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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?

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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 Heartattack and Vine, [open] +tag Egan
WINONA E. MAXIMOFF
 Posted: Apr 13 2016, 03:18 PM
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Five miles had been her tri-weekly routine whenever the weather was permitting. Winona was glad that the ice had let go its grip on the sidewalks. She'd missed the open air and the feel of the ground, the really real ground under her sneakers. The destination didn't matter. Some nights she'd run the park, others took her to the industrial district and on the rare days when she ran in the daylight, Winona tried to aim for something worth seeing. This time that worth seeing was the dawning of light as it spread over the mall of DC resurrected museums within the mall of historic sights. She could have seen a recreation in the wreck room... she had in fact run that simulation and many others of the world that was during training exercises. But too much time spent walking in the ashes of the past wasn't good for the psyche. This was what they had now. And in many ways it was just as beautiful.

Grey and white running shoes marked out a steady beat. The familiar sound of laces bouncing against leather had faded into the white noise along with the rhythm of her breath. The run gave Maximoff time to put away all of the drama of life within the Firehouse and just have a few blessed hours without having to interact or listen to the rabble of way too many personalities in one place. She'd never been a particularly awesome flatmate and having to smile and be on her best behavior, especially now was almost more stressful than going to work and putting on a false face. Here she didn't have to answer to anyone but her own lungs, heart and legs.

As she neared the end of the museum mall, she cut toward the right and back toward Fiddler's Green. Issac hadn't come back to the Firehouse that night so she gave the idea of stopping off at a vegan bakery serious consideration. Of all the X-Men, she was glad to have him on the team. He didn't bring a lot of baggage with him, she understood him better than she probably should have and it sure as hell beat going back into the fray when she was just staring to feel normal. She slowed her pace, cut off across the street to the small scrap of seclusion that was offered at a children's play park to have a drink of water. Hands braced on either side of the fountain in frustration. Some inconsiderate punk had broken the button.

Breath puffed out with ragged heat. Eyes closed as she reached out toward the greenery of trees and foliage. Winona didn't need much. The spell she had in mind was small. She stopped her draw just as she felt the first tingles of photosynthetic life mixing with her own. Pulling on the greenery always felt cleaner than the draw on people. It was easier to purge from her system, and she felt relatively normal after using this type to do her handiwork. Slowly she opened her eyes and fixed her hands downward toward the paved walk as she evoked a spell for, "Retaw"[water]

There wasn't much fanfare, no pop of light or sparkle of magic. Really, the only indicator was the smell of burnt ozone and a light thud as the bottle of water manifested out of thin air and fell to the ground. She let out the rest of her breath and bent to pick up the container. Leaning against the broken fountain, Winona twisted the cap loose and had herself a measured swallow. That's when she noticed a figure just standing not ten feet away, blatantly staring at her with his mouth agape. 'Fantastic. Just how I'd like to start the morning. With bullshit and more disingenuous smiles.' She offered one of these and had another drink. "Morning."
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EGAN N. DOYLE
 Posted: Apr 18 2016, 10:39 PM
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“Bless me, Farther, for I have sinned. It’s been a month o’more since my las’ confession.” Egan admitted reluctantly. He whispered his words, lacing them hesitantly, one to the next as so not to sound so guilty as he felt. “I feel a great weight. Of t’ings outside my control, but-“

“What is it, my son? Confess what is weighing you down.”

Oh how he longed to tell the priest his troubles. To start from the very beginning and sing of every twist and turn in the journey that led to this moment. But he couldn’t - he knew that. Egan knew just how deep into the bog he was and how one silly wrong move could endanger his mother’s life. His life, even. The Irishman was in no less a predicament in Chicago, staying under a guise to cover the criminal nature of his entry into the country. Fagan’s reach was long and there were undoubtedly eyes watching him struggle even now, waiting for him to feck up the task and give reason to end them both.

“I’m sorry. I can’ say. I wan’ to, but I can’t.” There was the inevitable pause in the Father’s reply, trying to both persuade Egan to reconcile his sins and understanding that there was a plight afoot. He added this together and felt another pang of guilt added for putting this on the man behind the screen. “I sincerely apologize, Father. I shouldn’ put dis on ye. I can only help myself for now.” Egan nodded to his own words, “For dis an’ all my sins of my past, I ask pardon of God. For his mercy endures forever.” Pale hands followed the path of the cross. “In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti.”

Egan didn’t wait for the Father to speak again. He rose from the kneeler, exiting the confessional with a motivated stride until it carried him outside and off the hallowed grounds of the church where he retook his lost breath. The guilt carried with him still. A sense of failure loomed behind it, growing all too familiar for the Irishman’s liking. Weeks had since past without the slightest lead on his half-sister and he was beginning to despair; the chances that she wasn’t in the city became more and more real each day. Had she ever been?

His pace settled some as he continued his walk back toward the rats nest of a hotel he considered home these days. The morning was still quite early and the sun had only just begun to peak over the horizon. With little desire to return just yet, Egan made a detour toward the museum mall. The sight was enough to distract his thoughts and bring him into the present. For what hardship and disaster this city saw, for the suffering it endured and kept upright, there were still beautiful landscapes and architecture to be seen. Chicago was, in its essence, alive. Its heartbeat could almost be felt in the very streets he walked on now. So quiet and desolate was the area now that Egan swore he could even hear it.

