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Jean Grey School for Higher Learning, Salem Center, New York.
The darkness that clouded Illyana's vision was steadily illuminated by the soft glow of the rising sun shining through the curtains, coaxing her to open her eyes. Steadily, she sat up: another dreamless sleep- at least- that's what she remembers. Illyana was a woman plagued by either nightmares or no dreams at all, waking up in a cold sweat seemed to imply the latter.
Glancing at the alarm clock at her nightstand, reading 5:30 A.M, right on time. Sliding out of bed, she steps into some bunny slippers and makes her way out of the room, not bothering to make her bed.
It was quite early, and the mansion was sparsely lit at this hour, a few lights from the halls and various rooms bathed the scenery in a warm, orange hue. It was Winter Break for the students, there was no need to wake up in the early dawn to prepare for their studies, yet, Illyana was no student.
She was an X-Man, at least a somewhat dutiful one at that, and although her aloof demeanor suggests otherwise, Illyana wanted to be geared up, prepared for any threats, missions, and mishaps she and the X-Men may find themselves stumbling into as they often do. But for now, Illyana was out for coffee and some pancakes. At this hour, nobody would be awake to interrupt her, leaving her to eat in peace.
Though, that wasn't the whole truth. Illyana was not the only one awake, and she wasn't just out here for pancakes; she was out here for Marie-Ange.
It was something she hardly took notice of at first, but every few days, while Illyana was silently flipping hotcakes in the early morning, her peace was interrupted by the sound of a piano in the next room over. Initially, she was a bit miffed, why was Marie-Ange up at this hour? To play the piano? Was she trying to wake everyone up?
These were trivial questions she grumbled to herself before scarfing down her breakfast and shuffling back upstairs to get ready for the day proper. But, as it continued, Illyana found herself staying to listen, at first, only for a few moments, then for a few minutes. Eventually, Illyana would stay in the kitchen, listening to Marie-Ange play until she decided to stop.
But, Marie-Ange never noticed. She didn't notice the one-woman audience she had garnered, for Illyana did not make herself known. Regrettably, Illyana had grown quite fond of Marie-Ange, her piano playing, of course. The piano was a very powerful instrument, Illyana heard that the piano is the true key to the soul, Illyana believed she lacked a true soul, a piece of her she lost long ago. So why is it when Marie-Ange played, she felt? Felt more than she cared to admit?
When Illyana first met Marie-Ange, they had been enemies on opposite teams, the New Mutants and the Hellions respectively. But that was a long time ago, many of each teams' members have let bygones be bygones, and even began to forge new relationships, if Rahne and Sharon were anything to go by. How can she bring herself to interrupt such a private moment for her?
Illyana always felt out of reach with Marie-Ange, she had armor even around her closest friends, the years had changed her, deeply changed her, whether it was ultimately for the better or for the worst was something she didn't care to answer. The French woman was soft spoken, even a bit shy, if she got to know the real Illyana, she would talk to her even less than she does now, wouldn't she?
But Illyana can't shake the distant glances that Marie-Ange gives her, observing her with sad, longing eyes, as if Illyana didn't notice. But, she supposed, that Marie-Ange was like any other girl, wanting to make a connection... Deep down, Illyana was no different.
Was the ruthless warrior that is Illyana Rasputin brave enough to make this connection? Perhaps, perhaps not. 'When I'm ready', Illyana thought to herself.
And so, Illyana finished cooking her pancakes, grabbing maple syrup from the refrigerator and emptying nearly half the bottle over her breakfast, completely drowning it, just the way she liked it.
And right on cue, the gentle, fluttering notes began to flow from the common room and into the kitchen. Illyana sat down against the wall, bringing her plate onto her lap, enjoying her breakfast and letting herself feel the concert just for her.
Marie-Ange’s hands glided over the keys with gentleness and great precision, her eyes closed as she allowed herself to be immersed inside of her own world. Despite her clairvoyance, Marie-Ange got lost in her own music very easily.
But, she couldn’t blame herself, not when for the past few weeks, this piano felt like the only voice she had, the only way to speak her feelings without the vulnerability of intelligible words. This way, Marie-Ange allowed herself to hurt, to validate the feelings she kept inside. Was this what it was like to be trapped? Like a still image printed onto a card? Only she felt like a card that couldn’t spring to life at someones fingertips.
Every day, it ate her up inside, for the X-Men, death felt like an intrinsic part of their lives, something devastating, but adaptable, standing strong no matter how dire the times are? But Marie-Ange was not standing strong, she was sitting, sitting at a piano, her voice falling on deaf ears, ears she was hardly comfortable listening in anyway. Marie-Ange felt alone.
Suddenly, a voice would cut through Marie-Ange’s funk, “Hey there,” Illyana spoke.
Marie-Ange yelped, the slow, cheery melody that always had a hint of sadness abruptly ended with a ‘clank’. “A-Ah! I-Illyana..? What brings you down here so early..?”
”I could ask the same of you,” Illyana responded, “… That’s some nice playing.” Marie-Ange could practically feel the smug crossing of the arms that Illyana was pulling right now.
Marie-Ange put her hands in her lap, her gaze downtrodden sheepishly as a light blush dusted her cheeks, “Yes, well… I like to play the piano, I have for a long time.” She twiddled her thumbs, feeling even more embarrassed at having to explain herself, “It really calms my mind, you know?”
After a small pause, Illyana lightly chortled, shaking her head, “That’s so stupid.” Though, after a longer beat of silence, Marie-Ange felt the tentative grip of Illyana’s hand on her shoulder. “Do.. Do you think you could teach me?” Illyana broached quietly, her gaze was on the piano, tensely brushing some hair behind her ear, as if expecting Marie-Ange to deny her without a moments consideration.
“Okay…” Marie-Ange nodded with a small smile, feeling the slightest bit more comfortable, and happy to know that Illyana wanted to participate in her interests, she felt compelled to do the same. “But— only if you teach me how to get better at wielding magic, s’il te plaît?” She tilted her head to get a better look at Illyana, her tentative smile growing to an eager grin.
Illyana finally glanced back at Marie-Ange, mirroring the curve of her lips with her own, “…You have yourself a deal, Colbert.” And with that, Illyana took her seat next to Marie-Ange. The two would make funny sounds, banging on the keys in a pitiful attempt at music, which resulted in waking up most of the school.
But a connection was made, a connection neither Hellion or New Mutant would ever trade for the world.