NOTE: I do not own x-men or any of their characters. This plot is simply a fanfic and not for profit. Flames are futile. Any comments, questions, or concerns please leave a review in the box below. Constructive criticism will be welcome at any time.

That being said, Thank you and have a happy reading.

EDITED: April 2nd, 2016.

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"Pure silence is always the loudest noise"

I didn't know how I ended up this way.

But in my experience, I've learned to just roll with the punches and not question the strange surprises life pulls on us.

To sum it all up, I was a quiet kid who had a quiet life. I never really had quite fit in, I had broad shoulders for a girl, a flat nose, and long knotted, hair that often flopped in greasy ringlets in the humidity. In fact, before my 'death' the only thing I really considered beautiful about me was my big blue eyes that were dark azul orbs. I really liked the dark shade of blue, and it almost became a theme over my life.

I wasn't really interested in boy bands like other girls my age, or make up, music, boys, cute animals, Netflix, or even social media. I had pitiful knowledge about pop culture because it simply was not interesting to me, and that made it even more difficult for me to connect to kids my age. But to the few friends I did had, were often older, and I cherished them greatly.

For personal relationships-I was close to my parents, but distant from my siblings who had graduated high school and were out of the house before I was even out of elementary school. Other than that there was nothing really abnormal about me other than the fact I was very ambitious and highly introverted.

Instead of this, I fell in love with books. Books would come to take up every square inch of my room when I was a young girl, and later, every inch of my apartment. Big books, little books, old books with cracked bindings and yellow pages- new books with that parchment smell that only literature seems to carry. I read things like The Art of War, Moby Dick, The War of the Worlds, and the Count of Monte Cristo. I fell in love between the pages of the book and nothing could consume me quite like literature could.

I pursued other hobbies like swimming, Krav Maga, fencing, and scuba diving. Anything that that pricked my curiosity I chased after, I guess, looking back it was what a lot of young people did. We chase after things and keep them immortal in our memories. So, like a normal ambitious young woman, I went to good college to get a degree in biochemical engineering in college and graduated with a Bachelors degree.

But I never got to experience any more of what could have been my life after that.

I was coming home for Christmas when it happened. I was hit by a truck in an intersection (he had passed through a red light when it happened) and I was crushed flat on the asphalt.

I remember mostly the fear, the crushing fear I had as my rusty little car being flipped over and over to the pavement into an icy cold snow back off the road. I remember hazy pain, and then a darkness I welcomed like an old friend.

In the end I was just like a snowflake in the drift, one in a billion cast in a snow drift. I became a faded photograph like millions of others lost through history. And I was oddly okay at that.

We humans are often lost in the folds of history, so I like to think that our lives are not meant solely to impact the world around us, but rather what the world teaches us. The lessons we all hold in our souls are the ones we shall carry forever, for when we die we have no material to carry with us.

Much like a snowflake, I drifted. I let the wind carry me forth into the realm of death. I didn't miss food, because I did not need it. I didn't miss water or oxygen for I missed none. Overall I was satisfied, I had a lucky life. So I said goodbye to the life I lived and wished the best for the family I left behind.

My life from before does not really matter, not for this story. But neither I would I ever fully forget about the life from before either. My experiences from before shaped the decisions I would carry on in my next life. The best way to honor my old life, and the people I loved, was to promise never to forget, and to hold my precious people as close to my heart as I dared.

That's where my story really begins.

My name is Ruanna Blackthorne and I died in the snow.

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Then I was reborn in it.