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Jan 12 2018, 08:18 PM
Celebrity Claim- Ezra Miller
19Date of Birth-
X-Men Blue, arrived July 2010Occupation-
Currently unemployed (again), looking for a part time job
Mark Sheppard is a man who cannot make up his mind to save his life. He's known to be incredibly flaky when it comes to decision making, almost as though the idea of devoting his attention and committing to something frightens him. Most assumed he would have grown out of this as he approached adulthood, but sadly little progress was made. He's spent most of his teen years in a state of flux, drifting from one thing to the next without being able to stick with much of anything. In fact, one of the only things that's remained a real constant for him are the X-Men and the relationships he's forged there. With all of that said though, he's not a bad person at all, and his heart is always in the right place. He cares deeply for the causes he chooses to fight for, and in all reality, the X-Men are the realest and most stable things to him.
When it gets down to brass tacks though, if it comes down to X-Men business, he becomes all business. He takes his duties to the school seriously and if the Professor or any of his fellow mutants require his assistance in any way he's there through the thick of everything. He's been told multiple times if he could apply the same kind of loyalty and devotion to other aspects of his life he would have a much easier time, but he still hasn't been able to really grasp the concept.
He is thankfully able to make friends easily and possesses an insane amount of charisma with the added bonus of knowing how to apply said charisma to most social situations without much effort. Mark is a very laid back individual and prefers to watch the world turn around him rather than participating in the hectic rotations of the planet and the people that occupy it. He's a fairly easy person to talk to and he prides himself on being a good listener, even if he may not always be able to give good advice. He's a deeply caring individual, and is not afraid to offer assistance whenever he sees someone in need. This quality extends far beyond simple everyday tasks as well, and it's not uncommon to hear of Mark taking care of someone when they're sick or going through a rough patch. He isn't afraid of or repulsed by the ugly parts of caring for someone, and that stems from a childhood full of taking care of an alcoholic father.
He was voted the biggest flirt in his class when he was still in school, and this hasn't changed about him at all. He will charm almost anyone he's remotely interested in, which has left a trail of short lived relationships and flings in his wake. He knows he's broken a few hearts along the way, but he's never felt ready to settle down and start something serious and he's always upfront and honest about that. In fact, honesty is another one of Mark's redeeming qualities, he's never really seen the point in lying to people when it comes to feelings and everyday life things. Likes-
- Music (all types)
- Girls (all types)
maybe guys too, he doesn't know anymore
- Fresh cookies
- Going on walks
- Smoking (no, not cigarettes)
- Indian food
- Kissing, seriously he can't get enough
- Afternoon naps
guys that get too serious too fast
- Dry toast
- Bus trips
- People who communicate in only emojis
- Horror anything
- Sleeping alone
- The dark
- Scratchy blankets
- Incredible focus
- Great sense of humor
- Lacks motivation
- Afraid of the dark
- Tends to be too laid back
Acoustic Eclectic MimicryDescription-
Mark's powers are incredibly unique in the sense that they are so diverse. He possesses the ability to essentially use different types of music to give himself powers, with different effects surfacing depending on what style of music he is currently listening to. He is in full control of his current powers, though if a new ability were to crop up he would have to train that ability in order to fully harness it. He acquired his abilities at different times, and though he finds it simple enough to reign in a new power when it crops up, there is a learning curve that requires him to fine tune the small nuances and quirks a power comes with before he can use the power in an active situation. This also means, if a new ability surfaces, he will not listen to that genre of music until he has that power under his total control, for fear of accidentally using the power associated with it.
Mark's current list of powers, from oldest to newest includePhotokinesis
- The first power Mark ever knew he had, was the ability to create blinding and flashing lights. It's not an offensive power at all, as the lights create no heat or any kind of force, but they are versatile enough to provide a temporary light source as well as create a disorienting distraction. The lights do not stay for longer than several seconds, so he cannot maintain them constantly but his is able to create them one after the other and in quite rapid succession. While he cannot make them stay for long periods of time, he can control their intensity and even their color, though he has trouble making the lights pink for some reason.Force Fields
– This power emerged shortly after Photokinesis, and is one of Mark's favorites to use in combat situations. Mark's force fields are quite useful and efficient in providing cover for himself and his teammates, as well as being capable of a few more out of the box functions. The fields themselves appear as translucent blue with a soft glow to them, so it's always obvious when he's using them. The most impressive thing the fields are capable of is forming a protective dome around a small area with Mark at the center, with the highest point of the dome reaching about six and a half feet high and the dome expands roughly five feet on all sides. Depending on the size and height of the people he's trying to protect in the dome, they may or may not have to stoop down or even kneel to be protected. More commonly though, Mark will form smaller shield like constructs and use the fields that way, as this method requires less concentration and allows him to be mobile. The force field is not impervious to all damage however, and repeated hits from anything like high powered guns and heavy blunt damage will shatter them, though Mark can usually tell when the field is going to break long before it actually does. If he is not making a dome, he is capable of making two fields at a time. These fields can also support weight for a brief period, and he has used them as makeshift platforms, though significant amounts of weight will shatter them. Mark has also experimented with incorporating his force fields into hand to hand combat, using them to strengthen blows and add extra padding while blocking oncoming strikes. Flight
– This power is probably Mark's all-time favorite, because let's be real, flying is awesome. Mark's top flight speed has clocked in at around 200 miles per hour, so he's not incredibly speedy and his flight is not great for long distance travel, but he enjoys it greatly. It's the power he had the easiest time getting a grip on, but he thanks the multiple people at the school that also fly, without their assistance he probably would have had a much tougher time. When using this power, his body goes through several changes, which are invisible to any observer, but Mark feels a notable difference. His body lightens considerably, and his inner ear adapts to be able to handle the sudden changes in pressure and altitude. His lungs and respiratory system adapt to be able to take in more air and handle the high speeds he achieves during flight, his eyes however, still need protection from the harsh winds he encounters and he needs to wear a pair of goggles to protect his eyes. While his body adapts to be better for flying, he's not immune to the effects of significant impact, and he needs to be careful not to hit anything, or let anything hit him, while he's in the air.Concussive Blasts
– This is the power Mark relies on when hand to hand combat isn't an option. These blasts are a good alternative when his force fields are proving to be ineffective or impractical, or when he just flat out needs to finish a fight by pure dominating force. These blasts manifest themselves as an aggressive and bright fuchsia aura around his hands that shoot off into bolts of concussive energy at Mark's command. There is no recharge time to speak of, but he cannot fire the blasts as a continuous beam, they can only come out as quick bursts. The blasts are pretty damaging in force, able to knock a normal human off their feet and into serious pain with just one hit, and the heat they give off is enough to cause burns if someone is hit multiple times with them. This does not indicate that the blasts are fire or radiation related, but the pure energy they are made from does produce heat. While these powers are active, Mark is still able to use his hands with no ill effect from the aura surrounding them, he can still touch people without hurting them and has full function, they just happen to be glowy and surrounded by an agitated looking energy. These blasts can be used to wear down defenses with repeated attacks and can break through some steel and other sturdy materials, but they aren't all powerful and there are things that cannot be damaged by his blasts, no matter how many times he hits them. Something mildly frightening to note is, if Mark uses his blasts rapid fire for a long duration, the aura around his hands will spread up his arms and across his torso, and his eyes will even begin to glow the same shade of fuchsia.Healing
– When this power developed, Mark was both pleased and terrified. He was happy to be able to help contribute more to the team as a whole and be something more than just a combatant, but the responsibility of being a designated healer still weighs heavily on his mind when he chooses to play that role. It is critical to know though, that his healing powers are touch based and only work when he's in physical contact with the injured party. His healing powers work incredibly well, and cause no ill effect to him, but the power definitely has its limits. It only works on injuries and some illnesses, and while it works incredibly fast, he has to be able to get to an injured person before they die. He's capable of bringing people back from the brink, but once they pass, resuscitation measures must be taken, and if those efforts are successful, Mark can step in and try his hand. Mark has the added benefit of not having to know what kind of damage he's dealing with, he just needs to touch them, meaning skin to skin. The more contact there is, the more effective he can be, because his power spreads from the point of contact, so the larger the area, the more quickly it will work. His healing normally results in minimal scarring, but if the injury is deep and severe, scars will still appear, though they will be greatly reduced than if a normal doctor were to treat them. He is able to completely heal most injuries, though if the injury results in instant death, there is nothing he can do. He cannot completely replace muscles and organs, though if even a shred of said muscle or organ still exists, he can regenerate it back from that. This does not apply to limbs though, so sorry amputees, Mark can only seal the wound, not give you your limb back.
When it comes to illnesses, he can cure many of them, but there are some he just can't get rid of. Things like cancer, HIV/AIDS, any kind of major poisoning, or degenerative diseases, he cannot help with. This is a major disappointment to him, as he wanted his healing powers to be more effective and he wanted to be able to help more people, but he's accepted that he'll take what he can get and do what he can with his gift. The biggest downfall to this power though, is Mark cannot heal himself. When these powers activate, Mark's body itself takes on a very soft seafoam colored glow, and when his powers start working on a wound, the wound will glow more intensely the same color. He feels a gentle warmth wherever his skin comes into contact with his patient's skin, and he's been told by his previous patients that the sensation his healing causes is a gentle, vibrating, numbing tingle that radiates outward from where they're being touched and settles more intently on where they're being healed. It has been said that it can be a little uncomfortable depending on where the healing is taking place, such as head wounds and very deep wounds, but he's never had anyone tell him it's painful before, and he's very happy about that. Chronokinesis
- The most recent power he's discovered, Mark has the ability to form a time stasis field in his immediate vicinity. The field does not extend more than four feet in any given direction, and does not stay in one place, meaning if he moves, the field moves with him. It's the power that frightens him the most out of all of them, because the idea of stopping time, even in such a small space, seems high unnatural and wrong to him. It takes a lot of concentration to maintain the field, so he can't focus on other complex tasks whilst using this power. He cannot pick and choose what is and isn't hit with the stasis field, so anything within his very limited radius is stopped when the field is activated, he is the only thing that is not stopped. He hasn't had the opportunity to use this power outside of Danger Room training, but he is comfortable enough to put together a techno playlist and leave the power open as an option.Limits-
The simplest way to break down the biggest flaw in Mark's abilities can be stated in four words. No music, no powers. If anything were to happen to stop the music, whatever aspect of his powers were active would fizzle out and stop working within seconds. This is particularly dangerous in several situations, such as when he is flying or when he is trying to heal someone. The best way he has found to combat this major weakness is to avoid earbuds at all costs whilst on a mission, since they are too easy to fall out or be yanked out of his ears.
