Mattis Rysten Monroe | 24 | Sensory Manipulation | Mentions: Directly: Evelyn and Axel. Indirectly: Everyone within the Manor
As Mattis stepped off the plane, his face broke into a dazzling smile as he spotted an older gentleman holding a sign for “Scarlet Manor.” Fancy, Mattis thought to himself. The young man quickly maneuvered around the other people and bounded over to him, his blonde curls bouncing with each step.
“Mr. Walker?” he asked eagerly, his eyes bright with anticipation. The old man gave a subtle nod, his expression stoic yet welcoming. Without hesitation, Mattis extended his hand in greeting.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Walker,” Mattis said with genuine warmth, his handshake firm and confident. Mr. Walker returned the gesture before reaching for Mattis’s bag, motioning for Mattis to follow him. Mattis blanched and stopped the older man, lightly touching his arm.
“Oh! No, it’s okay! I got it, but thank you, Mr. Walker. Heavy stuff in there.” He gave a soft smile, noticing the strain on Mr. Walker's face. The man blinked once before he let go of Mattis's bag, his face masking any emotions. Mr. Walker reminded Mattis of his grandfather, and while Mattis understood this was his literal job, he couldn’t just let him carry his bags, especially if there were others coming. The old man must have been doing this all day, exhausting work dealing with the enhanced.
Mr. Walker moved quickly through the crowd; his plump body moved faster than Mattis expected, his long strides easily keeping up with the gentleman. As they exited the airport, Mr. Walker opened the door to the sleek limo and motioned for Mattis to get in. For once, Mattis hesitated. Why was he going? His family loved him, he had an education, a home. Everything. So why go?
Mr. Walker must have sensed his inner conflict, as he cleared his throat and motioned once more, ending Mattis's spiral. This time, Mattis hopped into the luxurious limo without further hesitation. The engine purred to life as Mr. Walker settled into the driver's seat, and with a smooth motion, the partition rolled up, creating a sense of privacy within the elegant confines of the vehicle.
Lost in his thoughts, Mattis didn’t even realize when Mr. Walker deftly retrieved his luggage and stowed it in the back of the limo. Butler be damned, Mattis should have noticed and put the luggage away.
Glancing out of the tinted window, Mattis watched as the scenery whizzed by, the familiar sights of the city gradually giving way to open countryside. The rhythmic hum of the engine and the gentle swaying of the limo seemed to lull him into a state of introspection, where questions and uncertainties loomed large in his mind.
As Mattis sat in the plush leather seat of the limo, he couldn't help but notice the ice bucket with wine and glasses placed elegantly on a small table. Curiosity piqued, he reached for the letter nestled beside the wine glasses, his fingers trembling slightly as he unfolded it.
As he read the contents of the letter, each word felt like a dagger piercing his heart. Once again, the doubts that had been lingering at the back of his mind surged to the forefront, threatening to overwhelm him. Leaving his family behind for an unknown future was a decision he had made with conviction, but now, faced with the reality of his choice, doubts began to creep in.
Who was this Mistress Morrigan, and what role did she play in his life now? Questions swirled in Mattis's mind, casting a shadow of uncertainty over his once-clear intentions. He couldn't shake the feeling of guilt that gnawed at him, knowing that his actions had caused pain and confusion for those he loved most.
His parents had been with him when he received the first letter. His mother was distraught, her eyes red with brimming tears, but his father remained silent. The look on his father's face, however, spoke volumes. It was a mixture of pride and sadness, a silent acknowledgment of Mattis's potential and the sacrifices that lay ahead.
That look gave Mattis the push he needed. His father knew that Mattis was destined for more than the small town he grew up in. They wanted more for their son, and deep down, Mattis wanted more for himself too. His mother eventually came to terms with the situation, her initial distress giving way to a reluctant acceptance. She agreed that Mattis deserved to expand and hone his powers. Their abilities were simple compared to his own, and they knew he couldn't rely on them for guidance in this unfamiliar territory. His powers were complex, to say the least—dangerous was an understatement. His family had already been forced to leave their previous home, settling in a small, almost vacant town after a disturbing incident involving a classmate. It was the safest option for Mattis and the residents as he began to explore his powers.
Memories of the incident flooded back to Mattis, his hands curling into tight fists. Blood, glass, and screams echoed in his mind, a haunting reminder of the destructive potential within him. It was a painful chapter in Mattis's past, one that he carried with him as a constant reminder of the need for caution and restraint. It was the memory his father often brought up, a stark reminder of the consequences of losing control of his abilities.
With a deep breath, Mattis steeled himself, attempting to push aside the swirling emotions within him. Seeking a momentary distraction, he reached for the ice bucket and poured himself a small glass of wine. As he brought the glass to his lips, the bitter taste assaulted his senses, causing his face to contort in disgust. How did anyone even drink this stuff? It was nothing more than bad grape juice, a poor attempt at sophistication that only served to amplify his unease.
Yet, despite the unpleasant taste, Mattis forced himself to swallow and finish the glass, hoping that the alcohol would numb the doubts and fears that threatened to consume him. However, as the bitter liquid slid down his throat, it offered no solace, only adding to the turmoil within.
