The Art of Reflection

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Brief Title:

Characters:
Magik and White Queen

Scene Runner/Watcher:

IC Date:
04/02/13 11:36

Location:
Xavier Mansion - Administrative Office

Summary:
Magik appears in Emma's office to question the motive behind her teaching at Xavier's and winds up having a spotlight shine on painful memories of her own.

Social or Plot:

TS:
No

Log:
Magik lets herself into the same room with Emma by way of a stepping disc, having already verified Emma's location with her scrying pool. She's dressed casually, well, casually for Illyana anyways, but if anything at the very least it shows she doesn't have any demonic practices in mind. "The Vhite Queen..." Illyana speaks the title Emma held or perhaps still holds in the Hellfire Club, "vhat does the Vhite Queen have do vith teachink Ethics? I vonder..."

Emma glances up as she is suddenly no longer alone in her borrowed office, blinking in surprise as she realizes who the intruder is. "A bit more than the Queen of Limbo has with knocking before entering, clearly," she replies, the surprise fading into her usual subtly icy demeanor. "Though I presume you're here for more than rhetorical questions, Miss Rasputin," she adds, resting her elbows on her desk and steepling her fingers.

Illyana smirks as Emma brings up the issue of the rudeness of barging in on people unannounced, "vell, when you travel in style like I do, it's hart to remember," she grins mischeviously. "I vas never one to be too polite, vas I?" Illyana asks, her eyes shifting up for a moment as if thinking, and then level back on Emma, "but then I don't teach. Yes, you are right. I remember you, Ms. Frost, playink with heads..." she motions a finger at her temple and twirls it a bit, playfully. "So...I vonder, vhat you vant teachink Xavier kids...vith ethics, are you recruitink for Hellions again?"

"True, you weren't. It was one of your most, yet least endearing attributes." Emma smirks faintly. It quickly vanishes at the questions that follow. "Recruiting? Why? I leave that to other people these days. Frankly, there's more than enough room for two schools that teach mutants. And more than enough need for them both, to say the absolute least, given the events of this last year." Her eyes harden faintly as she speaks, though there is an air of brittleness to them as well, like a thin sheet of ice over water, pressed down to touch the surface of the liquid beneath.

"But I've already had a conversation very like this with the younger Mr. Summers, only a month or so ago. I think I made my point... that if I truly wanted to do anyone here any harm, or planned any mischief toward any of you, I could have long since done any and all such things by now. Which I doubt will convince you... you were always so stubborn like that... but it needed to be said."

"I alvays vas quite a charmink girl, vasn't I?" Illyana offers a radiant smile at Emma, with just a slight hint of it being fake. But when Emma seems to get a bit emotional when she answers, Illyana edges a bit closer to her, studying her face with fascination. If there's one thing that strikes Illyana as odd, is seeing Emma's visage as anything but a frozen cruel surface. "Vell, I vould haf say if you did try," Illyana taps her temple as a reminder of her demonic nature blocking telepaths from controlling or reading her. "But I also curious. Vhy Vhite Queen that steal New Mutants, cheatink and trickink Magneto, not vant to do same now?"

"I doubt very much that I could provide any answer that would convince you of my sincerity, save what I've already said. I've had ample opportunity to act against any and all of you... and I have not. Not even against Miss Pryde, even though she played a rather childish prank on me within a week of my arrival. Nor against any of those who have carped and whined at Miss Grey about my rehiring. And don't think the thought never crossed my mind." Emma meets Illyana's gaze unflinchingly, though her eyes somehow seem just slightly more brittle behind their hard exterior.

"Have you ever had someone you cared about very much die, Miss Rasputin? Have you ever faced up to the realization that /you/ were responsible for that death? That if you had done something... anything... differently, that person might still be alive? Have you ever wished you could have back all the opportunities you missed to tell them how much they truly meant to you?" Emma's eyes narrow, and she rises from her chair, hands resting on the desktop, leaning closer to Illyana, much as the younger woman had done to her. "/Have you/, Miss Rasputin?"

"Pryde playet a prank on you? Vaw...vhat did she do?" Illyana probes all of a sudden becoming very interested in what Emma has to say, losing a bit of her distrusting expression.

But then Emma goes into a line of conversation that draws a bit to near and too dear to Illyana. Had she ever! That little joviality at the notion of Kitty pranking Emma Frost dies quick, and Illyana gives the impression of a brick wall as all emotions melt away from her face. But it very quickly turns to be a facade, because the Russian girl soon breaks into tears, unable to stop crying as Emma inadvertently sets her thoughts and memories on many things she regrets, many people she hurt without meaning to, and the only thing she does is the very same she did when she encountered hardships as a student. She escapes in a flash of a stepping disc.

For a moment Emma's eyes glimmer wetly as she watches Illyana collapse into tears, an instant before she vanishes. For a moment the older blonde stares at the spot where the younger had vanished.

"I'm sorry, Miss Rasputin," she whispers. "I suppose I'll just have to leave you a memo instead." Sighing softly, she retakes her seat and reaches for a pen and a legal pad. Sure, she could type it out. But this deserves the personal touch.

[OOC] Emma's memo reads: "I'm sorry, Miss Rasputin. Clearly I hit a very raw nerve, and I hadn't meant to hurt you. Please consider what I said. Were you the same person afterward, Illyana? Look at the statue of the Hellions in the memorial garden. Count those young faces. Multiply my regrets by that number, and you'll get the tip of the iceberg of what I must live with, each and every day. That is your 'why'."

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