Lack of listening device is not the only thing that can bungle his power set however. If something were to happen to his hearing, his powers would not become active, even if music were to be playing. He must be able to hear the music for his powers to work, which makes him increasingly concerned because he's developed a case of tinnitus that he cannot seem to shake. This has caused him to start listening to his music louder, which he knows could potentially make his condition worse but it's the only way he can drown out the ringing in his ears and use his powers effectively.
It's also worth noting, that his powers only respond to fully composed songs, and not just noises that happen to carry a tune. If he were to be caught without any way to listen to music, his problems would not be solved by just belting out his favorite gospel song and flying away. Humming, whistling, beat-boxing, a capella singing, none of it seems to trigger his powers.
Another big weakness for Mark is that he has to change the type of music he's listening to in order to swap powers, which is a hassle in heavy combat situations. If he's able to remove himself from combat long enough to get his next genre booted up he can manage just fine, but if there is no break in battle he cannot power swap. Mark has discovered that sometimes he must just assign himself to a role in a fight or training simulation and stick to it, be it the healer, the fighter, or the aerial support, sometimes he just can't catch a break to swap roles.Skills & Abilities-
Mark has a good amount of training in hand to hand combat that he's learned in his time at Xavier's. His fighting style heavily favors throwing and grappling his opponents, that doesn't mean he can't throw a punch or a kick, though he prefers to restrain and subdue rather than do potentially heavier damage by striking. He's not a pacifist by any means, but if an opponent can be subdued and restrained, he would rather do that than risk putting them through unnecessary injury and pain by hitting them. If an opponent is deemed too dangerous and must be taken down however, he will fall back on strikes, favoring kicks to punches.
Mark also has a bit of musical talent, mainly with guitar and it's not uncommon to find him sitting off somewhere playing around with his old and beat up acoustic. He bought it from a pawn shop when he first came to the mansion and with the power of books and various Youtube videos, has figured out how to play. He has various other skills that he's learned from other people at the mansion, including how to do general maintenance on a car, basic wilderness survival, and the ability to perform odds and ends handyman work. He tends to pick up a skill from everyone he gets close to, so her labels himself a jack of all trades, definitely a master of none though, because with all the skills he's acquired, he's still perfectly capable of being stumped once things get too complicated.
He's held a handful of part time jobs, including working retail and food service, so he's gotten good at dealing with and calming down people who are upset and can work his way around a kitchen, provided the recipe is familiar to him and isn't overly complicated.
160 lbsEye Colour-
In his own opinion, Mark is your essential boy next door. Nothing spectacularly outstanding about him, he just kind of exists and occupies space. He firmly believes that when it comes to appearances, he is the definition of average, and he doesn't complain about it one bit. He's had other people tell him he's unconventionally attractive, which is a weird compliment that he doesn't quite understand, but he takes it graciously nonetheless.
He has strong and angular features that somehow combine with a boyish face and how mature he looks is directly related to how recently he's shaved. His hair is a mop of dark curls that he has an insanely hard time managing, and he never schedules regular haircuts, so he will usually let his hair get ridiculously long before someone finally convinces him it's time to trim back the mane.
His clothing choice is questionable on average, because Mark is the guy that thinks skinny jeans with blazers look cool. He really doesn't fit into any style category that he's aware of, he just pick out clothes that he thinks are okay and wears them. So his wardrobe is eclectic and scattered, but much to the surprise of people who know him, he never leaves his room looking utterly ridiculous. He at least has the sense to dress in clothes that fit his lean muscled frame.
The only constant thing about his wardrobe is the set of headphones that are resting either around his neck or firmly over his ears.Gear-
Mark is never without his headphones, and he always carries with him some kind of music playing device. He owns several old MP3 players and iPods, all filled to the brim with music, and he always has at least one of them in his pocket. He also will use his phone as a backup if his other devices get damaged, but he prefers not to rely on his phone, due to battery and lack of storage space. He always has a pair of earbuds in his pocket, even though he hates them, just in case of an extreme emergency and his regular headphones break. He also has an official X uniform that comes with everything he would need in accompaniment to his powers that he wears on the rare occasions that he has a mission, but it doesn't get used often.Additional Information-
Mark has a number of strange phobias that he can't explain, including an intense fear of the dark, fear of the dentist, fear of deep water, and the extreme inability to handle horror material. He will be the one screaming like a little girl in a crowded movie theater and is the type to run up the stair after turning the lights off because he assumes whatever is in the dark is chasing him. It's not unheard of to see Mark wandering down to the kitchens late at night for a snack with his phone lighting the way and his blanket wrapped firmly over his shoulders for protection.
He also greatly enjoys attending poetry readings, flea markets, and adores thrifting.
Bluewater Village, MichiganImmediate Family-
Louis Sheppard (father), Greta Sheppard (mother, deceased)Others-
Aside from the people at the mansion, Mark hasn't had the best luck maintaining close friendships.History-
Tale as old as time, boy meets girl, they fall in love, they get married and live happily ever after. At least, that's how it happens in the story books, and for Louis and Greta, it seemed that their life was set to go down in fairy tale history. Greta and Louis loved each other, that much was for certain. They were giddy like teenagers on their wedding day and that bliss continued through the years of their marriage, only increasing at the birth of their first and only child.
Mark Sheppard was doted on by both of his parents, they loved him, and he loved them, and their family was something out of a Hallmark film. Everything was perfect, from their perfect little house to their perfect little family portraits. Mark was a bright and friendly child, though he was constantly scolded for his inability to focus on tasks that didn't immediately capture his attention or hold his interest. His mother described him as 'full of piss and vinegar' all the time, his father was proud of his son's boundless energy, but wished the boy would just reign it in and direct it once in a while. Despite this, Mark was always generally well behaved, much to his parent's delight.
Like most good things however, their perfection came to an abrupt and rather heart wrenching end when Greta suddenly fell ill one winter. Everyone thought it must be a cold, there was a nasty bug going around, but when she just couldn't seem to shake it she finally relented and went to the doctor, where she was diagnosed with pneumonia. People in her age group normally have an easy enough time overcoming the disease, and she'd always been healthy, so she was under the impression that being admitted to the hospital was perhaps a bit much but she couldn't argue with an expert and followed doctors orders. She felt awful but she was confident that she would be out of the hospital in a few days and back home with her family.
Such a small percentage of people die from the disease, no one saw her death coming.
Poor Mark, being only eight years old at the time, was at an age where he understood the finality of death but wasn't mature enough to grasp that life isn't fair. He struggled with the death of his mother and became sullen, losing the spark that everyone had come to expect from him. If Greta's death devastated Mark, it utterly destroyed Louis.
The man had always been a casual drinker, but with the death of his wife his habit spiraled out of control, and within a few short years he had developed a full blown problem. He felt like an absolute failure, his wife was gone and his son had withdrawn and hardly spoke to anyone. He didn't understand how he was supposed to raise Mark without Greta, and even though he tried to maintain the facade of normalcy and maintain a stable home, Louis started poring drinks earlier and earlier. Soon, instead of being able to pick his son up from school, the boy would either have to walk or take the bus because Louis was too intoxicated to even get the car started. Mark was too wrapped up in his own grieving to see how his own father was struggling, and was too young to really even realize what was happening. Slowly, he learned how to pick up his father's slack and maintain the house to an acceptable level.
Try as the young boy might, his efforts weren't strong enough for the change to go unnoticed by teachers and other school staff. Where Mark used to be a well kept and and healthy boy, teachers noticed him getting thinner and more tired, and his clothes always appeared to have been improperly laundered and his overall appearance started to scream 'neglect' by the time he reached middle school. Counselors stepped in and asked Mark if everything was alright, and though he was hesitant, he explained his living situation when given enough prodding. He wanted to stress that it wasn't his dad's fault, that Mark just needed to try a little harder to keep up with everything.
Welfare checks were conducted, though much to the chagrin of school officials the issue wasn't deemed severe enough to remove Mark from the home, though Louis was given strict warning that routine checkups were to be conducted. The whole ordeal lasted about a month and Louis was able to get his act together enough to prevent his son from being taken away, but only barely. Mark wished his living situation improved but it didn't, he just learned how to better take care of himself and his father, and thus his schoolwork suffered more and more. He remained withdrawn and only had a few friends in middle school.
Somehow many of his classmates had found out about his living situation and were less than kind to him about it. Most children didn't understand that alcoholism often has an underlying cause. Kids think that being an alcoholic is a conscious choice, that some people just wake up and decide to destroy their lives, which isn't true. Mark's classmates seemed to have forgotten how involved and awesome Louis had been before Greta's death. Louis had always signed up to chaperon field trips, class parties, was always the 'cool dad' at birthday parties and sports events. They forgot that Louis had once been a functioning human being that had one of the worst things on the face of the planet happen to him. They didn't understand that tragedy could ruin a person, and of course they took out all of their ignorance on Mark for having a highly dysfunctional home life, simply because they didn't know anything about it.
Mark found solace in music, and started getting into album collecting. It didn't matter the genre, if it sounded interesting enough, he scraped up money from chores and paper routes to buy them. He'd discovered a form of therapy in listening to music and on the advice of the middle school councilor he started writing his feelings down in tandem with listening to music. It took months, but he was coming out of his shell and a small sliver of the boisterous and bright boy he once was started to show through. He started making new friends once middle school kicked off, and though the bullying and whispers didn't stop, he noticed that they didn't hurt him as much when he was feeling better about himself.
