unity and harmony, they could not hope acquiring any other way. It was what made these moments so powerful.
The eyes Shin was looking at were hard, the color of steel was being faithful to its associated attributes.
“And if you really want to know the answer to your last question I will give it to you.”
The pale face was unreadable now. Someone had hit bullseye.
Posted by Martin Stein on Apr 28, 2009 15:17:48 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
760
0
Jul 2, 2013 5:22:49 GMT -6
As he scanned the room for a second time – the only thing of interest he found, were some people talking, who obviously knew each other, which was quite strange since it was a newly opened bookstore, and then again not since it were probably acquaintances of the owners'- he was spoken to by the man behind the register.
His eyes fixed on the man he made a dropping motion with one gray-gloved hand, while putting on a thin smile. A dismissive gesture it was. His voice sounded calm and flat, though his foreign accent was still quite audible.
“As I an quite sure you don't have it in storage I would like to ask about whether you could find me the an edition of Goethe's Faust one with English and German text. If you can't get one I would like to acquire both a translation and the original in separate volumes.”
As he spoke the name of the author he eliminated all doubt about which language was his native one, since he pronounced it without hesitation in the correct way, not even stumbling about the th, with which many Americans had trouble with.
And ten there remained the questions about these people all around him. A few answers would be nice there, too. So he kept going:
“And if you don't mind, please tell me something about this shop. What makes it special?”
Special it was one could say,as he was not entirely sure, but if he was right, he had seen the cat lady here, which he had met at the Dragon Inn earlier this week. His smile broadened. If she was here there was a goos chance, that there were others of their kind here, too. The question he had to ask himself was a different one though. Should that really matter to him?
There was a clapping noise now, which seemed intent on drawing his attention away from the clerk, -and any other attention too for that matter, for it was a clapping of hands in unison- so he let his eyes wander around for a third time yet. They found the source of the noise to be a small group of people around an elderly woman in an old fashioned dress. The interesting thing about her was not her slightly crumpled and outdated appearance though. It lay in the sign she carried around inside the store, and at which her followers were looking, as if setting her eyes on anything else would cause them harm.
It was a sign with a white cross and the words:
“For the purity of blood!”
While her companions were wearing shirts that read different slogans curling tightly around the same symbol. And all circling around the same theme. Mutants out!
He did not do so much as glance at them twice as they were obviously deluded. But they also represented a movement, an Idea. And it was that Idea that worried him.
Posted by Martin Stein on Apr 28, 2009 14:56:08 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
760
0
Jul 2, 2013 5:22:49 GMT -6
As the book made its way up in the skies time seemed to be again held tightly in his grasp. The gulp of air he was about to take was made a rolling storm about to come down on him, not only thickening the air, but also freezing a small black cloud in mid flight. His hand snapped forward, releasing the storm and there it was. It was finally laing back in his hands. He stroked the leather with a caressing touch. The skin of his life was back in his hands.
Objective achieved.
Yet there was also something more to do. He was still Martin and Martin was quite fond of the girl he faced, so he went and followed her up the stairs. And there it was, the picture of a girl floating in front of him, her presence physical; intimidating. The one reason for him to come here. It was all right in his face. His hand wandered carefully to those parts of his body, that had been burnt by coffee that fateful day. It seemed like earlier this morning to him right now. And somehow he knew that it would be like an eternity had passed a few seconds later. But that did not dull the pain. The pain in his heart.
The book was stored away securely in his pocket, while the last few steps were taken. Was he really ready for this? Martin surely was and he seemingly acted on his own.
“Uhmmm... I really don't know how to do this right, so Ill say it plainly. Could I have your number?”
Posted by Martin Stein on Apr 27, 2009 9:32:26 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
760
0
Jul 2, 2013 5:22:49 GMT -6
His look hitting the waiter was more then hard. It was cold yet so completely unconcerned, that he may even have discussed this matter -or any other for that fact- over tea, which in fact they were. The waiter might have asked himself what was driving this man to do as he did, but something in this eyes was not quite right. They seemed much older then the rest now. No boy would look at another this way. It was more like the icy look of a mother or a father saying very clearly “leave now kid.”.
Now she was angry. Argh this stupid head made him want to slap her in the face. But that would not be really smart, would it. Better slap himself for his slip. Those things had not happened since he was a lot younger. And that was what scared him. What hurt him. Hadn't he changed at all?