But then there were footsteps behind him. Fast, even paced - they carried someone close and then turned off.

Casting a glance over his shoulder, pale blue eyes caught the trail of a runner darting through a small thicket of tall bushes and few trees, into a park across the way. Curious, Egan thought not to follow the jogger, but rather to see the secluded garden that his attention had missed for weeks. In no such haste, he wandered through the same opening where the woman had disappeared, and emerged on the other side to find a child’s playground set in the center of a tiny square. He mused enough to smile at the sight, thinking back to his notion of a heartbeat being akin to a place like this where children could still escape to. That all changed in a matter of seconds however. There was a sudden draw in the air, like the pulling gust that he often got swept up in when this city experienced its many storms. But this was different - this wasn’t wind he could feel on the outside - it was a culling of lifeforce he recognized from a unique perspective, gathering from the ambiance around him to a source point.

Egan’s eyes darted right, following the ethereal strain in a way only he could see until they settled on the woman he’d absentmindedly followed into the park. From her hands the intangible energies flowed to a gathering point at her feet where, as if by a magician’s slight, a water bottle blinked into existence and fell to the ground with a gentle thud. The woman picked it up and twisted the top, drinking from the container as if it had simply been found at her feet without question. Caught up in trying to fathom what he had just seen, Egan failed to notice the stranger’s attention shifting onto him.

“Morning.” She chimed with a smile, though it was a distinctively forced one that the people living here seemed a little too familiar with.

“Em-…mornin’ to ya.” The Irishman tried to focus on her. While he could make out that she was smaller than himself, and not without exquisite eyes, the rest of her was blurred by a vacillating haze that gradually began to fade. It was her lifeforce, fluctuating and glowing within his ability to perceive its wavelength. This woman, whomever she was, teemed with a similar Light Egan felt was his own. “Tha’ was quite a sight, so it was.” She remained unfazed, perhaps routinely caught in some such act that this very encounter was nothing more than indifferent in her eyes. Or she really couldn’t be bothered by his shock.

Removing the slight awe from his face, Egan forced a nervous chuckle as he scratched at the back of his head. “Beg yer pardon. I wasn’ meanin’ to follow ye. I was comin’ through the park though an’, well…” He gestured toward the water bottle. “Quite a sight, indeed.”
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WINONA E. MAXIMOFF
 Posted: Apr 18 2016, 11:48 PM
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At the return, Winona noted that he wasn't native to the states. If her ears were not betraying her the guy was Irish, and not too terrible on the eyes either. Not that she was in a mood to go all bent at the knees for a soft brogue and a set of bedroom eyes. Hands replaced the cap on the disposable water bottle as she geared herself up for the art of bullshitting. Pushing off from the lean against the fountain to close the distance, Winona feigned confusion. "I've barely clocked three miles. Its not that impressive." She bent at the middle to right he laces of her sneaker as he peppered out the as predicted apologies for eavesdropping. 'At least he's got manners." she harked back at herself, her gestures keeping calm and fluid so as not to tip him off that she was in the know for what he'd obviously witnessed.

'Quick now, before he gets all up on your grill about magic and shit. Get the fuck out of here and onto your destination.' She gestured back toward the fountain as if to apologize for its state of broken. "Savages in this town I swear. Why do I pay my taxes again?" It was as if her mouth was reverting back into some form of sophomoric state of idiot sorority girl. Already this was too many things to say. 'No! You idiot! Don't linger! Aaugh! what, what, what are you doing? abort! abort!' Again her lips pressed a strained sort of smile that looked like she'd just eaten a terrible bite of something and had to pretend that it wasn't wholly dreadful.

That's when miraculously, her brain kicked back into city girl survival mode and she conjured up a perfectly valid reason to get herself back out into the main thoroughfare of the street. "If you're turned around there's a visitor's map over at the water fixture," She gestured toward the road and down where she'd just run the last leg of her journey, "Its just down this way." She wasn't pausing her step as she moved past him and back out into the almost public of the street and early morning pepper of traffic. If this guy was going to pull some mugger action (which she didn't really foresee) or if he had intentions that didn't sit well (probable, considering the blunt praise) he'd have to settle with pulling that shade out in the open.
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EGAN N. DOYLE
 Posted: Apr 19 2016, 12:33 AM
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There was soft, mindless banter. Egan was aware of that much with his ears only partially acknowledging the sound of her voice. His eyes, however, remained fixated on the nigh-invisible strands of lifeforce gradually fading around her body; wisps from gentle tendrils swayed as they receded into her core until he was left with the vivid sight of the remarkably gorgeous stranger. There was a part of the Irishman that knew exactly what he was seeing, though it was almost more unbelievable than when he first watched her water bottle materialize from air. This girl, whoever she was, coaxed the Living Lightforce as he thought only possible by his own will. It dazzled about her form even now, buzzing triumphantly beneath a porcelain veneer of skin…and spandex insulation. Like a moth to a flame, Egan couldn’t help but feel drawn to what could only be described as a beacon of Light. Still, it continued to fade - its tangible warmth cooling under her command. And then she was in motion, brushing by and leaving him to realize the cool, bitter air that Chicago boasted.

“If you’re turned around there’s a visitor’s map at the water fixture.” The woman then gestured toward the path behind him, “It’s just down this way.” By the time Egan had turned, she was already at the entrance from whence they came - one foot between the seclusion of the park and the waking morning traffic outside.

