( she stands up, not due to willpower or resolve but in reaction to the voice, something pushing her from behind into action; she overbalances, forgetting where she is, sure she's about to fall, but her feet remain underneath her even as her vision smears grey and her heart pounds; she sucks in a breath and turns in the direction of the

(threat) — no, it's homura's voice. something thrums in the back of her mind, warning of danger and darkness; does that make sense? it's just homura. hard to trust, prickly homura, yes; sayaka'd be lying if she said she liked her, but they're teammates. allies. (but. but.) (something moving in the back of her mind, seeping like the film on the metal beneath her feet.) she moves her hand as if to hold the railing and thinks better of it, hesitates, her hand extended, and curls her fingers into a fist. looking up at homura. (something seeping in the corner of her memory.) )

What are you talking about? ( harsh from surprise. hold on, she thinks, and frowns.

there's nothing here to hold on to. ) What are you doing here? We all split up… ( up top, she is going to say, but which direction was that again? homura was there, wasn't she? yes, they were all looking… all of them, right? overcome with a sudden doubt, she trails off, sets her jaw and straightens her back. ) We split up to look for the witch. ( with more conviction, conviction that is only bluster. )