It was one night in his bedroom that his mutation first manifested itself. He was listening to a strange mix of dance style music a cute girl in his language arts class had given him, and as he lay on his bed staring at his ceiling he noticed that small flashing lights began dancing in the corner of his vision. At first he blinked rapidly, thinking maybe he was getting tired and was seeing things, but the more intense the music got, the more the lights flashed and soon he was seeing them all around his room. He flung his headphones off and made to run for help from his dad, because flashing lights had to be a sign of some kind of alien invasion, or a stroke or something right? Strangely, when he took his headphones off, the lights quickly faded and went away.
It took hours of experimentation, but after a long and sleepless night he discovered that when he listened to the CD, or really any kind of dance music, the lights would appear. In the wee hours of the morning when he heard his father wake up, he called the older man into the bedroom. He knew Louis was probably a little hungover, but this was as sober as his father was going to get, and Mark was scared and needed advice. Louis was still his father, and Mark still had the irresistible compulsion to run to his parents for help.
Louis didn't know what to think. It was obvious that Mark was the cause of the anomaly, there was no other explanation for it, but Louis wasn't sure if he was ready to come to terms with the fact that his son was one of those mutants he'd heard so much about on the news. Not all of them were bad though right? Surely plenty of mutants lived normal everyday existences without becoming hell-bent on world domination or mass destruction. Besides, what damage could Mark do with a minor ability like creating flashing lights? He'd be a danger to any epileptic but to the general public, he was harmless.
Whether or not Mark was harmless didn't change the fact that being a mutant was going to put his life in danger. Louis knew his son would be targeted by bigots and receive a lot of hatred for what he was, but he didn't know how to help his son aside from telling him not to do anything that could potentially trigger his power until they figured out what to do.
So Mark put the CD away and was insanely careful about what kind of music he listened to when he wasn't at home, locked up in his room. It worked for a few months, until the cute girl from language arts needed a date for the end of the year dance the school was holding. Mark thought he could control himself enough for the few short hours he'd be at the dance. He was doing well, better than he expected, until a particularly long round of songs triggered his powers into overdrive, turning his heavily decorated corner of the school gymnasium into a rave. His friends were frightened by the sudden appearance of flashing and floating lights, so Mark covered his ears and yelled at his friends that the music was too loud and that they should go out into the lobby. His quick thinking made the lights disappear before they vacated the gym, the act of muffling the music cutting back on his mutation but enough people had seen the strange phenomenon to ask questions. Mark blamed the school for using cheap strobe lights, and most people believed that excuse once it was offered up, especially when Mark insisted he'd seen a small strobe light near where they'd been standing. Others weren't so convinced, though they didn't know what to make of the situation. He left the dance alone that night, the cute language arts girl having been picked up early by her parents thanks to a strict curfew, and he returned home, hoping his father was sober enough to have a conversation about what had happened.
Louis was upset, the 'I told you so' written plainly all over the man's face, but he did his best not to take his frustration out on his son. If his son's strange powers were going to be this active and unpredictable, it was painfully obvious that he wouldn't get much better at home.
It wasn't until after school had been released for the summer that around dinner time, an older man in a wheelchair appeared at their home, accompanied by a more able bodied man. Mark had no idea who the men were, but they seemed nice and had asked politely enough to speak with Louis, who was surprisingly sober for how late it was in the day. When Louis told Mark to let the men in, Mark just shrugged and went back to making dinner while the three older men talked, but he couldn't help but feel like he was being watched whenever he left the kitchen. Mark wasn't privy to what the adults talked about while he wasn't in the room, but when he was finally invited back into the living room, his father was visibly upset and the two guests looked solemn.
Louis grabbed his son in a hug and explained that Mark was being sent away to a school, a special school for kids like him. Kids that were mutants and needed to learn to control themselves. Mark was taken aback, at first. Was his dad really dumping him off at some boarding school like some kind of unwanted burden? Mark adamantly argued that they shouldn't be separated, using every excuse under the sun from it wasn't fair for him to be shipped off and forgotten, to the fact that he didn't want to leave all of his friends behind. Each of his arguments was met with a strong counter argument, and finally, as the young teen's voice cracked with emotion, he asked the final question. What would happen to Louis if Mark left? Who would take care of him when he couldn't take care of himself? Mark's strongest reason for wanting to stay wasn't for anything as childish as inconvenience or selfish desire for familiarity, he was genuinely concerned about his father.
Louis told his son that he would be going away too. They were both going away for a while, and hopefully in a couple of years they both would have themselves under better control. Louis had arranged it so that he and Mark would be leaving on the same day, Mark for New York and Louis for a treatment center.
Saying goodbye to everything he'd known was the second hardest thing Mark had ever had to do.
Once he was unpacked and settled in at the school, Mark once again withdrew into himself. He would spend hours sitting on his bed listening to music and writing in notebooks, his only outlets in his strange new environment. Thankfully with a spectacular staff and more mutants his age running around, he re-emerged from his shell and was able to fling himself headfirst into everything Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters had to offer.
It didn't take long for Mark to start throwing curve balls at the school though, because it appeared that different types of music would trigger different types of abilities in the boy. Photokinesis, which everyone already knew about was apparent, but shortly after school started he developed the ability to create force fields. He had those two abilities under his direct control, when only a short year later the teachers were hang to wrangle him down from the rafters in flight training. It was like Mark's own personal version of a growth spurt, every year or so a new power would emerge associated with a different type of music and he'd have to spent time learning how to control himself all over again.
As he got into high school, his concussive blasts were among the most difficult to get a grip on because of the sheer destructive nature of them. Extra Danger Room sessions were scheduled to help him become more adept at being a full combatant instead of being focused solely on defense and evasion. Around his seventeenth birthday was when he very dramatically learned he could heal people with the assistance of the blues, which opened up a whole new avenue of training he had to undergo. Mark was starting to think that maybe these new powers would never end, and he was partially right.
The most recent power Mark brought forth, and the most frightening, chronokinesis. It scared the hell out of him because it happened out in public in broad daylight. Thankfully he was able to escape the situation with minimal attention drawn to him, but the look on the staff's collective faces when he burst into a room yelling about a new power wasn't one of surprise. It was Mark, they had come to expect his random outbursts of 'look what I can do', and they took it in stride. With the same dedication and hard work he'd always put in to conditioning himself to handle a new power, he soon brought this terrifying force under his belt and into his control.
Mark would occasionally go home once in a while to visit his father throughout his time at the school, but it would appear that going to treatment didn't do much to help Louis. The older man continuously had relapse after relapse, despite trying countless times to get sober. The visits decreased in frequency until they only occurred about once a year in the summer. The last time Mark visited his father the house was almost destroyed, bottles and cans everywhere with almost no where to sit, and there was almost no coherent conversation to be had. Mark made the tough decision to drop his father off at a more intense treatment facility, one of those 'tough love' places that shape you up and don't give you a choice. The flight back to New York was a tough one to endure alone, but after sobbing quietly to himself for about an hour on the plain, much to the horror of the people trapped sitting next to him, he came to the realization that there was nothing more he could have done for his father. He hasn't visited since, but phone calls were frequent when they were finally permitted bu the treatment center.
Mark is now approaching a full year since a new power has cropped up, so he's almost expecting something else to sneak up on him, but he also recognizes that his body has done about as much growing and changing as it is supposed to, and he hopes that his mutation has reached the end of its rope. He's gone through a few part time jobs, trying to establish himself outside of the mansion and maybe start making some money for himself but so far he's had no luck with maintaining a job thanks to his utter lack of motivation and a combination of just plain bad luck.
Staying at the mansion though, it hasn't all been bad. This most recent school year though, with all the new kids, has gotten Mark more concerned than ever. It seems like more awful things were happening than ever before, and Mark isn't sure he can stomach another tragedy on school grounds.
28How Can We Contact-
Skype, PMTime Zone-
EasternHow did you find us?
I got that secret invite codeOther Characters-
Boom Boom, NightmareRole Play Sample-
The mansion was absolutely squirming with 'little tykes' as he liked to call them, even though he was only a few short years older. The way they all ran about the halls and made noise really livened the place up, and mark almost wished it could have been that way when he was a student. There'd been plenty of other students to pal around with sure but, never this many.
He dodged out of the way when a small pack of truly tiny tots darted around him, laughing and screaming at whatever they were currently excited about. He could hear them even over the music blaring from his headphones. His hands were loosely crammed into the back pockets of his jeans as he meandered the halls, just taking in the scenery of a Saturday afternoon. It was a little too cold for many of them to be romping around outside without some sturdier winter gear, unlike himself many of them were not from the great white north. Some of these kids didn't even own actual coats, which was foreign enough to the Michigander but he could understand. Were coats really even a thing in Hawaii? He'd never been, so he couldn't be sure.
The relaxed grin stayed firmly in place as he made his way down to the student kitchens. Yeah, he knew that the staff had their own kitchen but the student one was stocked with better stuff, and there was less chance of someone wanting something from him if he avoided encountering any of his teammates. He was feeling particularly lazy this afternoon, and didn't want to deal with having to run any kind of errands. He just wanted to relax, which seemed like the exact opposite of that was happening in the student kitchens as he sauntered in. He drooped his tinted Dracula style glasses furner down his nose and cocked an eyebrow at the frantic teen girls present.
“You little ladies havin' an issue in here?” He questioned slowly, not sure what to make of the pale faces and bug eyed looks the girls had. One of them shakily pointed toward a counter top, and he soon saw what the problem was.
“Oh, hey no it's okay guys, that's just Susan.” He strolled over and coaxed the large cave spider into his hand, paying no mind to the way one of the girls almost gagged at the sight of him actually touching the creepy crawly. “You've never met Susan? She's pretty cool see.” He started casually explaining what Susan was and all the neat things about her. “See she's more like a crab than anything, she's got these little pinchy bits but they don't hurt.” He held his finger out to Susan's little pincer like hand things and the small creature experimentally grabbed at his much larger appendage, which tickled more than anything. The younger girls didn't seem very convinced of her harmlessness.