Certain that she was dismissing the encounter as having happened at all, Egan was reluctant to bid her goodbye. He was treading that line between what could be a friendly-enough exchange and a call to the guards biting into their first donuts that morning. As easy as that would be, and as appropriate as it necessitated, he called out, “Wait-…ye don’ feel that?” The question, in itself, was all too ambitious as it was ambiguous - and certainly creepy from anyone’s point of view but his own at the moment. “How did ye do it?”

There was a pause in her step and a fleeting grace that was extinguishing as her smile drew into a thin, sharp purse of lips. Yes, Egan called her out and she wasn’t happy with it. But the more he thought about what had happened he also realized that she wasn’t acknowledging the swirl of brilliance dancing around her; like she couldn’t see it. He tried to correct himself, “I don’ mean the bottle. I mean the Light. It…I swear I’m not ossified at this hour. I know wha’ I seen, lass.” He nodded confirmation, to whatever hope it might give him. “I know what it is. I know what ye’are. It’s ok.”
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WINONA E. MAXIMOFF
 Posted: Apr 19 2016, 08:55 PM
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So he wanted to press the interrogation. Wonderful. If he was Division he wasn't dressed the part. A cursory look at his hip didn't reveal the bulk of a sidearm, and it was doubtful that they'd send a lone agent out for a bag and tag at this hour. Government employees they were and unless he was some apple polishing ladder climber, it was unlikely he'd burn personal time on a hunch. No, more than likely this was one of those average citizens having a fan boy moments. It was stupid on her part not to check around more carefully before she'd conjured something to drink.

'Don't. stop. You're almost in the clear. Ignore your instinct for etiquette and keep walking. Its the city. The city has tons of rude people. Just pretend you're Kimiko or something.' The internal equating of herself to a team member that she couldn't stand, stalled her stride like concrete boots. It was true, she was about a hair's breath from being a bitch and it wasn't at all how she wanted to start her day. Lips parted as she flipped through her usual Rolodex of excuses and means of obfuscating the truth, but for the life of her, she didn't have anything to offer for this peculiar flavor.

He wasn't interested in the spell. He wasn't arguing the 'magic; he was asking about something she genuinely didn't have a ready made excuse to counterpoint. If she had to guess, he sounded like the team's old gear head Shadrach Kyle. He'd referenced seeing her work a spell with similar allusions to light and dazzle, and it was striking chords of profound nostalgia. Without meaning to, Winona was again pulling at the invisible threads, this time drawing reflexively on her own source material instead of the surrounding wells of organic energy.

"If you know what I am, you'd also know that its anything but, okay." She was side stepping from the arched ivy coated gate, back into the cover of the park. Running was still on the menu, but for the now, Nona was giving the eager beaver five minutes to get his curiosities sated. "I can't see it. I can feel it, but I paw at it like a blind man in an unfamiliar room." Arms were loose and at her sides. Her mind stayed ready to shape something more tangible than a bottle of water if the lad got twitchy. "Sometimes it lets me find something big and heavy to swing. - What I'm asking is are you giving me a reason?"
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EGAN N. DOYLE
 Posted: Apr 19 2016, 11:57 PM
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Egan knew with no uncertainty just how dangerous being a mutant was in a society like this one. Especially in this country. Irrefutably in this city. Ireland held a gracious veil over their politics on it, but at the core - at the center of every human being everywhere - ignorance inflamed a resonant fear that swelled up and gripped at their throats. The world was frightened. It had been that way for a long time now and it wouldn’t change for anytime soon. But in humankind’s violent reaction to the rise of mutants they lost control over themselves and the world descended into war. There were no true sides to pick from, it was simply every body against one another. One country at the other, a government onto the people, and them onto the smaller minorities beneath the status quo. This was all to say, the Irishman knew the look of self-preservation when he saw it gazing at him from no more than four meters away.

The woman’s attention toward the exit she’d so swiftly made for was now shunted back to their continued encounter. Egan’s words triggered a response, but he wasn’t confident that it one he wanted. As she stepped back into the seclusion of the park her hands came to rest at her sides, palms smoothly turning up as if to lift the air around her. The glowing energy that threatened to fade seconds ago was now renewed and pulsating beneath the surface of her fingertips.

“If you know what I am, you’d also know that it’s anything but okay.” Her voice cut above the buzz of the lifeforce he was entranced by, causing him to lift his head in response. “I can’t see it. I can feel it, but I paw at it like a blind man in an unfamiliar room. Sometimes it lets me find something big and heavy to swing.” Yes, she was certainly enchantingly impressive when it came to sub-contextual warnings. “What I’m asking is, are you giving me a reason?”

The Irishman resisted his urge to take a prudent step backward. The folly of this conversation had been his approach, but everything so far and in so few minutes was unplanned. Egan was merely reacting to the impulse of the energy’s draw at the Light. At his Light. Never before, not even once, had he happened upon another mutant with the gift to effect the ambient lifeforce like he could. It was true that all mutants had a unique signature compared to a human, but the levels were almost negligible against the other; like a frosted lightbulb next to a clear one. The wattage was the same, but appearance couldn’t be more different. That was all that had inspired him to talk - to acknowledge what he saw out loud. Pure, simple observation and a tongue too quick for his brain.

