Throughout my childhood I was standoffish due to the cruelty of other children. I was, to put it simply, different. Other girls wore bright pink colours, had small purses loaded with play cosmetics, pony toys and change for soda machines. I wore darker colours and had a canvas messenger bag loaded with books. They played tag, I sat by myself reading. It's not that I ever felt lonely because of the other children had shunned me. In fact, I preferred to be left alone to my reading, but someone always got in the way.
A group of them thought they would make a good time of snatching away my book one afternoon during recess. They were all faster, stronger, while I was the pale, lanky girl, and naturally I never stood a chance. The children tossed my book back and forth amongst each other, but when one large boy ripped a page out, a new kind of rage awakened inside me. Before I knew what had happened, the book was in my hand and the boy was a good ten feet away on his back, crying.
After that incident I had to change schools, and save for the occasional sneer and comment, I was left alone. Until my seventh year of school when everyone is developing and hormones are every where. Teenagers going through their goth and rebellious phase tried to befriend me, but I couldn't quite connect them on a level deeper than acquaintance. They were a small group amongst a much larger one though.
I was a highly intellectual student with fantastic grades, taking more advanced courses than the others in my year, and in my spare time I did research. My research gained the most ridicule, because I researched the occult and paranormal. When that was discovered the ridicule became worse and rumors flew around that I sacrificed babies satan and what not.
I did my best to shrug it off for as long as I could, but even on the most emotionless person it will add up over time. People drew pentagrams and upside down crosses on my locker, called me a "devil worshiping slut" and more rumors flew. Apparently I had been trying to have sex with demons and claimed I did so every night. I don't recall actually saying that and I was very much a virgin with no interest in boys at the time.
Teachers pulled me off to the side to talking me about my ways, and offered me to go to their church. My parents were talked to about the whole situation, and being the Wiccans they were, they reminded the faculty of the no religion policy in schools.
Then there was they day I was pushed too far. It began with a literal push right into my locker stained with word "slut" in red permanent marker. My leather satchel (I upgraded) was taken from me while I was covering my busted lip and books were dumped out. When I turned to face the person who had done this, I found him holding my leather bound journal filled with research notes. Like any other person would, I pulled myself to my feet, told him to stop and give me back my journal. He flipped through the pages and tossed it in my face. Pain shot through my already throbbing and swollen lip. More teenagers surrounded me, grabbing for my books, shouting insults, and shoving. Then I screamed for them all to stop. Suddenly, everyone around me began to panic and heat washed over my body. In the chaos, one scream made me sick to my stomach, and through tear blurred eyes I saw the boy who had grabbed my journal was on fire.
I was stunned with no will to run away from the havoc I had caused. The last thing I remembered of that day after I sank to the floor weeping were arms embracing me and carrying me away.
After a day of recovery, things were explained and arrangements were hastily made for me to join a mage academy in the magic realm. I was given time with my parents to say good-bye before I was whisked away to study, live, and train with other people like me. My parents were hesitant at first, but after the death of one boy and the school burning down, it was obvious I could not stay amongst normal people. That, and everyone thought Elayna Hoster died in the fire. I heard they even made a nice memorial to me saying something like "burn in hell". Quaint.
When the time came to leave I stepped into a portal and became Alexandra Summers.
To say the least, it was refreshing to find out that the research I was doing into magic had proved to be true. My physical and mental capabilities were challenged each day and I found myself submerged in a world rich with knowledge. Save for missing my parents, I became quite happy.
During my training I blossomed and developed from the lanky pale girl. While still pale, and jet hair making it look worse, I took on a womanly form. I earned a few glances, a couple of advances, but I never really acted on any.
It was my research that took hold of me. I'd moved on from reading into magical theories to magical legends and ancient powers. The legends that captivated me the most were of a man named Garrett. I became something of a fan girl for the man, slightly obsessive with a superhero crush on him. However, he had been dead for many, many, many years. So they say, but that wasn't too far off from the truth.
After mastering my chosen three schools of magic I took to joining a type of magical task force that took part in infiltration, captures, righting wrongs, keeping magic quiet, and the like. That's when things took a turn.
Subject: Alexandra Summers 
Sat Jun 18, 2011 9:47 pm