“Okay well, I better get her back home, I know someone who'll be missing her.” Neena Myles sped in almost as if it were scripted, and Mark smiled at the tiny girl. “Hey, did you lose somebody?”
May 28 2017, 03:11 PM
This is the ever popular Voice Meme! These can be really fun to do, and also to hear, because we have such a diverse crowd here it's always fun to hear different accents and subtle differences in speech. Some of these questions are from the standard voice meme that flats around the internet, some of these I've seen on more customized versions, and some questions I've thought up by myself. You can record these either on video or on vocaroo, or any other method that at least allows us to hear your lovely voice! Now, let's get started!
• Give us your name, alias or real name, or both even! Whatever you're comfortable with. Who do you play?
• Where are you from? What time is it for you right now?
• How are you today?
Awesome, now we'll dive into this game and give you some things to talk about. Don't think too hard on them, just answer with the first thing that pops into your head.
• Pronounce the following words: Aunt, Roof, Route, Theater, Iron, Salmon, Caramel, Fire, Water, New Orleans, Pecan, Both, Again, Probably, Alabama, Lawyer, Coupon, Mayonnaise, Pajamas, Caught, Naturally, Aluminium, GIF, Tumblr, Crackerjack, Doorknob, Envelope, Deez Nutz.
• What is it called when you throw toilet paper on a house?
• What is a bubbly carbonated drink called?
• What do you call gym shoes?
• What do you call the wheeled contraption in which you carry groceries at the supermarket?
• What is the thing you change the TV channel with?
• Choose a book and read a passage from it. Or instead of a book, choose one of your posts and read it to us! We'd love to hear the tone and emphasis you'd originally intended for it!
• Do you think you have an accent?
• Be a wizard or a vampire?
• Would you rather own a dragon or be a dragon?
• Are you allergic to anything?
• Do you speak another language?
• Do you have any phobias? If so do you know the scientific name for them?
• Do you know anyone on Evo in real life?
Now let's talk a little bit about what we do while writing!
• Do you have a writing process? Such as writing the action bits first and then addint all the filler? Responding to dialogue and then writing all the non verbal interactions? Do you just start at the beginning and see where the post takes you or do you plan everything out before you write it? TELL US.
• Do you listen to music?
• Do movies or shows give you inspiration? What about books?
• Do you snack while you write?
• Do you ever bribe yourself into writing? For example, do you have a reward system for yourself to help stay motivated?
• Do you notice bits of yourself in your characters?
Thanks so much for playing and telling us about yourself! This is the last thing you have to do, promise!
• End audio post by saying any THREE words you want.
May 15 2017, 01:20 AM
Celebrity Claim- Dita Von Teese
Samara Vane Nicknames/Aliases-
Mara, Miss VaneAge-
27Date of Birth-
Brotherhood of Mutants (Joined 01/2015)Occupation-
Above everything, Samara is a force of nature. She's pretty complex with hoe her mind works, and she always seems to come out on top of any situation. She'd quite cunning and clever, and isn't afraid to manipulate other people in order to put herself into a better position, provided of course that she doesn't actually care about the people she's manipulating. She's very good and very kind to those she consider friends, and she'll go above and beyond to make sure they are well cared for. She'll bend over backwards for the people she loves, and she only expects the same in return. It comes as a surprise to some people just how 'normal' she is around her friends. By looking at her many would assume she's snobbish, greedy, superficial and haughty, but no. She can truly let her airs down and be herself around people she trusts, and they find her to be funny, a little boisterous, and quite doting.
To people she does not like however, all the above negatives are true. She is cold and dismissive, and downright arrogant at times toward people she has a distaste for. The difference is really night and day, and as much as she loves her friends, she really does hate her enemies. An angry Samara is often a quiet Samara, as she was taught from an early age that lashing out was not lady like and was unappealing. Instead when she is angry she will become hyper focused and direct all of her snark and barbs toward whatever or whoever has upset her with pinpoint precision. There have only been a handful of times where Samara has gotten so angry that she's resorted to screaming and getting violent, and those are times that she is indeed most ashamed of.
When Samara is around people she does not know, or people she needs to be proper around, she is the image of a lady. She was well trained in etiquette from a young age and she knows how to handle herself with her superiors.
She can often be quite fussy however, and will come off as high maintenance because of it. If her hair or clothes or makeup are not just perfect, she will not rest until she is back in proper order, much to the frustrations of her companions. Likes-
- Good conversation
- Kisses in the rain
- Little lace gloves
- Rice Krispie treats
- Anti-mutant movement
- Being woken up
- Being told 'no'
- Getting something sticky on her hands
- People undermining her because of her sex
- Potty humor
- Fights tooth and nail for what she believes in
- Loyal to those who deserve it
- Confident to the point of arrogance
- Doesn't trust new people easily
- Relies too much on her mutation and really doesn't know how to physically defend herself
Fear Pheromone ToxinDescription-
Samara has the ability to create and emit a certain chemical at will, and that is the 'fear pheromone' combined with a toxin that her body produces naturally. It can come out of her pores much like sweat, therefore areas more likely to perspire heavily are more likely to produce the chemical at a faster rate. Exposure to this pheromone will cause feelings of anxiety, paranoia, fear, and outright terror and panic if exposed to high enough levels. She can use her power two different ways. The first and more preferred method, is by touch.
Direct skin to skin contact is the best and most effective way for the chemicals she emits to affect her chosen victim, absorbing directly into their system and working most efficiently. This way also makes it much easier to deliver a higher dose, so the effects are stronger and more instantaneous. With enough exposure, the victim will begin to hallucinate thanks to the toxin, usually seeing visions of their darkest fears or things they just find frightening due to their already horrified state of mind. A person suffering from this kind of exposure to the Fear Toxin will normally be feeling like themselves again within an hour of exposure, granted that she gave them the normal amount she usually does, which is a palm full. If it was just a fleeting swipe it will take less than an hour for them to recover, and if she uses both hands or keeps contact and they continue to absorb it through their skin it could take longer to overcome, though the longest she's known someone to suffer is just over three hours.
She's also able to direct the chemical into the air, spreading it out over more space and affecting a wider area, usually used when she has to affect more than one person at a time. This way is much slower acting and will take longer, and it's easier to detect due to the sickly sweet smell that comes with the chemical floating around in the air. The effects on the intended target are the same however, and within minutes everyone around her will end up a whimpering mess. When a person is exposed this way, the effect wears off much the same as it is when the toxin is absorbed by skin, though the process can be sped up greatly by moving the person into fresh air, such as outdoors or into a well ventilated space.
When she uses her powers, her eyes cloud over and turn entirely black. She guesses it's from chemical changes in her body taking place but she's never put herself under a microscope to find out if that's true. Her eyes will go back to normal over a period of time after she stops. using her powers, usually an hour or so. Limits-
The biggest flaw in her powers would have to be, if someone cannot feel fear, she cannot affect them. If they have brain damage in certain areas or if they have a chemical imbalance in their body that inhibits their ability to be afraid, it simply will not work on them because their body can't be manipulated that way. These kinds of conditions are somewhat rare, but if she were to encounter someone like that, she would be at a loss for what to do.
The second biggest flaw is, when she makes the chemicals airborne, she has no control over who it does and doesn't hit. Once she pushes it into the air it's a free for all and everyone within the room is going to fall victim, friend or foe, which is why she does not like to use her powers this way. Also if she is outdoors or in a very large or heavily ventilated indoor space, it's likely the chemical would be so diluted in the air that it simply wouldn't be effective enough for it to be useful. Her powers so far have proven effective in a room up to 20x20 feet. She has not had a controlled environment to fully experiment and see how far her toxin can reach before becoming too diluted. The toxin will hang in the air for a maximum of fifteen minutes before it seems to simply dissipate and become ineffective, and if she wants it to remain in a room for longer than that she has to actively focus on continuously creating and dispersing it.
Also, once she emits the chemical, it will remain on her skin until it is washed off, and will remain on her clothes until they are washed. This makes making her chemical airborne an even bigger hassle, because instead of just forcing it out through the palms of her hands, it will cover her body and clothes, so anyone in an enclosed space while she is still covered will be at risk, even if she has actively stopped using her powers.
As stated, when using her power, her eyes change color. This is involuntary and there is nothing she can do to control it, and until her eyes turn back to their original appearance she is forced to wear sunglasses to hide this abnormality from people who don't know about her mutant status.
While this is not inherently a flaw, it is interesting to note that Samara herself seems almost incapable of feeling fear. She experiences other feelings and emotions normally, but most things that fall would under fear based, she either doesn't feel at all or experiences at a very diminished rate. She will react to startling stimuli of course, if something jumps out at her or makes a loud sound she will physically flinch or withdraw out of instinct, but her heart rate will not normally change due to being frightened. It is currently unknown why this is, if it's simply her mutation protecting her body from itself and making her resistant to the usual fear responses, or if her brain is formed in a way that the areas responsible for fear responses are stunted, she does not know.Skills & Abilities-
Samara has been trained in the arts of everything 'feminine', be it the traditional domestic arts like cooking and sewing when she was younger, to things a little outside of the box like interior design and beginners first when she was in high school and college. Her father was under the impression that his daughter should know the ins and outs of homemaking, so he was sure that these little skills were instilled into his daughter from a young age. She was taught how to play piano in her teens, and though it's been a long time since she's tickled the ivories, she's able to read sheet music and play if given time to warm up.
When it comes to her first aid training, she's no doctor but she does know how to do CPR and tend to a wound, basically enough knowledge to be helpful in an emergency, until a real medical professional can be of more help. She'd not a life saver however, therefore don't expect her to know what to do with extensive and near fatal wounds.