Egan put his hands up, a gesture to convey that he had no intention of earning a reason for her to swing the proverbial bat. “I mean ya no harm. Again, beggin’ yer pardon. It’s jus-…” He shrugged like a befuddled child, using the same faultless I don’t know logic that one did when they couldn’t admit why they had done something stupid. “Ah’m just impressed. I didn’ expect there t'be-" Stopping his use of spoken words, Egan looked cautiously behind him and to each side. His eyes turned back to her’s and held an unblinking stare as he allowed his own Light to emanate with enough energy to inspire the trademark glow his mother praised. It spanned the length of his body, a dim radiance that was not too bright, nor too faded enough for her to miss. At his crown the Light rose, casting a vestigial appearance that resembled a halo. “Anyone like me.” And then, like nothing, it was gone; faded into the green backdrop of the environment.

“I didn’ know you couldn’ see the Light.” Egan smirked wisely, “In retrospect, I imagine I sound boggin’ mad to ya. Apologies for that - it’s been a mad few weeks, so it has.” He tried to chuckle at how indifferent he made his time in the country sound. “Ye have some fierce weather here, too.” Oh how he hated the local climate - or lack thereof.

Hopefully he’d put her at some ease now. Frankly, this seemingly common occurrence had turned to the wayside and then some, so he wouldn’t have put any blame on her if she just turned and left without another word. Yet, he a little jarred by just how much he didn’t want her to. Something about the situation was beginning to feel clandestine. Either way, the choice was now her’s to make - he would relinquish fate to that decision.
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WINONA E. MAXIMOFF
 Posted: Apr 21 2016, 04:54 AM
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Half of what he was saying, filtered by his accent and the way his culture structured a sentence, had her head playing catch up. Internally Maximoff was repeating the bits back, a little slower, so she didn't confuse his meaning and exacerbate the already tense first meeting. "If you don't stop apologizing I might have to buy you a coffee for being entirely not an asshole."

Seeing the energy that fuelled life working over another person was always a jarring experience. She'd experienced a variation of this power in fringe encounters. The closest analogy being in an EMT she'd worked with to rescue a little girl from an apartment fire. He'd made the mistake of trying to replenish her depleted energy with some of his own. For Winona it had felt so jarring to have that much unfiltered foreign energy running through her, she likened it to feeling like there was a bird trapped in her ribcage.

It was different when she pulled on it herself. And in that moment, the feeling of rapt attention and mouth agape awe was not just the Irishman's to experience. Winona should have asked first. It wasn't just rude of her, it was dangerous. She knew better. And still it happened. As quick as an open window breeze can unexpectedly snuffing out a candle, she'd pulled at the light that was dazzling around the strapping Irishman. It wasn't intentional. Winona hadn't even raised a hand to the action; she drew on it in tandem with the gasp of awe at its luminosity.

The bright, intangibility which drew to her effortlessly, only lingered over her skin for a heartbeat, but it was like touching something out of myth. It was what she'd always imagined when stories of magic or imagination were written out in fictional prose. And despite the burning need to use what she'd stolen, for the first time in a long, long while, her magic didn't seem so dangerous. "In omnia paratus" The spell didn't come out in her usual backward-nonsense-drabble. It wasn't in English either. But the intent was there along with her inventive. But instead of working the spell with a quick and dirty, this one manifested like a Polaroid snapshot developing in the frame.

The tall charcoal umbrella that Winona had pictured in her mind's eye stood on point for a moment, balanced perfectly at Egan's front and arm's reach. And when it clattered to the ground, it matured into something that was in fact very real and permanent. Winona let go a breath and leaned her back against the neighboring tree. She felt a little off, as par for the course when she worked her x-factor, but it was a light sort of exhaustion, easily cured by caffeine and food.

She worked a lopsided grin at the corner of her mouth, gestured in the direction of the gift, and moved to make an inside joke by bringing her finger to the tip of her nose to waggle it back and forth. "So you can be ready for anything. - And its Winona. Nice to meet you."
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EGAN N. DOYLE
 Posted: Apr 24 2016, 10:07 PM
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Time spread like a blanket thrown between them, capturing the two in a moment that seemed paused from everything outside. Egan contemplated the odds, his mind unreeling the folds like they were pieces of film caught in a projector. He could see every second from when she passed behind him to where he found her now. Seconds spelled out the mistake in his approach, but the shared Light implied the scenes that were to come still. He hesitated to say anything more, his eyes not letting go her form as she stood before him. His Light surfaced for but a fraction of that instance, yet when it showed itself he could feel the immediate pull she drew upon it. The experience, though abrupt, was not unwelcome to the Irishman. It served as both the impasse they saw, but also the connection they would share.

When Light faded and reality set in, Egan looked no less at the woman before him and watched those same invisible tendrils leach at his power as if they were gasping for a rain cloud in the desert. The woman was surrounded by her power, either acting involuntary against its nature or within reason of its capability. As it faded from his body he felt the draw cast in her wake, like a flame sucked into the vacuum of space. It lingered in the air for only a moment, snapping at the abundance of energy and casting it back into herself instinctually as if it were a pool of warmth in the coldest night.

“In omni a paratus.” Her words, no matter the language, felt natural as they fell against his ears almost unrecognizably. Truth was, Egan didn’t know if she was prone to attack or submitting to a draw between two like forces. He felt relief solely on instinct that persuaded him to make no action against her.

