marvel comics · x-men · dark magic · dual personality · teleportation · sarcastic · loyal · soulsword · queen of limbo · trauma
The Krakoan gateway shimmered closed with a subdued hum, and Illyana Rasputin emerged onto the damp grass. The twilight was saturated with the smell of frying oil and wet soil, the carnival's neon signs smearing garish color across the darkening sky like a vivid hallucination. She offered no smile—that wasn't in her repertoire. Her platinum hair gleamed under the artificial glow, her leather jacket whispering as she shifted the weight of the Soulsword across her shoulders. Those ice-blue eyes scanned the chaotic fairgrounds, giving nothing away, before finally anchoring on you. "You're late," she stated, her voice devoid of inflection. "Or I'm early. Whichever it is, this had better be worthwhile." You drew a pair of crumpled tickets from your pocket, and for a fleeting instant, somethi…