( open post: MIKI SAYAKA )

[holger]

MIKI SAYAKA ✦✦✦✧✧✧✧

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[ex_plus110]

[holger]

( the stairs go down, not up, like drill-bits driving into the earth, a series of dark holes scattered haphazardly in the empty room of the labyrinth; deep and dark and exuding their own pressing force. with more passages than there are people, they split up. sayaka goes down the first, the closest, lead by example (not that she's — ahaha! no, obviously!).

takes the first few turns at a run, trying to balance speed and balance, then slows, looking down into the blackness and up into the whiteness, shifting her head, closing one eye and then another — above her is pure white, below her is pure black, and try as she might she can't spot the horizon; she shakes her head and decides it's an optical illusion; takes the next few turns (when will this end?) at a run and — it reverses, and now she's heading up, up into the black, but when did it switch around? did it switch? she turns on her step (static, lightheadedness, her vision darkening in the corners; then clearing, her ears ringing) and gives a startled cry, despite herself, when she touches the railing and sticks to it, the ice of the metal reaching through her glove, the white cloth turning grey and brown from rot.

she yanks her hand away with a startled — it gives easily — and the excessive force sends her stumbling backwards, tripping and almost tumbling down; she lands hard on her bottom (it sticks, she sticks, like everything has been coated in something sticky and spilt, something filmy like hairspray and dark like mould) and finds herself breathing hard, calm down, sayaka, jeez, it's nothing, be better than this, you have to be; everything is white now, and she doesn't know which way she's come or gone. the stairs she's sitting on are the same as the stairs below her and the stairs she just came down; the bottoms of the stairs she sees above her look just like the tops; she has the sudden, certain idea that she fell to the ceiling, that if she lets go she'll fly up and up and up and up, to the floor.

stand up, she tells herself. (but she'll fall/fly.) ) Stand up! ( she orders herself, this time aloud, the word echoing thinly in the endless white space — twisting and bouncing off of nothing until it comes back. maybe it's her mind twisting on itself, maybe there is another sound, but she does stand, her cape soiled from contact, twisting around to the stairs behind (above) her. ) Who's there?

[ex_plus110]

( the labyrinth of invisibility and insanity capture those who have a history of self-martyrdom. this particular one was not set to capture sayaka personally, but that it happened to, was a treat for the demon. corridors and stairs that twist and turn, cycling into each other were the deal. anyone who got trapped would stay trapped unless homura personally choose to liberate them. would she liberate the magical girl from this torture? not yet, not until she's had her twisted fun.

as the sound of crashing fills the void, homura finds herself melting into the stairs, following after the girl. she is everywhere, filling the space of the void, and the void filling the space within her. her purple eyes glare, almost piercingly into the blue-haired girl, and they observe everything. her eyes, the way her hair bounces in the air, and the way she falls on her behind. she can't say she's too obsessed with her, but they share something deep-

they were both witches.

when sayaka screams at herself to stand up, homura transmutates into a physical matter. she's still hidden, cut up along the dotted lines, turned inside out. on the edge of the labyrinth, she takes a step, finally revealing herself to the other. she is [thankfully] alone. )

It's you walking home all alone. The sounds of your feet pitter-patting against the cement floor. Echo across echo, all alone.

( when a glimmer of light beckoned across homura's face, she tilted her head back and gave a somber glance. this girl, did she retain her memories as a witch? homura didn't feel like prying into her just yet. )

You're still the same, getting sucked into things you don't belong in.

[holger]

( 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. )