This was proven right in the next few seconds. Blue, celestial eyes were drawn down from the stranger to a more bizarre experience occurring at his feet. From nothing material was constructed, stitched together by fabrics he couldn’t see, nor fathom. An umbrella took shape; to his surprise, it was unfamiliar, yet no less discernible as if seen in one of the stores he’d passed on his way. The object called out to him, but he waited for it to fall and clatter to the ground in order to confirm its authenticity. Yes, it was as real as the woman standing adjacent to him. As much a mystery, yet so plainly clear - he was in the presence of someone truly spectacular.

His hand reached out, missing the handle by seconds. When it struck the cold surface and confirmed his suspicion, Egan looked back up. “Unreal.” Despite his words, the Irishman believed everything that he’d witnessed. There wasn’t a question to be asked about what she was, but rather in what she was capable of. In his time, he knew the Light could work magic against the mortal and mutant soul, but this phenomenon brought knew understanding that begged to be petitioned. Reaching down as if he’d dropped a penny, Egan plucked the umbrella and held it firmly in his hands. He examined it, turning it sideways and around to confirm the realness of its existence. When he doubted no more, he looked back up to the stranger with a smirk - relaxed in a way that he shouldn’t be. “I don’ even know what to say…”

Whoever she was, she was brilliant. Of all the mutations Egan he encountered before hers, he’d never witnessed something so sublime in origin. While he identified the familiarity in its origin, her gift was so vasty separated from his own that it couldn’t possibly be linked; quite opposite as he’d thought, really.

“Egan.” He replied dryly, as if his lips became parched surprise. “Me name’s Egan.” Blinking back to the beautiful stranger before him, “And it’s a pleasure to have met you, Winona.”

Throughout his short time in Chicago, Egan hadn’t yet seen a mutant openly use their ability. He knew with no uncertainty that they were here, but the States had surely shown a turmoil that stunted its acceptance still. Ireland was not entirely dissimilar, but there was still a lot to be appreciated about his homeland’s tolerance for it whereas this country seemed to shun it.

“Thanks.” These were the only words the man could muster without seizing before the seeming doubt he should hold. “About that coffee though…” Admittedly, the slightest of satisfied smirks played across his face like a bad tell in poker. He wanted to know more. He wanted to know her more.
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WINONA E. MAXIMOFF
 Posted: Apr 26 2016, 11:27 PM
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It was incredible. Winona lived in a world that moved pretty fast, with many twists and cul-de-sacs, but this was far from expected. Normally when she met someone that abruptly found out that she was a mutant it went about as well as a fart in church. Never did it yield positive feedback and smiles so broad that it winked the corners of the discoverer's eyes. Never did she find herself wanting to extend the time and make good on expanding those interpersonal skills... at least not for a long time. Now she was here, almost feeling flirted with and it was all she could do not to feel the head spins.

"Don't stress about it. I was just as laconic when you caught me being a moron about three minutes ago." She nodded in the direction of the gate before leading him out and onto the sidewalk with a smile. The coffee shop that was nearest had terrible baked goods, so she aimed for one that was further off, where any decent native of New Orleans would have felt at home. If she wasn't going to Issac's place, Winona wanted to spend her money and calories on a real-deal beignet and some coffee with chickory. "So I hate to be cliché, but what's a nice guy from Ireland doing in a town like this?"

Tommy Hadley. The last time she'd felt this blindsided by a guy other than Summers it had been Tommy Hadley. Football player about six foot four who'd run into her in the middle of the dorm buildings at her college. Literally, ran into her and knocked her and her sorority sister into the grass and then carried her like a fireman to the first aid point because she'd skinned her knees and twisted an ankle. Egan wasn't six four, in fact he was only about an inch taller than herself, but he still managed to project himself as larger than life with his cavalier attitude.
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EGAN N. DOYLE
 Posted: May 1 2016, 01:34 AM
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Holding the tenuous handle in his grip, Egan knew this moment would be one he looked fondly on for years to come. He had never been a romantic by nature, but there was a beautiful magic in their exchange; one he couldn’t yet fathom, but no less real than the umbrella he was holding. Again his eyes were drawn down to it. His thumb traced the fringes of nylon at the base, a tactile truth of its existence against fading doubt. For just a second, the Irishman forgot what a mess his life was. He appreciated the reprieve though. The stress written on his face lifted, lips curved in a boyish smile, and pale blue eyes rose to the source of his distraction as she slid by and motioned him to follow.

Egan carried a faster pace until he joined in the walk at Winona’s side. The umbrella followed in tow, clicking at his heels with each step. It blended and looked almost intentional. The clouds were a darkening gray, and while it wasn’t raining, the skies looked ready to make good on the storm reportedly coming. No passerby would suspect that the item was only minutes old.

“So I hate to be cliche…” The Irishman instantly chuckled. He knew the question before it would leave her lips. Egan cast a smirky glance, ready to answer what remained unspoken. “But what’s a nice guy from Ireland doing in a place like this?”

