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Time flies. Time bends. Time wounds all, heals. Time, rosemary and. Time ends.
Wise words. Someone else’s. Time spins endlessly, around me, within me, each piece of it a piece of me. Stretching forward and backward. In spirals, in boxes, in waves, in everything, in nothing. Going back continuously beyond a point where even the concept existed. Going forward beyond the knowledge of all that is known and dreamed of.
All time is better than looking to my own. I am a microcosm within the macrocosm. A dot cycling around a drain that’s a black hole sucking everything deeper. Like everyone. But their times are simpler, cleaner, correct, linear.
My time was broken. I lived five years, and in one second, the blink of losing and grabbing hands, that was seven years, I was twelve. Short years later, in one second, this one of blinding brightness and bitter
I am dead. I am alive.
Was before the Demon, was before the mutation. Neither gave me anything more than the first thing my parents did; a name to call an idea that always was, now consciously existing.
Short. Blonde. Blue eyes.
Russian. Three-fifths demon.
Frequently quiet and cantankerous.
Eldrich Gate. Sorceress. New Mutant.
Illyana Rasputin, aka Magik, is from X-Men Comics and belongs to Marvel. She appears here for the purpose of writing in milliways_bar and theatrical_muse.