Homura is world weary. She is tired of life; the endless resetting of timelines in her past and the endless combat she engages in on behalf of the ship, against the Ohm. It's tiring. The girl she fights for appearing intermittently, like flashes of lightning or wisps of smoke, never helped her weariness.
There was very little besides fighting for such a very long time. Fighting witches on board the ship and fighting the Ohm off board; it was nonstop. Just as they return from a mission the color of her soul gem darkens and with the other girls she had to fight again. It's a fate of combat she was willing to take on for Madoka's sake, but she never expected it to drag like this. She had hoped for a resolution while she was still in her teens.
It came, but not how she expected. It came, but with time.
Waiting, and waiting, and waiting. Five years passes in the blink of an eye, and so it's been five years since she saw Madoka's face last. Homura has given up on ever seeing her again. All things came to an end eventually, and the same can be said of Homura's hope.
In these ten years, her personality has darkened in places and softened in others. Homura is coarse and sarcastic, far more blunt than she ever was as a girl. She allows very few people to see her inner, more gentle self and Mami remains the only one who knows what she's done for Madoka.
Recovery might have been possible had she been dumped somewhere with the girl she loved most, somewhere calm and peaceful, but in a place full of strife, of stress... It did nothing but make things worse for Homura.
But while Homura waits for the end, there are things that give her joy.
They are calm moments in the morning, in the city of Stacy's belly; they are times like now, spent with Mami in silence and warmth, their hands entwined and their bodies close. She cares about this woman, even if her love for Madoka is greater. Sitting up, she tucks her hair behind her own ears and smiles down at Mami. It's all one length now, and her hair dips just below her knees. She usually keeps it in a low ponytail, but it's loose right now.
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Homura is world weary. She is tired of life; the endless resetting of timelines in her past and the endless combat she engages in on behalf of the ship, against the Ohm. It's tiring. The girl she fights for appearing intermittently, like flashes of lightning or wisps of smoke, never helped her weariness.
There was very little besides fighting for such a very long time. Fighting witches on board the ship and fighting the Ohm off board; it was nonstop. Just as they return from a mission the color of her soul gem darkens and with the other girls she had to fight again. It's a fate of combat she was willing to take on for Madoka's sake, but she never expected it to drag like this. She had hoped for a resolution while she was still in her teens.
It came, but not how she expected. It came, but with time.
Waiting, and waiting, and waiting. Five years passes in the blink of an eye, and so it's been five years since she saw Madoka's face last. Homura has given up on ever seeing her again. All things came to an end eventually, and the same can be said of Homura's hope.
In these ten years, her personality has darkened in places and softened in others. Homura is coarse and sarcastic, far more blunt than she ever was as a girl. She allows very few people to see her inner, more gentle self and Mami remains the only one who knows what she's done for Madoka.
Recovery might have been possible had she been dumped somewhere with the girl she loved most, somewhere calm and peaceful, but in a place full of strife, of stress... It did nothing but make things worse for Homura.
But while Homura waits for the end, there are things that give her joy.
They are calm moments in the morning, in the city of Stacy's belly; they are times like now, spent with Mami in silence and warmth, their hands entwined and their bodies close. She cares about this woman, even if her love for Madoka is greater. Sitting up, she tucks her hair behind her own ears and smiles down at Mami. It's all one length now, and her hair dips just below her knees. She usually keeps it in a low ponytail, but it's loose right now.
"Wake up," she murmurs. "It's morning."