Her cooking is exceptional, and it's one of the things she honestly enjoys doing. It helps keep her busy and is a good stress reliever when she has too many things to worry about. She especially enjoys making exotic foods and will jump at the chance to make something beyond the American norm. It's not uncommon for her to give gifts of food to her friends, because she both cares about them and likes to give them gifts, and because she sometimes just cooks too much and doesn't want any unnecessary waste. The same goes for sewing, and though she doesn't enjoy it as much as she enjoys cooking she recognizes it as a useful skill, especially considering her unique fashion tastes and the relative difficulty she can sometimes have finding clothes that fit her frame, so she's sometimes even had to make a particular style of shirt or skirt if she just can't find something that fits her perfectly. This also means she can mend tears and hems. Fear not Brotherhood of Mutants, your popped button can indeed be reattached.
She was on the school fencing team in high school, and still practices at least three times a week. It's not a very useful skill, but she feels elegant while doing it and she figures she's too old to be doing ballet and gymnastics, though she still remembers a few tricks from her days in those sports as well.
She went to college for her Masters in Interior Design, and though she doesn't exactly advertise this as her profession, she will still take cases and work to make money. Her portfolio is rather impressive, although a little small, with many wealthy families and businesses crediting her creative imagination for their beautiful interiors.
Blonde, though she keeps it dyed black.Appearance-
The first thing people notice about Samara is her clothing. She prefers to wear very retro and vintage styles, recalling era's long passed. She is quite buxom and voluptuous, and the clothes she chooses to wear accentuate every curve she possesses.
It's not uncommon for her tops to be cut almost dangerously low, and she relishes the fact it draws attention to two of her best assets. She doesn't care for short skirts however and will rarely wear anything scandalously short unless it makes sense for the occasion. That being said, she almost always wears skirts or dresses, and when she does wear pants they are nearly never, ever jeans. Always stylish slacks or something similar. Her footwear consists mainly of dressy heels and flats, the only time she'd ever put on a pair of trainers is when she's working out, an activity she normally does in privacy.
Her makeup style reflects her clothing choices, with cherry red lips, fiercely winged black eyeliner, and pale flawless skin. She will not be caught dead without her face fully made up and her hair styled, as she is wildly proud of her appearance and insists she look immaculate when out in the public eye. This even includes being around fellow Brotherhood members.Gear-
Samara never leaves home without a pair of over sized sunglasses. She uses them when she needs to use her powers and then hide the color change of her eyes. She also carries a small knife in her purse for self defense, though she does not really know how to use it other than a basic stab.Additional Information-
Samara greatly enjoys collecting various knick knacks and each room in her home is themed differently. Her kitchen is very pink and bright, and is almost reminiscent of a doll house whereas her bedroom is decorated with dark colors, purples, blues, and blacks that she likes to wrap herself in while she sleeps. Going through her home is quite entertaining for guests, because they'll never know what the next room will be. Rumor has it one of her guest rooms is mermaid themed, how exciting!
Westchester, NYImmediate Family-
Ezra Vane (father, deceased), Delia Vane (mother, deceased), Ashton Vane (brother)Others-
Aside from Brotherhood members and various average joe humans that manage her estate, no one.History-
Most times, when a child is born, the new family can't wait to hold on to their new precious bundle of joy. It is inevitable, all the closest family members will gather around and the baby will be passed from person to person in a strange, almost ritualistic manner so each family member can coo over the newborn and compliment the parents. It's all very strange when you stop to think about it, but people don't think of it in such a way, they call it 'bonding', and for a close knit family such as the Vanes, they took the very idea of familial bonds very seriously. So of course, when Samara was welcomed into the world, it wasn't out of the question to expect Delia to fawn over her new baby and want to snuggle her skin to skin as much as possible, because all the new parenting magazines said that's what was best.
Yet, Delia sometimes just couldn't bring herself to spend a lot of time holding Samara that way. The woman claimed it made her nervous and uncomfortable for some reason, nothing major, but just enough to make her squirm after a long period of holding her baby. She chalked it up to 'new mom jitters' and tried to push past it, but she never quite got over how uncomfortable it made her. As Samara grew older, Delia found that those feelings dissipated, and when she had her second child two years after her first, she realized that the feelings she experienced while holding Samara were nowhere to be seen, so she almost pushed the oddness from her mind to go about her daily life.
The incidents weren't frequent, not frequent enough for anyone outside the Vane household to raise an eyebrow anyway. They were just little things really, little insignificant things. Once when Ezra held his daughters hand crossing the street his heart started racing halfway through the crosswalk, and when they'd reached the other side, he couldn't help but look about wildly as though he expected something to jump out at him. Once when Delia had come home from a shopping trip, Samara had jumped into the woman's arms, which wasn't unusual, the mother and daughter were quite close, the older woman was forced to cut the hug short when she started almost hyperventilating out of sheer terror. On more than one occasion, when the parents went into their daughters room to wake her up in the morning, they couldn't help but notice the strange sweet smell that permeated Samara's bedroom, and it was so odd how they always felt the urge to look over their shoulders on those particular mornings as they got their little girl ready for the day, only feeling more at ease once the room had been aired out or they had vacated the space entirely.
As infrequent as the couple experienced these things, their poor son almost constantly acted up while playing with his big sister. At first they thought Samara was just being too rough with her sibling, so playtime started being more closely supervised, but when they noticed that his terrified outbursts weren't being prompted by anything out of the ordinary, they were at a loss for what to do about their son's odd behavior. They'd taken him to doctors and specialists to try and deduce what could possibly be causing him to get so scared at random points, and everything was discussed, from childhood schizophrenia to seizures to some kind of poisoning, but the only thing the doctors could come up with was that the boy simply had an overactive imagination and he was taking the games he was playing much too seriously.
When Samara was asked what happened she would always shrug, and explain that she didn't know what had happened, but sometimes her brother would just get scared and no matter what she did, she couldn't help him, so she just yelled for her parents. No one suspected that Samara herself was behind all of it, the girl herself not even knowing what she was fully capable of.
Other than those odd occasions, Samara's childhood was a privileged and posh as would be expected, being born into one of the wealthier families in the state. Their Westchester home left plenty of room for the children to play, be it around the many halls of the large home or around the sprawling lawns of the property that lay just past their mother's gardens. It was a happy place to grow up and want for nothing. Samara grew up normally, attending school and trying to keep up with her parent's busy schedules.
It wasn't hard to notice, as the children aged that they were slowly dropping lower and lower on their parent's priority list. As they got older they needed less attending to, less coddling and less reassurance, at least according to Delia and Ezra. They still loved their children there was no doubt about that, but what the adults didn't realize was that their children still needed guidance, something they just couldn't provide with their busy schedules. Ezra traveled frequently for work, and Delia usually accompanied him so the children were left to raise themselves.
Ashton never seemed to mind the nannies as a surrogate parent. Samara on the other hand, felt jilted and more than a little ignored. The one thing she felt she could do however, was follow her father's instructions, the ones he left for her while he was away. He wanted her to stay active, take part in the more refined things and not laze about all day. She quickly took up dance classes and gymnastics classes, which she neither excelled in or failed, she was just an average performer. As she progressed through elementary school she kept up the act of the dutiful daughter, and as she got into middle school she branched out and found other things that would please Ezra. He wanted her to take up womanly pursuits, so she excelled in her home economics classes and music classes, picking up piano lessons at the end of eighth grade. Her entire school career she dreaded phys ed and workshop classes, finding them to be horribly boring. Not to mention, the other girls acted strangely around her in the locker room sometimes. Whenever she would walk in to prepare to shower off, some of the girls would get insanely nervous and on a handful of occasions, a girl would have a panic attack and need to be taken to the nurse's office. Usually though, once the girl got fresh air she said she felt fine, and that it must have just been the stress of the day getting to her.
Attending an all girls school was the best thing for Samara in her parent's eyes, just like attending an all boy's school was best for their son. Dating was a distraction they thought, and it would do their children better to just focus on their studies until graduation. As she aged she traded ballet and dance for fencing, and found that she was much happier with this kind of athletic pursuit. She father thought it was a little too aggressive for his darling daughter, but when he saw how much she enjoyed it and how she excelled and found a place with her school's team, he allowed his daughter this one little luxury. After all, his daughter was going to be a wonderful wife someday, and she would need some kinf of trophy to decorate her walls.
Until that strange day in Samara's senior year of high school. It was very close to graduation and the girls in Samara's class had all been sent on an end of the year field trip. It wasn't anything too fancy, just one of the local museums for a day of roaming about, not really doing anything under the pretense of learning. It was there that Samara realized something was not right about her. Samara had gotten a little turned around on her way to the bathrooms and couldn't find her class group, so she'd decided to trek down to the front desk and just have the museum workers deal with her and hopefully help her to reconnect with her friends. On the way down to the front lobby however, an older man had struck up a conversation with her, and being the polite girl she was, she entertained him for a moment, explaining that she was there on a field trip and that she was going to the front desk. She would never tell him she was lost, that was just asking for embarrassment. He began getting closer to her than she would have liked, and though she tried to back away, she wasn't fast enough to keep him from grabbing her arm and giving a firm yank. She'd gasped and tried to pull away, but he just pulled her closer and made comments about how pretty she was and how he just wanted to get a closer look at her, something about how smooth her skin looked. She didn't really recall the weird things he'd said, she found them too disgusting to really commit them to memory. She'd pulled and tugged, and eventually pressed her free hand to the man's face trying to push and disorient him. It was then that she noticed he wasn't gripping her to keep her there, he was gripping her because he seemed to be frozen in place, his grip hard yet trembling and his eyes blown wide to small pinpoints. He was sweating profusely and his breaths were coming out in short gasps. She locked eyes with him, and with one final shove she got him to release her, and he just toppled to the floor, unmoving and pale. She'd run away screaming for help, and when she told mall security what had happened they were just as perplexed as she was, though they couldn't stop scratching their necks and looking over their shoulders nervously as they held her in the security office, waiting for her teacher to come collect her. The field trip had been cut a little short that day, but nobody blamed Samara. Creepy people lurked everywhere, and the teacher felt awful for not sending someone to the bathrooms with the poor young girl.
