Rebels & Mutineers is set in modern day New Orleans, Louisiana. R&M is fueled by player's plots and group input.
Supernatural people have always had their place in society, hidden in plain sight or locked away for their own protection. New Orleans, a haven for the strange and mysterious and a magnet for the supernatural.
Established: Oct. 27th, 2018 Recently Updated Posts && Recently Updated Threads
05.11.19
As the community reels from the untimely death of Lucia Lovelle, life has to move on. Primrose readies for the annual Prom celebration! Keep your eye out for a event board and have fun!
02.27.19
It's not too late to vote for February's OTM winners! The winners for January, keep an eye out on your messages for your winner's graphics for your signature. Already voted? Make sure you check out the Mardi Gras event board! Party up, have a good time, and enjoy!
Rosalie turned the key in her car, cutting off all power to the ignition. It was the first time in a really long time that she was getting back to the ym, and to be honest, she was dreading it already. She knew that she wasn’t as in shape as she had used to be; her job had taken up so much of her time that it had completely killed any opportunity for her to actually go. However, now that she had a little less on her plate—turns out that having a research project as well as a teaching position took up a lot of time—she was able to actually do the things that relaxed her and that she enjoyed. Namely, she was able to go to the gym, to slap on a pair of gloves and hit the weighted bag until it no longer sneered at her the way that her father did every time they had dinner together “as a family”. She was the oldest, she was expected to set a good example, but she hadn’t exactly flourished under cult living; she had grown up to resent the lifestyle that her parents practiced, though her mother hadn’t exactly seemed to happy about it by the end.
The one memory that stuck with her the most when she thought about her father was the way that he slapped her across the face when she made one little comment. Secretly, she had relished in the anger that had flashed across his face the moment that she asked whether or not her half siblings would be joining them, or if they were meant to parade around like they were the only children of the Head of the Eight. The slap itself had left a bruise, an almost picture perfect circle of purple, blue, and green that slowly began to heal. In a way she had been sad when her mark of defiance had faded and she fell back into that perfect little image of the Head of the Eight’s perfect little family.
The memories rolled into her one after another, and by the time that Rosalie got to the door of the gym, she pushed it open hard enough that if it didn’t have hydraulic control hinges, it would have slammed against the wall in a way that got her kicked out. She checked in, breezing past the desk and got changed, pulling her hair back in a ponytail that made her eyes water. She needed to take up some disagreements and work out some frustration on that weighted bag. Putting her stuff in her locker, Rosalie walked out of the gym, fiddling with the gloves in her hand and paying less attention to where she was walking than she should have. However, it wasn’t long before she smacked into what felt like bare skin. Stumbling back, she reached up and pulled the headphones from her ears, an apology ready on her lips that died there.
Before her was a familiar chest, one that she had seen on numerous occasions. For a moment, she didn’t even move, her eyes remaining there as if afraid to look any higher. However, she knew that she would eventually have to acknowledge exactly who she ran into, and she swallowed hard as she looked up into the eyes of Grey Baptiste. Shit. “Grey…” Of course he came to this gym. Of course. Their history was long and complicated, and she knew that the second that she left him was the one that she had broken his heart, but it was something that she had to do. Not that she had ever explained that to him, doing so would have opened up a whole can of worms that she wasn’t prepared to share with anybody who wasn’t Astor Perona. Reaching up, she pulled her headphones properly out of her ears and wound them around her phone. She knew that she wasn’t getting out of this conversation with a brisque “sorry” and rushing past in her urgent need to kick the shit out of the nearest thing that wouldn’t hit back. “Um… Hi.” Brilliant, Rosalie, just fucking brilliant conversation. Reaching up, she tried to tuck back some of her bangs and failing miserably. “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”
Post by Grey Nicholas Baptiste on Apr 22, 2019 23:19:13 GMT
Grey first learned how to properly fight when he was living at Phalanx. Sure, he had gotten into fights before then, but that was usually more when he was getting teased on the island. That was more a sucker punch when some guy made comments about his sister. That was numerous broken fingers (especially his thumb) because he didn't know how to properly throw a punch. When he got to Phalanx, he was taught how to use his ability and he was taught how to properly defend himself. Jonathan Darby Carver took a shine to him, probably because the ability could be used to cheat in the boxing ring, but that was just how Carver was. Just how Grey wanted to keep it too. He was able to get into a lighter weight class then knock someone out cold with his density manipulation. Sometimes he had to deal with the unpleasant side effects of the ability, but that was what the mood stabilizers he choked down every morning was for. He brought that love of boxing, love of fighting to his adult life. He could have focused on being a mechanic, and being happy there, there was an allure of getting hit professionally that just made everything come into focus for him.
Whenever he felt like he was in a fog from the constant flux of his mood and energy, he could get into a ring and have his sense knocked back into him. The red glove that came flying at his face and knocking him back, that was a nice burst from the fog. He laid back on the ring, laughing as his sparring partner apologized. He sat back up, taking off his gloves to check the tenderness around his eye. It didn't seem to be too much. Still, she was apologizing and insisting that they didn't have to spar another again. "It's okay, you got a mean right hook on you, listen I'm out of a water, you need a refill?" He asked picking up his water bottle to show her it was empty. She declined and Grey smiled at her, "All you did was show me I don't gotta go easy on you anymore. Let's pick it back up when I get back."
