Cold.
That's all that this night was. The fact that Merope Levine was clad only in a 16 year old's white t-shirt, which was full of holes, and mans black shirt and a blue jumper and a teenage boys jeans with one leg half riped off may have contributed to the cold, but Merope was used to it by now.
For so long, this had been her life - stealing clothes that didn't fit, eating wherever possible and taking whatever she could before moving on. All this alone. For 8 years she'd been alone. No-one to call a friend, father or brother. No-one to talk to - to listen to her dreams and ambitions, her plans, her ideas, her opinions. Her life.
It was getting to her.
More and more, she'd been feeling the need to communicate with other human beings, to tell people about herself and learn about them.
And not only learn about people.
She wanted to learn everything that there was in the world. Why the stars only came out at night. Why the grass was green, the ocean blue. Why did rainbows appear. How planes stayed up in the air.
For a long time now, every night before she fell asleep she would be thinking of all the things she was yet to do; own her own clothes, her own room, her own home. See the sun rise without fearing what was draged along in it's wake. To get to know someone, to love them and to be loved in return.
As her eyes drifted closed, her fingers tightened around her only ture possesion - a silver locket with M.L engraved on it. She'd found it in her father's room and discovered it had belonged to her mother, whom she'd never known, but shared that same initials and birthday with, but who's name she didn't know.
She was unaware of the figure who approached her secluded ally hiding place, shadow stretching to the dead end wall from the street lamps behind.

At the entrance of the dreary alley lay Emma Frost, the White Queen. In her radiant diamond form, clad in white from head to toe. It was obvious that she was not one for stealth. And who would be with an invulnerable diamond form? Head held high, she strode into the alley and advanced further until she stood before the dead end's wall, apparently unaware of the young female inhabitant. Standing there, she examined the graffiti tainted wall for a moment. It was laden with angry and intimidating threats to all mutantkind. Her facial expression, or the lack thereof did not change. She did not fear humans, for her sake, because they posed no threat to her, but for the sake of her students. Beneath her lustrous exterior, her heart grew heavy, as flashbacks of her failures to her students engulfed her mind. Quickly dismissing the unpleasant memories she investigated her surroundings further. Stepping here and there, she returned to her spot at the wall, however this time she faced the entrance. Morphing into her human form, Emma used her telepathy to suggest that the girl, Merope, awaken.

Clearing her throat Emma spoke, "Good evening Merope, I am Emma Frost, the White Queen. I am a teacher, and I understand that you are a student. A student who wishes to learn," Emma gracefully paced around the alley. "One who wishes to learn and understand this ever-changing world. I can give you this, Merope. I can show you why the stars shine, and why the grass is green. But most importantly I can teach you to hone, and master your unique abilites." With that, Emma extended her white-gloved hand to the young mutant, with hopes she would accept. "That is, if you're willing."

Merope's eye opened and for a moment, she was caught in that blissful state when you're awake, but still think your dreaming. But as she became more and more awake, her face change, contorting in fear of this woman.
This woman who knew her name. She'd told no-one her name for so long; how could she know?
Staring at the outstretched hand, Merope's fear took over. Employing her cover ability, she disappeared, but as she leapt to run, her form partially reappeared - becoming a blur.
She flew from the alley and into the street, tearing left and casting furtive glances behind her. The door to an appartment series lay a few feet away. She touched the door and unlocked it, barreling in. But the door didn't open, and she was sent sprawling to the ground.
Rolling, she jumpt up to her feet and spotted several teenagers running at her, brandishing large club-like things.
Flicking her fingers at them to use her knock-back, Merope turned to flee the way she'd come, leaving her cover ability off in a vain hope that she'd anger the youths no more.

"Hmph!" Emma quickly left the alley, and broke in a sort of graceful fast walk. Using her telepathy, Emma could easily track the girls wandering, so there was no real reason to rush. Upon turning a corner however, she realized that there just might be reason to. As Merope retreated from the angered youths Emma paused and the battle began. And in less than seconds it was over. Quickly, she took control of each member's mind, and forced their agression onto each other. All of them forgetting that Merope and herself ever existed. With the mob temporarily subdued, Emma tried to convince the girl to trust her once more.

"Child, do not be afraid. I am not here to harm you. I am here to help. We live in a world that fears and hates people like us. Us of course being mutants. We should be able to live freely in the open, without fear. But because of them," She turned and glanced at the melee. "we cannot." Emma hoped that something would get through to the girl. "It shouldn't be this way Merope. And it doesn't have to. I know about your struggle, how long you've been out here fighting to survive. If you help me to make this world safer for our kind, I can help you." Emma decided to make Merope an offer that she most definitely could not refuse.

"If you join me, I will help you unlock the secrets of your past."

Staring at the woman, Merope froze.
Before, she hadn't understood what the woman had said; it had been so long since anyone had spoken to her. But she was remembering. Parts of what this strange woman said she could understand - freedom, survival and saftey.
Merope's knee-jerk reaction was to bolt, but something about the woman wouldn't allow it. So instead, Merope turned invisible, but stayed where she was.
"Oo rart rough?" Merope grunted, realising that this wasn't english, but hoping she'd understand.
Merope had long ago stoped talking, and as a result she'd forgotten what talking was like; it was like re-learning how to speak.