The bus ride home had started off rather jovial, all the girls trying to put the weirdness of the day behind them, but in the short thirty minute drive it took them to get back at school, everyone seemed to fall victim to some kind of strange paranoia.
Samara was sent home early, and when questioned by her mother what had happened Samara simply wrapped Delia in a hug, not wanting to talk about the strange day she'd had on her supposed to be fun day. Delia wanted to comfort her daughter, she really did, but after a moment of holding the young woman, Delia began prying herself away from Samara, shouting and swatting at her firstborn in blind terror. Samara was confused, and upon asking why Delia was so upset the older woman simply backed away, shrieking. Samara didn't know what her mother was seeing, but the way the normally collected woman ran up the stairs shook the teenager to her core.
Ezra spent a considerable amount of time calming his wife down, and when he was certain Delia would be okay, he attempted to scold his daughter for whatever if was that had happened. Except he couldn't, he couldn't even bring himself to touch her for more than a few moments. Every time he tried he would be overcome with the worst clenching feeling in his chest and his vision would blur and distort to see strange things that weren't there. He gave up on trying after an hour, Samara never even got a chance to tell him about the museum. Ezra had to be told by the teacher over the phone that some man had had a heart attack while trying to abduct his daughter. His fury was overstated but understandable, and Samara faintly heard his shouting from her shower. She just felt sweaty and gross from the day's events and a long hot shower was what did her some good, though once she got out of the shower and toweled off, she couldn't help but notice a strange smell permeating her bathroom. It took her a while to find it, but she soon found the source of the smell was her school uniform. It smelled sickly sweet, like overripe fruit that had been sitting on the counter a little too long. She tossed the offending items in the hamper and thought nothing of it, until she noticed the smell lingering on her hands. No matter how she scrubbed them, her hands still held the same off scent, and she noticed that after a few minutes of staring at her hands, they would be covered in a thin coating of a strange clear fluid, not unlike sweat but, different at the same time. It seemed to be the cause of the smell, but she was too tired and confused to focus on it too hard, so she simply went to bed. What she didn't notice, was how her eyes kept darkening and darkening, until right before she fell asleep, they turned black as pitch.
She missed the next day of school, requesting to stay home and her parents granting her wish. It made her feel a little better that they were home, they'd at least thought it proper to be home for the week of her graduation. She decided to take the day and just focus on herself, to try and forget about what had happened at the museum.
Someone else had thought it was something worth paying attention to, something worth remembering however.
It was later in the afternoon when a man in a wheelchair appeared at her door, accompanied by another tall, more able bodied man. Apparently he'd seen what happened at the museum, and he knew a lot more about the strange things that would happen around Samara. He was delicate in the way he approached the family, and Ashton had even been sent to his room so as not to hear any of what was being said. This man, who called himself Charles Xavier, carefully explained that he believed Samara to be something special, something more than human.
He believed Samara was a mutant.
Samara didn't hear the rest of the discussion, she'd been sent to her room the minute the 'm' word was mentioned.
Hours passed, and Samara was called back down. Her mother looked sad, her father looked defeated, but Charles looked as calm as ever. He issued her an offer, an offer to come stay at his school and learn how to control her gift. Samara was confused, she really didn't know what her gift was. She'd heard about mutants that could fly and move things with their mind, and more, but all she seemed to do was scare people. Charles smiled gently at her, and nodded. Her gift was fear, she could bestow it upon anyone at random, and Charles wanted to help her learn to control it, and maybe even stop it from happening altogether. He offered her shelter, and acceptance, everyone else there was a mutant too. It was a difficult moment for her, and she looked between Charles and her parents, but ultimately she decided to go, on the condition that she would allowed to at least attend her graduation ceremony for her normal high school. She didn't know why that seemed to entertain Charles so much, but by the beginning of the following week, she was dropped of at Xavier's School with her matched luggage and a kiss mark on her cheek from her mother.
Four years she stayed there, learning what she was. She had to admit it had been fun, making friends with the other students and faculty there. She was treated a little differently than the other students, she was a lot older than a lot of them so she didn't need her general education like they did, she just had to figure out her mutation and how it worked. She became good, she became very good at controlling the creation of her Fear Toxin, so much that there were no accidental slips in the last fourteen months she attended the school. She felt ready for a normal life, she felt ready to move on, and shortly after her twenty first birthday, she asked if Charles thought it was a good idea for her to go to college. The idea was met with no resistance, and even an offer for letters of recommendation to any university of her choosing. She was delighted that she'd been approved to move on, though she wasn't sure she liked how cautiously Charles looked at her at certain moments. She knew he could get into her head easily enough, maybe he found something there he didn't exactly like.
He was probably right to be wary. She wasn't exactly on board with all the pacifism and harmony he preached. Crimes against mutants were common, it was unsafe for a mutant to be out in the open and upfront about what they were, and Samara couldn't stand it. Why couldn't they all just stand up for themselves? What was so bad about standing your ground and refusing to be repressed and love in fear? She had to escape, she just had to. Her time at the school had been a blessing but if she stayed there any longer she knew she wouldn't last. It just wasn't a good fit.
College was a breeze, it wasn't as if she choose a very difficult field. Interior design was almost child's play for her, and at the age of twenty five she graduated with flying colors. The time in university really did fly by, but she did prefer not to dwell on her time in attendance.
Life was going good for her, and she was determined to be a mutant success story. She wanted to world to know, she wanted everyone to be free to be who they were, be they fortunate like her with no physical mutation or one of the many mutants afflicted with physical deformities. She just wanted people like her to be welcomed into society.
Her parents would have none of it. Their relationship was slendid, until the minor topic of Samara's mutant status came up. Her father demanded it be kept under wraps, and her mother quietly agreed. It would be rather unbecoming for their family name to be tarnished by the 'm' label. It caused a great deal of strain between them all, enough so that one night Samara was seen storming from their home in a huff, driving off with squealing tires and no turn signal.
Samara was unsure if her parents had gotten in the car to chase after her or if they intended to go on a drive just to cool off as she had, but what she did know for sure was they never came home. It was your typical story of two distracted drivers colliding in a hail of disaster and tragedy. The Vane family took comfort in the fact that the coroner determined Delia and Ezra never felt a thing, and neither did the other driver. Death had been instantaneous, which was really the best possible outcome.
The scene investigators could never determine the source of the sickly sweet smell that clung to Ezra's jacket though.
It came as no surprise that Ashton inherited the majority of his father's estate. The business, the cars, the house, the summer homes, almost everything. The only thing left for Samara was her mother's jewelry and a lump sum of cash, spare change in comparison to what Ashton received. Ashton on the other hand, hadn't known of his sisters condition, his parents never told him why his sister went away to a strange boarding school after high school. They never told him about how his older sister could manipulate emotions at will and make anyone's darkest dreams spring to life. So he did what any good little brother would do, and he split everything with his sister. He initially wanted her help with his father's business too but she declined, asking him only that she have possession of one of the smaller vacation homes in upstate New York, something she could redesign and make her own.
He didn't have to know that it was where she would often entertain fellow mutants, where she would invite more insidious figures to discuss her most personal wants and desires. Her time spent at Xavier's had tipped her off to the existence of another mutant faction, the Brotherhood of Mutants, and she quickly found herself immersed in their ranks and agreeing whole heartedly with their goals. It was time for mutant-kind to rise above, perhaps even reign over these petty humans that hated them so much.
Life was good again, life was very very good.
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Oh wasn't this just the sort of luck she had? People go missing, then everyone else runs off to collect them, leaving her standing in the doorway like some kind of military wife waving her dear soldiers off with a silk handkerchief. She knew it was for the best she stay behind, it wasn't like she would be of any use anyway, but it still wracked her nerves to sit around and do nothing.
Pacing hadn't helped, she imagined she'd be yelled at if she wore a hole in the carpet. Napping the time away wasn't an option, every time she lay down she popped back up like a springboard. No, the only thing she could do now was cook some delicious food and hope that her little dears were hungry when they got home.
For the time being it was a delicious smelling honey mustard pork tenderloin with loaded mashed potatoes and some seasoned steamed veggies. She figured something light would be necessary for her little loves, after all hours worth of fighting would leave them with quite the appetite... unless it hadn't. What if they all came back with no desire to eat and all of this wonderful food were to go to waste? Well, someone would end up eating it anyway. It was too late to turn back now, especially since she'd just finished sifting ingredients for her favorite fudgy brownie recipe.
“...let me see what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars...hm hm hm hmmmmm...” She intermittently hummed and sang along to one of her favorite tunes. Fly Me to the Moon, ah what a classic. It always helped her relax when her mood was sour, and boy was she ever in a hell of a mood. She'd gotten the full monte on what happened, apparently a few of their own had gone missing alongside with some of those silly X-Men kids and just, ooh it was a frustrating week that was for certain. She'd really wanted to tag along on the extraction, just to give their captors a good what for and put the fear into them, but apparently her role this time was to 'hold down the fort'.
How she really did hate that expression.
She just needed them all to come back soon. She did miss them while they were gone.
Feb 10 2017, 02:20 AM
Here she is, our resident demolitions expert, Boom Boom! After a rough childhood, a rougher adolescence , and a stint of homelessness she's made Xavier's her new home, and she's settling herself in just fine.
When it comes to friends
Tabs is open to anyone and everyone. She does her best to keep an open mind and when it comes to the people she's surrounded by at the school, there isn't much room for her to be judgmental. She will approach pretty much anyone, staff or student, if she feels the need to and is always open for people to approach her. She can come off as a little overbearing however, due to hoe extroverted and forward she is, and she can easily overwhelm people that aren't used to dealing with such a strong personality. If you can handle her and her quirks and her antics, you've found yourself a friend through thick and thin.
can be a tricky subject for Tabby. She doesn't particularly care for debbie downers or people who are just downright nasty, but the quickest way to get Tabitha to dislike you is be a prejudicial asshat. If you have an issue with mutants, you are automatically on her bad side, if you hurt her or any of her friends, you need to prepare yourself for a world of hurt because this little lady packs a hell of a punch in more ways than one. She will fiercely defend herself, her loved ones, and the things she believes in tooth and nail. If you find yourself on the receiving end of her ire, beware.