He took the water bottle and hers, leaving the section of the gym with the boxing rings and heavy bags. His sparring partner was an old friend from Monroeville who recently got out. They met back up and she was terrified of her own shadow. Grey was trying to pay it forward from the time that Carver spent working with him. Carver understood the sort of things that Grey saw in Monroeville, he knew the demons that played around in a person's head after that. It took months in Phalanx for Grey to be sure that Ash wasn't going to send him back at the first trouble he caused. The first fight he got into there, he was sure that Ash was going to send him back. Instead he set him up with Carver and he learned how to do things better. How to channel his anger and his frustration at the world into something creative. That's what he wanted to do for her. To show her that no matter what Monroeville did to her, she was still stronger than it.
When he left the gym, he wasn't really paying attention. He was more focused on trying to figure out how to open her weird contraption of a water bottle and felt someone crash into him. He was about to apologize, not looking where he was going and all when he realized who it was.
Rosalie.
The smell of lavender and betrayal clouded his senses and he swore for a second he was almost happy to see her. Their history was deep and he missed her every second of the day. She was the most incredible woman he had ever met and she destroyed him. "Hi." He said, just as amazed to see her. "I wasn't either- um- water bottles." He said, just enough to make him want to hide under a rock for the rest of his life.
"What are you doing here?" An obvious question once he asked it, he just assumed that she would stop coming here after their break up. Assumed that she would be content that she got Phalanx in the breakup, Grey unable to go to the school he loved so much without risking seeing her. He would meet up with Carver and Ash, but would meet them in the community. He couldn't bring himself to risk seeing her and risk falling more in love with her.
Of all the things that Rosalie hadn’t expected to see, literally running into Grey at the gym was probably one of them. She knew that he had gone here when they were together, and she knew that it was entirely possible that he still went here, but what were the chances that she would run directly into him the moment that she walked into the door for the first time in months? High. Of course they were high, because her life was literally Murphy’s Law in action nine times out of ten and she had pulled enough shit in her lifetime that there was no way the universe was going to give her a pass this time. When they had broken up, she had thought about finding another gym; lord knew that there were plenty in New Orleans. In the end, she hadn’t found the time until she needed to go to one, and then there hadn’t been much thought beyond the blur of faces swimming before her eyes, her own face shifting under the helmet that she wore as she wove her motorcycle through traffic. She needed to go take her frustration out on a weighted bag, or maybe someone that she could needle into throwing a swing at her.
The trick would come in not going to work with a busted lip the next day, but she knew more than one healer in the supernatural community that wouldn’t ask questions. The perks of living a reckless lifestyle.
Rosalie watched the range of emotions flashing over Grey’s face, and felt a pang inside her chest that she hadn’t let herself feel since the last time she had seen him. That hadn’t worked out well for either of them. She had left him standing behind her, devastated without a real explanation of why she had broken it off with him, while she took off for a lost weekend in a city far enough away that nobody would know her name. Even if they did, she was wearing someone else’s face, and the only way that they would know who she was would be if they knew her bike. That weekend, she had drunk and danced her way through the pain that had taken root in her chest and blossomed, turning her cold and hard in a way that she had just let soften when she was around Grey. It had always been like that around him. It had only been like that around him. She felt compelled to explain something, to apologize, to throw herself at his feet and beg for him to not hate her, because she could still see the pain in his eyes and she felt like she was accountable for it. Because she was.
“Yeah, I uhm,” Rosalie hesitated, trying to think of a way to even continue this already awkward conversation. She had been just about ready to cry when she had pushed her way into the gym like a damn hurricane ready to tear up everything in its path, and now there was a different kind of tears that wanted to work their way up to her eyes. With a brutal force, she shoved them down. She would not cry, no matter what kind of day she was having. Her eyes flicked down to the water bottles in his arms, and a muscle in her jaw twitched as she realized it was entirely likely that he was here with someone. Someone who wasn’t his best friend Mallory and who definitely wasn’t her. “I don’t actually have anything to follow that, just forget I said anything.”
Reaching up, Rosalie tucked a strand of hair back behind her ears, tugging on it as she went, sending just enough pain through to her nerve endings that she could keep her pulse somewhat regulated. Not that it mattered, her legs felt like noodles and she was pretty sure that at this point she wasn’t going to have a visit with a heavyweight bag in the other room.
What are you doing here? Good fucking question.
Rosalie flinched at the words that fell from her ex’s lips, trying to pretend that it didn’t hurt to hear him say them. It wasn’t like she should be that surprised, their breakup… wasn’t pretty to say the least, and she was fully aware of the fact that she had reached her way into his chest cavity and tore out his heart in one of the bloodiest ways that she could manage. “Shit day,” her voice was quiet, and she couldn’t quite bring herself to look him in the eye. Instead, she glanced down at her hands as she fidgeted with her phone. Anything to keep her hands moving. “That paired with the obvious fact that it’s been way too long since I was at a gym means I needed to make a date with a heavyweight bag as soon as possible.” The comment was almost enough to make her sound like her old self. Her confident self. The part of her that he had always seen. “I’m sorry.” Her voice was quiet as she bit down on the inside of her lip. “I should have tried to go somewhere else.”