“Oh, I heard it’s a lovely spot for holiday, so I did.” His soft, muted laughter revealed the jest. He considered telling a bit more of the truth, but it remained that they only met minutes before. Egan really knew nothing about his new companion, though perhaps not so little as she would want him to discern. It was a lofty balance that he weighed in an instant; whether to say something worth talking about or pass it off as mere happenstance. “You think I’m nice, do ya?” Another chuckle and glance stolen in her direction. “Aye. Yer not so bad yerself. And t’anks for not hitting me upside me head with this.” He gestured to the hand controlling the umbrella.

With pleasantries shared between both, their walk continued to a different section of the city. Egan was unfamiliar with this borough and realized there was still plenty of ground he had to cover in his search. It was a daunting recognition that took him out of his space for a breath. Looking around at the buildings as they shrank further from the downtown metropolitan, there was a noticeable difference in culture beginning to paint the street. The morning sun was higher now. People were starting their days, raising shades, and opening shops. Children were on their way to school, stopping at the bus stops peppered every few blocks. Things seemed less cold and gothic, and more affable. The store exteriors appeared weathered, but vibrant. The spirit transformed from one of indifference to something more like a community brought together. Life, even just outside the urban heights, was brighter.

“Well by comparison, you’ve damn near brought me ta Pleasantville.” Egan sounded lighter, continuously looking left and right. “Shouldn’t you be on yer way ta work too?” It was curious - Winona seemed to have time on her hands. She wasn’t just walking him to the nearest coffee shop, but somewhere else that she must find worthy of the effort. He was happy if that were the case.

But happiness soon faded. Egan didn’t see it coming until they were already in sight of the government checkpoint separating this district from the next. Winona was walking in stride, not confounded by the anxiety he felt swelling in his stomach with each step. He lifted the umbrella to his side, hands placed into each of his two pockets. Egan kept his head down, but kept his friendly grin when she looked over.

“Em, so just where is this place” The Irishman tried to sound unvexed. “Is it much farther still?”
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WINONA E. MAXIMOFF
 Posted: May 7 2016, 03:31 AM
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VERVE

LIBRARIAN TWENTY EIGHT She/Her 531 POSTS
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"Chicago?! Oh honey... were you ever scammed." Maximoff was chuckling at the idea of coming to this godforsaken place for any reason that resembled recreational activities and found that the more she dwindled on it, the more the infection of laughter took hold. It was hard not to like Egan straight off. It wasn't just the accent, or the fantastic gift for her eyes, it was the whole damn thing. The lad was comfortable in his skin, funny, hell even the way he gestured about pulled at the incognito vigilante's baser instincts. It was as if she'd known the guy for years, and she had to wonder if it was kismet, or the similarity of x-factor, or just reincarnated souls bumping into each other for a second lifetime.

She opted not to comment on the so you think I'm nice remark, but instead she shot back a non-verbal of poking her tongue out and addressing the compliment with a hint of self deprivation. "I wouldn't jump to any conclusions as of yet. For all you know I've got myself a collection of habits that'll have you wishing you'd never heard the name Kirk. Its true, what you're likely to hear. I do steal all of the blankets and I have zero reservations about using up the hot water when I'm in the shower." She took a chance to glance over again to see if he was taking up the bait and enjoying her dark humor. More often than not, Nona's brand of jokes fell flat and left the audience scratching their heads to winder about a pop culture reference only she understood, but she was going easy on him at first. No need to show all of her weird-o geek girl cards straight out the gate.

Fortunately, everything that passed between them lacked the usual flavor of awkward that was ever the obstacle for Verve. Either she was getting better at this how do you to rigmarole or Egan was just that damned good at being polite. Regardless, the walk through the city toward the destination of fantastic coffee and breakfast indulgences just blossomed into something that likened a movie scene. The back and forth came to both of them so easily, it was like getting caught up in a book long past the hour you promised yourself was bedtime. When they came into the spread of changing landscape and funky independent shops that marked the start of Wicker Park, all of her reservations about Egan had fallen to the wayside. He'd even figured her out enough to throw in his own brand of outdated referencing by noting that the area reminded him of Pleasantville.

"I have the day off..." It was on the tip of her tongue to obfuscate this branch of her life to the guy, as was her usual fare with people who knew what she was. But she'd read the man for what he was, and a threat he wasn't. "...and its winter break so I don't have any classes right now." Her walking partner had gone quiet. At first she was wondering if it was something she'd said or if he was looking for a polite way to get their impromptu outing to come to a close. It wasn't that much of a stretch for reality to come crashing back down on a person after the shock of seeing another mutant grew stale. Maybe he was the one that needed to go and was looking to vamoose without hurting her feelings?

It was enough to make Winona pause her step and reach out her hand to brace at his bicep. Head tilted to the side as she pushed some questions at the odd change of body language. Nona had given her share of false smiles and Oscar worthy performances to recognize that he'd stepped out of what had been his natural state of being and into a falsehood. "Its just a few blocks past the checkpoint station. But.. if you've got somewhere else to be, or I've, predictably, managed to put my foot in my mouth..." She was bending herself a little so that she could search his piercing blue eyes with her own sage return. If she had in any way made him discomfited, Winona needed to rectify that slight and then some.


sorry to leave you with zilch to go on. I just didn't want to god mod anything
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EGAN N. DOYLE
 Posted: May 10 2016, 11:19 PM
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EGAN N. DOYLE

IRE, FORCES 29 He/Him 71 POSTS
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Blue eyes lingered on the checkpoint ahead of them. Seconds felt like they melted into tense minutes, but still their steps carried them swiftly forward. Egan shrank into himself, like a child scolded in church. It wasn’t his intention to become so quiet next to his new friend, but he was facing a fear he didn’t think to consider up until this moment. He was a registered mutant in Ireland. Or he had been, at least. There was a card and everything to prove his legitimacy. But here, in Chicago, not even that folded up piece of paper could verify his whereabouts. The trackers inside of him were disabled, or so Fagan had sheepishly prated, but the theory was too unsafe to test. One cross look from any of those guards could see his immediate deportation from the country, and his mission failed. Frankly, that was actually the best case scenario.