Watch out lovers
, we have ourselves a heart breaker. Tabs has had a few boyfriends in the past, nothing terribly serious, and she isn't afraid to flirt around if she decides she likes the look of a guy. So little flings are bound to happen. She's got a lot of psychological and emotional trauma from her childhood to deal with, and if she thinks someone is getting too serious too fast she won't be afraid to bail. Deep down, she's not exactly emotionally ready to form a solid relationship with anyone, and it would take the right kind of person to help her sift through all the damage life has done to her and help her become a better and more stable woman.
Meet Nightmare, our very own horror queen. She's posh, she's glamorous, she's out of your league, and she's as vicious as she is classy.Friends
, now this is a bit of a tricky subject for Samara. She's not anti-social, she's not even necessarily hard to get along with, but if she decides she doesn't want to know you, you'll never get to know her. To those she has allowed into her circle however, she is incredibly doting and kind. She sees herself as a bit of a caregiver when it comes to her friends, and she will not disappoint when it comes to spoiling them if they're having a bad day. She seems very reserved and thus difficult to approach, and in essence, if she likes the look of you she'll find a way to befriend you. Once you've befriended Samara, you have a loyal companion.
Alas, to make an enemy
of Samara is to truly put yourself in a difficult position. She can't stand people who won't stand up for themselves, and she absolutely distrusts the average human population, especially with the rising anti-mutant movement. If you dislike mutants, you dislike her, and that means she hates you with ever fiber of her being. She also has a bit of a dislike for the X-Men and Charles Xavier himself, both for their passive political stances on mutant acceptance and their constant opposition of the Brotherhood's plans. Also, if you're a member of higher society and were once associated with her parents, it's in your best interest to not reminisce about Ezra and Delia. It's a sore topic for her. Don't compare her to past generations of the Vane family.Lovers
, oh how she adores her romantic escapades. She was primed all her life to make an ideal wife, so many upper class men would look at her and see the ideal trophy wife. How mistaken they are. She's got a little list of men at her beckon and call, mainly for arm candy, she's a little more picky when it comes to who she actually takes to bed. She is quite upfront with how she feels about relationships, being she thinks that they're a little unnecessary. She's had a few serious boyfriends but the relationships ovbiously failed, so she's waiting until she really feels it to get into another one. This decision has not kept her from mingling however.
Feb 1 2017, 02:40 PM
Play By: Alysha Nett
GENERAL INFORMATION:Full Character Name:
Tabby, Tabs, Boomer, Madame McSplodeFaction:
The first thing anyone would notice about Tabitha is how incredibly outgoing she is. She is not afraid to walk up to almost anybody and strike up a conversation, usually throwing out some good-natured teasing and ribbing. Everyone is a potential friend until they prove otherwise, she does her best not to judge anyone based on their appearance, abilities, or background. She is so extroverted however that she can sometimes come across as overbearing and almost overwhelming to the more meek and mild-mannered people she encounters. Nothing is off limits when it comes to pulling pranks and cracking jokes, and other often find it to be quite infuriating when something suddenly explodes in their face or they're startled by a loud explosion going off right beside them.
She is capable however, of calming down and being a calmer girl, but only around people she trusts absolutely, because the only thing she quiets down for are incredibly serious matters, things that she wouldn't discuss with just any random person. When the topic of her family life comes up she becomes withdrawn, almost afraid to talk about any of it but knowing that if she does it could potentially help her move past it. Conversations about her father in particular will be especially bitter and she has the potential to become petulant and childish with her distaste toward her parents, unwilling to forgive them for any of their sins against her. Her anger is something that is quite volcanic in nature, small rumbles of it spiking as a warning before utter chaos and mayhem rain down on who or what ever happened to ignite the fuse, and it takes quite a while for her to cool down enough to even begin to think about forgiving them.
She will generally try to keep any kind of sadness or mope feelings under wraps for the sake of everyone else, because she feels like she has to be upbeat all the time, but for people who know her it isn't difficult to tell when she's upset. She will withdraw herself on her downtime and keep her bedroom door closed, reluctant to have visitors and will generally just spend more time in her room amongst her things for comfort. She also has a deep seeded fear of something catastrophic happening should she lose control of a bomb, which makes her very reluctant to make anything larger than her usual marble sized firecrackers.
She certainly has the attitude to match her power-set, explosive and loud and quite unpredictable. Appearance:
(At first glance, Tabitha looks like the stereotypical teenager up to no good. She's covered in tattoos and piercings, some of them visible while she is clothed and some not. She is insanely proud of her body modifications and isn't afraid to show them off and even flaunt them, much to the chagrin of more conservative people. She keeps herself well groomed, and usually never goes out without a bit of makeup on. Her hair is something she loosely maintains, it's not uncommon for her darker blonde roots to be showing under her bleached blonde.
She's very accessory heavy, and usually has on an array of necklaces, bracelets, rings, headbands, and hats. Nothing is off limits and when it comes to throwing together an outfit she usually chooses plain, solid clothes so her accessories have a chance to really pop out.
Her clothing choice can be described best as flirty yet comfortable. She wears shorts whenever possible, finding pants to be a little too constricting and warm for her liking, but when the weather falls cold she will suffer through the long winter months in leggings and skinny jeans. Her footwear of choice is usually one of her various pairs of multicolored Converse, though she's been seen wearing combat boots in the winter and flip flops on the more sweltering days in the summer. Up top she always wears a thin tank top of some kind, usually underneath a slouchy off the shoulder tee. She prefers to wear thick hoodies as opposed to actual coats or jackets, but she does own one winter coat just in case she needs to venture outside in the heart of the cold. Additional Information: Goals:
To pull herself as far away from her origins as humanly possible. She wants to separate herself from her upbringing and everything that it included.Fears:
Ending up just like her parents, her family finding her, and losing control of her powers.Strengths:
Creativity with problem solving and an almost unshakable self confidence.Weaknesses:
Poor impulse control and notoriously procrastinating.Hobbies/Quirks:
Tabitha has an extensive CD collection and has it marked as one of her most prized possessions, as well as a broad collection of movies, mainly action and horror. She also has the odd habit of pulling the tabs off of soda and energy drink cans and keeping them, it's not uncommon for there to be small stashes of them littered about her room and at the bottom of her purse and book bag.Likes:
Talking About Her Past
Tabitha is able to create balls of plasma, which she has affectionately dubbed her “time bombs”, which explode with varying degrees of concussive force. The bombs can vary in size, from small marble sized spheres which she uses for pulling all sorts of pranks that have minimal concussive force, to bombs the size of beach balls that hold enough power to blow apart denser materials such as wood, metal, or even concrete.
The size of the bomb directly relates to the power of the explosion, so she has to take careful consideration when creating her bombs. She can, to a certain degree, delay the detonation for a maximum of fifteen seconds. She can create more than one of these bombs at a time, often creating a handful of small bombs and scattering them on the ground to create a cluster of explosive caltrops. The smaller the bomb, the easier it is for her to handle and she's taught herself how to reabsorb those that are smaller in size with minimal ill effect.Weakness or Flaws:
She is not immune to the effects of her own blasts, and can be harmed by their force and the destruction they cause. She cannot delay their detonation indefinitely, the longest she's ever been able to hold off is fifteen seconds, and it was an immense struggle. She finds it easier and less stressful just to say her limit is ten seconds, because it's less taxing for her.
She's also a little afraid to make bombs too large, because once she creates them past a certain size she cannot reabsorb them. Tabitha can reabsorb her smaller bombs with no ill effect, but once they reach baseball size, she has no choice but to throw it and hope for the best. It is worth noting, that she has zero control over the volume of the explosions she causes, so stealth and discretion are definitely not strong points for her.Abilities/Skills:
Considering the rather rough crowd she used to run with, Tabitha has a certain degree of training in hand to hand combat. Learning to hold her own in a fight was one of the first things she had to do if she wanted to be taken seriously. Nothing spectacular, but being in as many brawls as she has, she knows how to hold her own, though anyone with formal training could overcome her.
She also possesses a unique set of skills when it comes to less than legal activities. Be it hot wiring a car, breaking and entering, or picking a lock, Tabitha can usually get it done provided with enough time and enough makeshift tools. While these are not skills she needs to utilize on a regular basis anymore, she finds them incredibly handy when pulling pranks.Occupation
Roanoke, VirginiaImmediate Family:
Marty Smith (father), Amanda “Mandy” Smith (mother)Others:
She's started fresh, so nothing hereCharacter History
To say life was all sunshine and rainbows would be a bold faced lie, but a lie that Marty and Mandy Smith taught their young daughter to tell quite well. In her early years life had been relatively normal, going to school, coming home to play and spend time with her family, then going to bed. Wash, rinse, repeat. The typical All American family living in Virginia, going about their routines and generally loving each other and loving their combined life as a unit that anyone would fell all warm and tingly about. It was all very cookie cutter and bland, until suddenly it just wasn't.
She could never tell if the changes in her life were actually changes, or if she was just getting old enough to notice that things weren't quite as perfect as she thought they were. She always knew her family wasn't that financially stable, but then again that was the story for many of the families in her neighborhood so she just thought that having to go without was a part of every day life. So of course she never thought twice when her father would come home really late some nights, or sometimes not at all. It was a little frightening when police officers would come to her front door and take him away for a few days, but he would always come back, if a little more irritable and sullen than when he left.