He sat in silence, the rhythmic humming of the engine the only sound permeating the luxurious confines of the limo. Restless, he twiddled his thumbs and stared out of the window, the passing scenery a blur of endless farm fields and forests. Michigan was truly beautiful, yet Mattis found no comfort in its serene landscapes.
Try as he might, Mattis couldn't settle into the journey. His excitement mixed with apprehension, creating a whirlwind of emotions that left him feeling adrift in an uncertain sea. He noticed a little button and began to press it, realizing it opened the partition. Almost immediately, Mattis started moving it up and down, watching Mr. Walker’s eyes crease in annoyance - yet still not saying anything. Finally, Mattis gave it a rest, only because he was scared of breaking it. He leaned forward, his head on his arms, resting where the partition would come up, his blonde curls falling slightly onto his face.
“Mr. Walker, can I ask you a question?” Mattis asked, adjusting his position so his chin was resting more on his wrists, facing this windshield. Mr. Walker’s entire face said no, but Mattis couldn't resist the urge to inquire further.
“What… Who is Mistress Morrigan? What is she like?” At that, Mr. Walker stiffened, his knuckles turning white around the steering wheel. Mattis’s eyes burned brightly for a moment, his fingers barely touching Mr. Walker’s neck, easing the old man’s guard down. He had to know what he was getting into. Who he was dealing with.
“Mistress Morrigan,” Mr. Walker started, almost confused as to why he was even talking, hesitation lingering in his voice, “is a very kind woman. She is lonely though, the mansion isn’t quite the same since...” He paused, glancing at Mattis, whose clear blue eyes were dancing with mixed emotions, his fingers still gracing the side of the old man's neck. Mr. Walker cleared his throat gently, “She does not laugh the way she used to. Almost haunting the home now.” The old man’s face was riddled with sorrow, a sight that made Mattis almost tear up.
“She is very gracious,” Mr. Walker smiled at that, a glimmer of hope in his eyes, “Perhaps you and the others will allow our Mistress to smile again, a genuine smile.” He nodded, pleased with himself. The exchange left Mattis with more questions than answers, but he relented.
“Thank you, Mr. Walker,” Mattis murmured, sliding back into his seat. He leaned his head against the window, leaving the partition down. It was almost 5 pm at this point, yet the sun still raged on, letting the warmth sink into his skin. It wasn’t long before they pulled into the gates, a large M guarded the front.
It was about a 20-minute drive before they reached the actual mansion. Gods, was it gorgeous. Better than anything Mattis had ever seen. And the Mistress was still depressed? Mattis jumped out as soon as the car slowed enough, letting out a low whistle as Mr. Walker came over, a ghost of a scowl on his face for not being able to open the door. Mattis smiled at him, appreciating the old man's efforts nonetheless.
The sight of the mansion left Mattis in awe. Its architecture was majestic, standing proud amidst the sprawling grounds. The sun cast long shadows, accentuating the grandeur of the structure. Every detail seemed meticulously crafted, from the ornate carvings on the doors to the intricate patterns in the glass windows. As Mattis took in the sight before him, all doubts seemed to wash away, he couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement bubbling within him.
Mr. Walker plopped Mattis’s luggage on the ground, with a curt nod, before disappearing into the limo, leaving Mattis to walk to the house alone. He opened the door to find multiple individuals gathered inside. One tall young woman, with tattoos covering her arms, caught his eye. His jaw basically dropped; holy shit, those are awesome! Mattis had a few tattoos himself, but they were not as prominently displayed as hers, mostly on his back, chest and upper thighs. He made a mental note to befriend her.
As Mattis stepped further into the room, he noticed the diverse group of people gathered there, each with their own unique appearance and aura. He quickly studied the shorter man with fluffy hair next to the tall woman - who seemed to be friends, before looking at a frigid-looking woman with snow-white hair. Moving to another short individual who had on black cargo pants and a jacket - despite how warm it was. Mattis took in the group before him, he looked at a few others there, but found himself glancing back at the person with the black wolf-cut hairstyle.
He frowned as he realized everyone seemed very separated, each lost in their own thoughts and worlds, besides the two who appeared to be friends. The atmosphere was heavy with unspoken tension, and Mattis could sense the reluctance of the others to engage in conversation. He wondered why that was—shouldn’t they all be trying to get to know one another? How often did this happen? A group of enhanced individuals, brought together to one strange place, at the request of some random woman.
Mattis stretched his neck, a loud popping noise echoing in the air as he cracked it. Rolling his shoulders once, he strode over to the duo, his eagerness to break the ice evident in his strides. As he approached, he offered them a friendly smile.
“Hey, I’m Mattis,” he introduced himself, extending his hand in greeting. He loved making new friends and had no issues befriending strangers. Sitting idly by was not his style; he preferred to dive into conversations and connect with those around him, especially since Mr. Walker was not much of a conversationalist. Left to his own thoughts for majority of the ride, Mattis was eager for some lively interaction.