Hearing the girl's grunting, Emma understood that they were odd attempts at English. After a moment, Emma found a solution for such a problem. Using her telepathy Emma linked her mind with Merope's allowing them to converse and be understood on both sides.

'Merope, I am Emma Frost. A teacher and a quite skilled telepath. That is how I know your name, and your needs. I'm speaking to you telepathically. This way, I can understand you, and you can understand me.'

At the sound of the voice in her head, Merope leaps back from the woman, any thought of cover gone.
She regards her suspiciously, eyes darting for some place to hide.
She takes a step towards the woman and, when she's sure she won't be hurt by her, takes another step. She extends her arm and her fingers brush the womans cheek. As her fingers connect, she jumps back again, as if surprised the woman is real.
Eyes narrowing, she takes a step back, eyes never leaving the woman.
She covers herself and runs back to the alley she came from, back to the same spot and hides again, fear quaking through her.
She'd understood almost the whole message this time, and it frightened her more than her sudden appearance when she awoke.
The woman knew what Merope wanted. What she craved, desired. What she lusted after, longed for and dreamed of. What she needed. Her father had known all of these things too - and look what he'd done. Manipulated her. Promised her what she wanted if she do this, that and the next thing. And whenever Merope asked when she'd get it, her father beat her, telling her that she'd not done well enough, that she would have been rewarded had she been good enough.
Merope equated this woman with her father. She'd jurt Merope. Manipulate her, take what she wanted. Then she'd leave.
No.

Emma stood motionless while the girl made contact with her. As Merope fled once again, Emma resumed her diamond form and then followed after her. Coming upon the frightened girl, she understood that perhaps this was not the place to begin with her new Hellions. Kneeling down to her level, Emma spoke to Merope.

"I am rather disappointed that you will not be joining me, Merope. But I must say, that it is your loss." Standing upright Emma turned and began making her way out of the dark alley. Before completely exiting though, she paused, transformed back into human form and looked back at the teen, leaving her with this final telepathic message:

"Understand, Merope, that we are fighting for survival. You have chosen a side to fight for, and it is not mine. Godspeed."

When the woman changed her skin, Merope stared.
She'd never seen anything so beautiful in her whole life. As it left, she followed, basking in it's glory.
When it turned back to flesh colour, she stared, wondering why it was so different.
A memory came to her, unbidden, of her father.

-----

"A mutant. A mutant! We're ruined, and it's all your fault." A tall, stocky man said, jabbing his finger at a pile on the floor.
That pile was Merope. A high, keening sound came from her, and her body shook with racking sobs. "F-father. F-f-forgive me! I wo-would not have c-c-chosen t-this."
"Who'd want to screw a mutant." He father asked, continuing as if she had not spoken. Then laughter, cruel and filled with spite and malice. "No-one, that's who. You're worthless." He advanced on her, brandishing a fist. And then, all that was left was pain.

-----

No.
The word came again, and she realised she had not been refusing the woman. She had been fighting the image of this woman and her father being the same.
Her father had caused her pain at every oppertunity, while this woman had saved her life and not laid a finger on her.
"Rait." A sob racks her body. "Srop."
Merope runs to her, stopping a few inches short. She leans into her face, searching. No malice. No cruelty. No hatred.
This woman was not like her father.
Merope reached out and closed a hand around the womans arm, not letting go.
"Reese." She tried. Tears, now, flowing down her face at her uselessness. She couldn't even communicate with this woman. She was pathetic.
But the woman.
She'd known. Known what Merope had meant.
And an idea formed in her head, a vision of the two of them standing side by side, together.

Emma, quite frankly, was shocked at the girls change of heart. But accepted it. For several seconds the two stood there, face to face. Staring into each other's eyes. Both searching for some sense of understanding. Gently breaking the girl's grasp on her arm, Emma spoke to the girl telepathically:

"Then it's settled. You will the be the first of many, Merope." And with another thought, a bright ivory limousine came to a rolling stop in front of them. The driver emerged from the wheel, and walked around the vehicle to open the door for Emma and Merope. Emma motioned for the girl to enter the vehicle first. The limo contained food, and a recently purchased batch of clothing. Emma had come prepared.

Before entering the vehicle, Emma glanced back at the dark alley, Merope had once called home. Emma, thought she had sensed someone else, but she couldn't be sure, and decided not to make it a point to find out. And with that, the limo door shut and the vehicle moved on.

Steping inside the limo, Merope's eyes widen.
Eyes and mouth watering, she grabs at the food, eating it as though it's about to disappear. Cosuming the whole lot, she rounds on the clothes. She strips, having no concept of modesty, and puts them on. Fingers closing around the soft clothes, she pulls them tight around her.
She looks at the woman, admiration in her eyes. She'd never experienced anything like this before.
When the limo began to move here eye's darted to he doors, but she restrained herself. She didn't trust this woman; not exactly. Still frightened of being hurt, she went with her because she seemed to care. Few times in her life had she ever seen someone care, at least about her.
"Hat rou hrant?" She clears her throat, and tries again. "Whrat rou whrant?"
It had been so long since she'd spoken, but it was coming back to her.