Prologue:

I silently slid down in my seat wishing to be anywhere but here in this exact spot. I slowly slid my notes over my composition book and gulped, looking up at the all too smart teacher before numbly looking down again. She knew I didn't have the answer and that I was too busy writing to actually be paying attention to her mono-tone question. Technically, it wasn't my fault. If she wasn't so boring then maybe I'd actually want to pay attention in class, right?

I took a deep breath and looked back up at her guiltily. "Um, can you repeat the question Mrs.?" I asked half heartedly, waiting for the harsh punishment she was about to serve.

"See me after class, Miss Marx." Beady eyed old Mrs. Hawk scowled, glaring at me through her spectacles. I nodded and quickly looked back down at my notes, consisting of half a page of notes and little drawings filled the rest. I couldn't help it; no matter how hard I tried I just couldn't stop drawing. Tons of notebooks filled with drawings and doodles where aimlessly scattered around my bedroom, always cluttering the neat little space. Even the pure white walls of my room where used as a canvas whenever I ran out of paper or didn't feel the need to draw in a note book.

As much as I loved it, my "uncle" despised it. About four months ago both my parents died, trying to save me from someone though they never actually told me who it was. Now all I have left from them is the necklace that they gave to me when I was a baby, that still refused to come off, and a special note pad and pencil I kept secretly hidden in a little knapsack under my bed. Just in case I ever felt like running away from Uncle.

Uncle, the man who stood up and took me in as soon as my parents where pronounced dead, was a douche. Well not really but I hated him. He always seemed to know more about me then I even knew myself and he just gave me the creeps. Honestly, I'm about 99.9% sure that he has something to do with the death of my parents; hence, I'm not exactly fond of the man.

I jumped, startled, as the bell chimed through the intercom, signaling that school was over and we could all head home. Well everyone except me, that is.

I sighed and slowly started to pack my stuff up into the medium sized black backpack I usually carried while I waited for everyone to pass so Mrs. Hawk could yell at me. Mrs. Hawk stayed quietly by her desk, completely unusual for her, while she too waited for the classroom to clear out.

"Miss Marx, will you please explain to me why you feel the need to draw while I'm trying to teach, even though you know that everything that comes out of my mouth will most likely be on the next test?" I winced and glanced up at Mrs. Hawk. "I'm sorry ma'm." I squeaked looking down and away from her. "If I ever see you drawing in my class again, Miss. Marx, I will take away your notebook and you will not get it back. Do you understand?" She leaned in a little closer, trying to make her self even more scary then she actually was. I nodded quickly and bit my lip nervously.

Mrs. Hawk sighed and straightened back. "Emma, I understand that you are under a lot of stress being that your parents where just killed and you have to get used to living alone with your uncle. I want you to understand that I am here for you and I really do want to help. But I still can't tolerate drawing in my class, if I let one student do it the rest will just have to do it. Before you're dismissed, Emerald, one more thing," Old Mrs. Hawk smiled a rare small smile and moved out of the way so I'd be able to get up, "Remember, you are the creator of your world and what you say goes. Don't listen to others and be wary of 'Greeks baring gifts'. Thing's aren't always what they seem."

Little did I know, the old crazy hag was right.

Character Info:

Emerald Marx-

Long waist length brown hair, big emerald green eyes, short- 5'4(taller than Sakura), skinny.

Usually wears black long-sleeved shirt that cuts off an inch below chest, black shorts, brown cape like thing with matching brown gloves and boots and belt.

Powers: Will be explained in the story. People know her as the artist.