Winona clutched at his arm, jarring Egan from his thoughts and bringing him back to the present. His face found hers looking concerned and guilty, like she was to blame for his sudden souring disposition. “It’s just a few blocks past the checkpoint station. But…if you’ve got somewhere else to be, or I’ve, predictably, managed to put my foot in my mouth…” Egan shook his head ’no’ immediately. A hand came to settle over her’s on his arm, holding it gently in place. It was quick, but intimate still. A moment he perhaps hoped to share under different circumstances if they got that far. But to any passerby near them, the two looked like a young, maybe even new couple. For as genuine as the Irishman meant it to be, the distraction was working in their favor right now. “No, no…Lord, no.” His voice was a quivered, hushed brogue close by her ear. “It’s not you, Winona. It’s…em.” Egan gestured his head toward the checkpoint. “I’m…” He could only shrug and hope she understood.

Keeping her fingers intwined in his, Egan led them off the sidewalk to a bench outside one of the stores nearby. He sat with his back facing the small station of soldiers and released her hand - almost reluctantly. He didn’t want to say it just yet, but her company was a delightful twist from what he imagined his day to be. They struck it off during their walk, keeping up conversation unusually well for two people who’d almost brawled not twenty minutes earlier. It felt so bizarre, but Doyle felt less like he was getting to know Winona and more like he was remembering her. In all his time, this sort of connection he’d never experienced. It was refreshing; renewing, even. Egan cursed the checkpoint for ruining what was brewing between them and hoped it wasn’t coming to a dead end.

“I’ll understand if ye want to part ways ‘ere. But, know it wasn’t you making me uncomfortable, yeah?” The same blue eyes now settled on her. His words conveyed the truth, and logic that she should ought to follow, but his eyes - well, they weren’t singing the same tune.
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WINONA E. MAXIMOFF
 Posted: May 12 2016, 11:26 PM
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VERVE

LIBRARIAN TWENTY EIGHT She/Her 531 POSTS
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© NERYS · She/Her · Offline


"I might not be making you uncomfortable, but you might be after I've done what I have planned to get you out of this pickle." Winona hadn't spent all those years being off grid not learning a thing or two about working the angles. If she was reading the situation correctly, Egan lacked the necessary paperwork to get through the Division checkpoint. So with a little inventive thinking, which was frankly the basis of her spellwork, Winona was swiftly hatching a plan to get the two of them not just into Wicker Park, but to solve his traveling problems within the city of Chicago for good.

While she spoke, she kept her eyes fixated on his face. She studied his features, his eye color, the shape and contours of his jawline and judged his height and weight in her mind. He was keeping direct contact with her hand as she did this, so all the while she drew upon the potent source of life energy that was abundant within the fellow mutant. For most people, her drawing of chi made them tire and grow almost drunkenly sleepy. She hoped to keep him from feeling too much of a drain as she pulled at his center of being and quieted her thoughts to make the much more complicated spell come to fruition.

"Whatever happens. Keep your poker face. If this doesn't work, you might need to get me out of here so I can hole up and rest. What I'm about to do is very ...layered." She shifted herself closer to him on the bench and tried to ignore the dig of cheap planks digging into her backside. Her eyes widened, to reveal more of the green and amber flecked irises. Breath drew in slowly as she fixed all of her thoughts on the intended goal and with a whisper of words under her breath, she pooled the collected energy that was burning up and down her arms and chest into a concentrated spot between their hands.

"Drac tnedi sutats namuh" [ human status ident card ]

Fingers flexed a little as the sliver of laminated plastic bisected the space between their hands. Winona let go her breath and panted a few more. her heart rate had dropped and she felt the first sign of tired hitting her like a tidal wave. Lips curled into a small upturn. It felt as though that run was more like twenty miles now in the aftermath of pulling a trick from her sleeve of this magnitude. "Did I get the picture right?" her voice had caramelized. She cleared her throat of the tickle and tilted her head down to have a look at the creation. Hopefully she'd gotten the stats right. Winona had no doubt that if they were stopped it would scan through properly, even if it didn't have his actual name on the thing. What worried her more were the nuances like the photograph, the height, the weight...
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EGAN N. DOYLE
 Posted: May 13 2016, 12:46 AM
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EGAN N. DOYLE

IRE, FORCES 29 He/Him 71 POSTS
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Her words spoke more like a riddle than anything logical. There was a hint of mystery. Traces of intrigue. Egan’s eyes narrowed in confusion. What he did realize however, was her tone. It was comforting and understanding. His hope that she wouldn’t run had been acknowledged - embraced even. Winona accepted his lie point blank as if she could even relate. The Irishman felt a little less helpless, so he didn’t fight the faint curl of his lips as they pulled into a grin. “Just promise t’visit me in the clink, so you will?” It was a moment of uncertainty, to say the least. Egan had to laugh to keep from crying, so to speak. He lowered his head, seeing their fingers still touching on the bench’s surface. There was no conjecture about the gesture. It was nice to have a connection.