Somehow he must have, as a dry smile found its way on his lips at her response. So she had noticed, but not noticed the scraps he had given her as well as the one he had not given voluntarily. And that even without body language. She was observant after all. Observant and wary.
Also her response told him, that she was fond of this waiter boy. More then she would let on right now. He made a mental note of it. And of the fact where she placed herself. Bits and pieces. Not nice, yet nice to those she knew. Somehow the smile turned lighter at hearing that. He was leaving the first points to her. Note: Leaving as in giving. Sometimes he was charitable after all.
“Its sad to hear, that you do not even expect humans to carry out conversation with you.”
The distant look found its way into the voice somehow. Humans did not really matter to him, aside from the fact, that they were the dominant power at the moment, no matter, what some mutants might claim in their bold addresses. And of course they were interesting to learn from and of, but so were mutants.
Posted by Martin Stein on Apr 27, 2009 9:07:10 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
760
0
Jul 2, 2013 5:22:49 GMT -6
He was surprised, that navigation was so easy and they soon reached the entrance of the library. It was an old stone building, quite naturally having an aura of old serenity and security around it. The big double doors were opened and ready to let customer enter.
He stood outside, still somewhat away from Tyranny, keeping his distance from her. And she had finally gotten tired from the knighthood of her Saviour. Well actually she had saved him, but that didn't really matter, did it? At least not to him, he was convinced of it. Or convincing himself of it.
“Here we are. And I don't have a cad yet. Maybe I should get one.”
He was speaking with a completely open stance, but his hands had somehow found their ways in his pockets again. A smile was decorating the pale face and made it look somewhat handsome.
“And what did you actually bring here, aside from my book.”
Aside from all I have stupid. All I ever got from this freak show. And you're part of it. Congrats young one.
Posted by Martin Stein on Apr 27, 2009 0:21:23 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
760
0
Jul 2, 2013 5:22:49 GMT -6
It all fell into place. Here and there. He had been right, when he said, that nothing was different, though he was not sure, whether the cat could see that. See, what irony. Comprehend would be the better word, especially for her condition. He folded his hands tightly on the table. Yet he better not underestimate her. It was her turf after all.
And then the waiter came to refill his glass with icy water. Good timing, good service. And proof, that he had been listening to them it was. He made a grimace. This was not good. The pitcher rang as it hit the glass and the water made gurgling noises as it left it. Not good for that meant he had one other person then the cat knowing what he was.
“I just hope you can keep secrets.”
He mumbled to the waiter, surprising himself at speaking out his thoughts loud. He must be tired to have become careless as that, it showed in his voice. The calm delivery of the sentence added an (unintended) underlying threat to it. It seemed as though the words “for yourself” were missing in the sentence. It was not really like him. And it was even more unlikely that he would act on it, but the others did not know. But then there were more important matters to attend to anyways.
“Individuals such as yourself I presume.”
He had to focus on what was important right now, not on the water. He mustn't allow more slips in the delicate dance or he soon would be lying on the floor or sitting on the streets. Oh and he was presuming a lot. Time to get some answers.
“And where do you put yourself in that explanation, if I may ask?”
Posted by Martin Stein on Apr 26, 2009 5:38:35 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
760
0
Jul 2, 2013 5:22:49 GMT -6
With a bow to her he began making his way to the last few steps that kept them from sunlight, breathing heavily both from laughter and the events before. Beads of sweat had formed on his forehead and he wiped them away with a casual motion of his hand.
This girl surely was trouble. And even more so, as she was nosy. Not that he had met anyone yet that would turn down such possibilities as were presented by his life. Well he actually sen at least one person that hated him for it, but that could not be helped right? But why was he still here with that counterpart of his. The woman. She had hurt him, why not take the book and leave? Questions crossed his mind. But as she had taken it on herself to get him a job , which he was going to apply for it would be very bad taste to leave her alone just now. Yes it was only his politeness, that made him stay here. Surely it was just that.
When he reached the top of the stairs he squinted at the bright sunlight, that was shining all too brightly in his opinion.
“Milady seemed agitated, when I mentioned the watchers. Doth she have problems with them?”
He turned to the side of the road that the library lay on hopefully. It would not be all to knightlike if he started to lead her astray, right?