Her mother was always there for her when her father wasn't, but in Tabitha's eyes, Marty Smith was the best person on the face of the planet. He was big and strong and he would tuck her in at night and make sure there were no goblins hiding in her closet, as much as he grumbled and complained that she was being foolish for making him check, he never failed to deliver the news that all the dark crevices in her room were 'goblin free'. Mandy was a sweet woman and did the best she could with her situation, which often left her frazzled and at a loss. Sometimes the woman would hustle about like a chicken with its head cut off, zipping between tasks with such ferocity that she would often forget about one or the other, which often times lead to food being burnt or a load of laundry not getting put in the dryer on time. It was a little hectic, but Tabitha never faulted her mother, because at the end of the day Mandy's chocolate chip cookies were always the best because
they were burnt just the tiniest bit on the bottom.
The most gradual shift in her life, the thing that changed and she was never able to pinpoint exactly when or why, was when she and her parents stopped getting along. It was as if she woke up one morning and realized they barely spoke to her, barely acknowledging the fact that she existed in their home. If she kept quiet and kept her head down, they wouldn't pay her any mind and the three of them would shuffle about each other in a strange mockery of what they once had, and if she actually did need anything from one of them, it turned into an awkward game of 'Let's Figure Out How to Not Get Yelled At'. Meals weren't being eaten at the table anymore, the three of them retreating to their own corners of the small house to consume their food in silence, and soon it was only Tabitha and Mandy in the house at any given moment, Marty's presence becoming sort of an anomaly that was so irregular and weird Tabitha found herself vacating the house whenever he was home. She was glad she had a couple of friends that would let her crash on their couch whenever she needed.
Coming home after her nights away, it was like nobody had even noticed she was gone. There were never any leftovers set aside for her, no notes left around the house for her to find, none of the typical things parents did when their kids were absent for a significant amount of time. She started spending less time at home when she could, going out with her group of friends and staying out as late as possible, even on school nights. Some of them were significantly older than Tabitha, but that never bothered her since they never treated her like a kid. When Mandy had to get a third shift job at a factory to make ends meet, Tabitha silently rejoiced. Not having to put up with the awkward silences and the strange glances was a blessing, she could just go about her life in whatever fashion she wanted without worrying about waking her mother after a long night of hanging out with her friends past curfew.
The only thing she had to worry about now, were the couple nights a week when Marty decided to grace the house with his presence. She didn't really know how half the arguments even started but they usually finished with them both screaming at each other and threatening physical violence if the other didn't stand down. It was a dance they did around each other, swinging between quiet avoidance and hostile confrontations. The neighbors heard every word of every exchange, but if any of them ever thought about calling the police they never acted on it. Tabitha would often try to complain to her mother about the fights, but Mandy would always brush her daughters concerns under the rug with a gruff dismissal, claiming that times were tough for the family and that Tabitha should understand all the stress being put on her parent and stop taking things so personally.
Tabitha couldn't find it in herself to take her mother's abrupt file for divorce in stride. It was almost fascinating how detached Tabitha forced herself to be while Mandy packed up all of her belongings and loaded them into her car, and that was all it took. In the span of an afternoon Mandy had effectively cut herself out of the Smith family unit and rode off into the sunset without so much as a glance back at the daughter she was leaving behind. Excuse after excuse had been made of course as to why Tabitha couldn't come along. There wouldn't be enough room at the new apartment, it wouldn't be right to move Tabitha to a new school in the middle of the year, Mandy needed time to earn more money before she was able to support anyone other than herself. The excuses made Tabitha scoff every time she thought of them, because she'd seen the way her mother had made goo goo eyes at the 'friend' that helped her pack and leave.
Mandy just wanted a fresh start and a clean slate with no kid to worry about, how could Tabitha not take it personally?
For a while she had complete free reign over the house, having her friends over for days at a time doing less than legal things and generally making the best of the way life had decided to utterly shaft her. They would stay out late, vandalize various properties around the neighborhood, even break into a few houses on occasion. Honestly they were lucky they never got caught. She chalked their incredible luck up to her friends, and by extension herself, being associated with one of the local gangs that owned her neighborhood. Being associated with these people gave her opportunities she wouldn't have normally had access to, mainly in the respect that she could make a decent amount of money by just standing around watching for cops and delivering packages around town. Sure she knew it was dangerous and that one wrong move could land her in jail or worse, but the cash was just too good to turn down, especially when Mary wasn't really bringing home any impressive income. Between Tabitha and her group of friends, there really wasn't anything they couldn't get their hands on. One of her older friends was even an apprentice at a local tattoo shop, Tabitha of course always willing to be his guinea pig. Thankfully only a couple of them ever got infected.
Life was falling into a chaotic routine for her, she'd already dropped out of school once she'd turned sixteen so she had nothing to worry about there, but when Marty started staying home more often again things only intensified between him and Tabitha. He was under the impression that he could storm back into the house and try to be an authoritarian figure and Tabs was having absolutely none of it. As far as she was concerned he could waltz right out of her life just like her mother had, preferably right into a jail cell since that's where he liked to spend most of his time.
One night she decided to voice those thoughts. That was the night when things actually came to blows, and was also the night Tabitha discovered that she was something a little more, or a maybe a little less, than human.
She'd run out of things to throw at her father, an he was coming at her quickly. Suddenly feeling something small in her hand she didn't think twice about whipping it directly at his face. When it connected however, it exploded with a loud and powerful sound, and suddenly he was rolling on the floor practically howling in pain. When she couched down to berate him for being a wimp she managed to catch a glimpse of his face and she was instantly horrified. It looked like some kind of powerful firework had gone off right against his skin. She tended to him as best as she could, and when it was decided and ambulance wasn't needed, Marty simply retired to his room without another word.
Tabitha however, didn't sleep at all that night. She was too freaked out by what had happened. She sat on her bed all night, making tiny little orbs form from the palms of her hands and throwing them out her bedroom window. She didn't go out the next day either, simply locking herself away in her bedroom, too afraid of herself to even attempt to show her face in the light of day. She'd heard about mutants and all the different kinds of powers they possessed, but she never thought she'd come across one, let alone be
one. She eventually got onto her laptop and Googled everything she could about mutants and the things they could do. She couldn't figure out what to think or how to feel about the entire thing.
So she decided to not feel anything and just act.
She left home before her father returned from wherever it was e went during that day, certainly not work, and didn't even bother leaving a note. She just took all the money from his lock box and bailed, hiking to the nearest station and buying a ticket for the first departing bus. Once she made it out of Virginia she just kind of floated around for a while, surviving off of the money she stole from her father, but sadly it didn't last as long as she would have liked.
She started off small, using her new powers to bust open payphones and lotto machines to get what cash she could, but eventually she had to resort to blowing open ATM's. She never spent her ill-gotten finances very wisely, usually wandering into whatever low-brow tattoo shops would take her on as a client, buying (sometimes just stealing) over-priced clothes from shopping malls, grabbing large bags of fast food, and then finding a cheap and dirty motel to crash in for a night or two, then moving on to the next county before anyone could catch up with her.
She continued to exist in this state of extreme flux for a couple of months until someone approached her about a school for young mutants with nowhere to go. They explained that they had been watching her for a while, and that they felt she would be an ideal candidate for their school. They described it as the perfect place for her, a place where she could be safe and sheltered and not have to worry about where she was going to get her next meal. It sounded like a perfect fit, she wouldn't have to wander around and sleep on park benches or in homeless shelters when she ran out of cash, she could finally pick up her education where it had left off. While a diploma wasn't a high priority for her, she figured if it was an option she should probably at least try if she wanted to ever get any kind of 'real' job.
She accepted the offer without much hesitation, and before she knew it she was unpacking her over stuffed duffle bag in her new room at Xavier's School.
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The day was nice enough, so she figured why not get a little bit of exercise and fun time in while she had the chance. Sure she could have checked the weather app on her phone just to make sure, or she could have flipped through the weather channel on the television for a quick update, or even taken a look at the storm clouds that were rolling in, but no, she saw what she thought was an opportunity and she took it. It had been fun for the couple of hours the sun decided to fight off the oncoming rain clouds. Skateboarding up and down the paved sidewalks kept her entertained until the first few patters of rain began to leak from the heavens and spackle the immaculate sidewalks. They hadn't bothered her, and she should have known better.
Now she trudged toward the closest entry, skateboard tucked under one arm and a somewhat disappointed grin plastered onto her face. Yeah she got to play outside for a little bit but she would have thoroughly enjoyed a nice long afternoon of horsing around and generally not having to worry about anything but scraped knees and maybe a banged noggin if she took a hard enough tumble. Glancing around at her surroundings she saw various other students in a similar position as herself, though they looked to be in a much bigger rush to get inside than she was.
“Eyy, whassa matter? You afraid you're gonna melt or somethin?” A boisterous laugh ripped its way up her throat and and gave a little wave when the group visibly rolled their eyes at her. Obviously her humor was lost on them. “Run run run!” She made a shooing motion to a pair of students that made their way past her on the sidewalk, slyly slipping a tiny bomb to roll after their heels and laughing as it detonated behind them. They both shrieked and started jogging double time, one of them turning to smile ruefully at her before hustling toward the building, the other one not nearly as entertained with her antics.
Her pace didn't hasten at all, she wasn't worried. A little water wasn't going to kill her, she knew that, and clothes were washable enough, she wasn't worried about that either. She was slightly concerned about her new shoes getting ruined but she had no one to blame but herself, loathe as she was to admit that fact.
Reaching the set of steps that lead up to the main entrance of the school she began her ascent , and once she was under the awning and out of the gradually intensifying line of fire of the rain, she turned to look back out over the grounds of the school. It was a pretty sight anyway, and the rain was cleaning the air and giving it a clean and refreshed scent. If she was lucky it would be a brief downpour and she could get back to her outdoors shenanigans soon enough, after she got into a change of clothes of course.
She started to turn back around to head back inside when she bumped shoulders harshly with someone and she let out a surprised yelp, her skateboard falling free from under her arm and gracelessly clattering down the steps before sliding away on the paved walkway and coming to a pathetic stop in a patch of soggy grass. Well darn, not that the extra dose of rainwater would be a problem but the extra effort would definitely be a minor pain in the rear.
“Woah hey! My bad! I wasn't looking where I was going, sorry dude. Geeze...”
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