While his mind reeled with these questions and more, the woman sitting in front of him initiated a plot that he had no concept of. He could feel Winona’s eyes settling upon his face as if there were a tangibility to her gaze. It was the swift pull from his energies that stirred his attention though, forcing his head to prop upright. Birthed from where their hands still met, she siphoned the Light from his body. The reserves he stored evacuated from his core without permission, commanded by the same authority he knew brought the umbrella to life from nothing. Resistance rose instinctually, but the whole of their experience thus far spoke to a trust he chose to embrace instead.

Egan remained still on her instruction - and somewhat in fear of what she might be conjuring He watched the witch work her craft with only a few words. There was the briefest of thoughts in his mind that pondered how something so incredibly complex could appear as simple as rain dropping into her hand. But once again, the Irishman was awestruck when the laminated identification card stitched itself together from nothing but the ether. So perfect and clean, its immaculate condition might still lead to their questioning, but that seemed easy enough to dismiss. A reissue, simple as that. He plucked it from her fingers and examined the item with fervent disbelief. “Un-fecking believable…”

“Did I get the picture right?”

The Irishman hardly heard the question above his racing ideation, but when he did he perched a glance back up. “Heh? Oh! Right…em.” Eyes raced back to the object of his simmered fascination. Height, weight, country of origin…it was all reasonable. His photo was pristine, too, cast in his likeness so that no one could object. “Winona, it’s bloody perfect.” And then his eyes caught it; the one detail he overlooked the first and second time he examined the ID. “Paddy O’Brien?” The question was said more in a muffled laugh as he tried to keep his voice down. “It’s a bit on te’ nose, don’t ye think?” Egan snickered. “But, it’ll do. It’ll do quite well.” Another beaming smile, like a child ushered into a candy store. “Thanks, luv.”

It was only then, as his reserved excitement finally began to fade, that Egan noticed her fatigue. Winona’s complexion seemed paler than it did a moment ago. Her breathing was heavier. And despite the smug and proud grin etched into the corner of her face, her victory - and his - came at a cost. Suddenly Doyle became much more aware of how her powers worked and what price she paid from their use. Where his body generated and absorbed an abundance of lifeforce, she converted it, but there was a strain to process such an event. Egan hardly felt the effect on his constitution. He reached over and took her hand into his once more. Without an exchange between them, the keeper of the Light transfused just whispers of his stores onto her. It was slower and subtle; kept discrete so that the aura around him wouldn’t blaze in any such glory as he had shown before. But it moved through him nonetheless, acting like a shot of mutant B12; just enough to bring some color back to her cheeks.

“Yer quite the woman, ye know that?” Egan beamed to match Winona’s smile, one still featured on her face like a movie marquee. “So…about that coffee though.”
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WINONA E. MAXIMOFF
 Posted: May 13 2016, 10:07 PM
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VERVE

LIBRARIAN TWENTY EIGHT She/Her 531 POSTS
APPLICATION SHIPPER
© NERYS · She/Her · Offline


Winona's smile, the one which simply refused leave her face was dopey and genuine. The raven haired practitioner looked almost drunk, and it was no wonder with the detailing that had gone into the small piece of faux identity. "Sorry about the name. It's hard to keep all those details-" Teeth flashed at the feeling of foreign energy being introduced into her system. Frame was stiffening up and the hand that wasn't touching lifted with a tremor of protest. "Stop. stop Egan. I can't." She was whispering the words under her breath and trying to keep a poker face as she was the one facing the checkpoint booth and the uniformed MCEA guards in and outside the booth. But it was impossible to keep her eyes from rimming with moisture.

For her the sensation was like sneezing backward; getting punched in the sternum; salt water in an IV line.... Thankfully he'd only pushed a little breath of life into her system instead of that time with Ryan Gabriel -when she'd felt her whole chest cavity burning like she'd just drunk a gasoline and drain cleaner cocktail. Again it hadn't been the other guy's fault, it was only natural for other mutants with healing or energy based powers to want to use them to help her rebuild her reserves. She should have told him more about how her gifts worked before, when they were in the park.

Leaning forward she let go his hand to come up and grip at the Irishman's shoulder and the back of the bench. "Just help me get past the gate. IF they ask, I have low blood sugar." She was blinking away the moisture that had come over her eyes like a histamine attack, and looking aside to keep from spotting the guilt that was likely all over his face. Fatigue had a way of making her get emotional. Spotting regret and empathy on Egan's face might just make her lose it and right now, Maximoff needed to keep her shit together.

While they walked arm in arm toward the turnstile, she mocked a yawn and leaned herself against his shoulder. "Tell me again why I thought getting up at this hour to go on a run was a good idea?" she was talking louder than was needed, but kept herself mindful not to even look in the direction of the guards on post. As far as they needed to know this was just routine bullshit for the pair; something about as inconvenient as a trip to the post office to mail a letter "I think I might just buy our apartment a treadmill when my tax return hits my checking account." She was fishing in her small backpack, clumsily for her wallet, hands working with all thumbs movements to pry the folding leather open and get her IDENT out to shove into the card reader.
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