The heroes of yesterday are dead and gone. Division and the Mutant Control Enforcement Agency (MCEA) saw to that. This dystopia we live in is the result of one anti-mutant hate crime that sparked the third world war. The law now requires mutants to register, to spend the rest of their lives being a number on a file with a tracking device on their wrist or in their bloodstream.

For a while, the children of fallen heroes started to work in the shadows as the new X-Men. Not all that long ago, the latest incarnation of the X-Men was brought down in flames by Division's efforts. Team members captured, Agents killed, Cosmic fire everywhere... It seems as though the days of the X-Men have come and gone once again. Or have they?

Notice: Human Division employees are still much needed, even if they're depowered mutants. We would also love to see more MHA, Morlock and Purifier affiliated characters.

We are currently accepting Site-Canons and Originals

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 l o s I n g my m I n d, tag; open
 Posted: Mar 4 2018, 08:00 PM


bartender 35 he/him 30 POSTS
© tues! · she/her · Offline

It was strange needing to reacquaint himself with something that so many others took for granted. The world was



Although he no longer retained the senses of his wolf form at all times, he could still recall the peace of the woods. Noises were different there. He could hear everything; he could even hear all the nothing there was to occupy his heightened senses. From the buzz of a bee on a flower and the whisper of rodent whiskers in the grass, there had been so much pleasant noise to sift through.

In the city, it was an assault. He was bombarded from every angle by the noisiness of humankind and while he reveled in it, it was deafening if sustained for too long. His brain longed for the quiet. He yearned for the peaceful white noise of the woods as much as he rejoiced in his return to humanity. So every few days, when he thought he would crumble beneath the weight of loneliness in the chaos and press of strangers in the city, he would dive deep into the woods around Killian’s cabin in the hopes of… of what, exactly? He couldn’t say. He longed for the Before. That was what he had begun to call that time before his mind had been locked away in the body of a wolf; before his mother had died and he was set adrift by grief. The During was when he was blissfully ignorant in the body of a wolf, concerned only about how he would get his next meal and where he would spend his winter. He didn’t think about the urges to join a pack, or the maddening need to find something that his wolf mind had been unable to name. In the After, he thought of only the belonging in the Before and the peace in the During.

He obviously kept all of this to himself. No one needed to hear about the Before, the During, the After or even the Right Now, to be honest. No - people had certain expectations and impressions of Holland Faust and none of those preconceived notions involved his mental ramblings regarding his time locked in his own mind in a form now more familiar than the one he wore.

Reaching up to scratch his temple, Holland crossed his one leg beneath his opposite knee - the leg that was broken was still difficult to tuck under himself. Resting his arms on either thigh, he breathed deep and closed his eyes. Someone had told him once about meditation, and he supposed this was his own version of it. No one could see the mutation as his inner ears shifted and mimicked those of his wolf form. With a sigh, his lashes fluttered but his eyes remained closed as he welcomed in the peace of the wood’s cacophony.
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