( @madokami )
Bubblegum tresses promptly allay burdensome exhaustion as superficially identical corners of nude lips leisurely contort in order to enable the uninterrupted formation of a discernible SMILE to transpire upon a feminine countenance. Unrestrained ebullience magnificently illuminates aquatic optics, and a nimble appendage squanders little to no time at all in gently prodding the undeniably FAMILIAR figure. Given the circumstances, perhaps such a carefree approach is to be considered inappropriate. Perhaps this shameless demonstration of mirth is to even be perceived as peculiar. However, she presently knows not the BEST way to go about accomplishing her current goal and this opportunity that has so unexpectedly arisen may very well escape should too much time be spent on identifying the correct answer to her unvoiced query.
❝ You weren’t thinking of having adventures here WITHOUT me, were you? ❞
She can’t believe it at first - her mind feels like it’s stuttering, unable to process it, the needle skipping on the grooves. When she turns around to face the person who tapped her the entire process it feels like the whole thing’s happening in slow motion, before she’s even caught sight of that all-too-familiar shade of blue.
The sheer elation that fills Madoka comes bearing a wave of guilt along with it. She’d been informed, naturally, that it was her entire world that had met its end, not just her alone - yet kindled within her there had been a small, incongruous hope that maybe everyone else she knew had somehow escaped the hand she’d been dealt. It made no sense, of course, unless the entire premise of her appearance in this world was a lie, but however impossible she yearned to believe that her loved ones had not died along with her.
But along with this fruitless yearning had come a loneliness, one she tried to push down, one she thought of as selfish - for what greater selfishness was there than wishing the people you loved were dead too? - but one that she could never quite shake off. This guilt-laden feeling is what emerges as Madoka rushes forward, finally summoning the power to bring herself to move, and throws her arms around Sayaka’s neck.
“Sayaka-chan,” she says, the word coming out in a breathless laugh, the edges of it brimming with emotion. “I thought - I thought I’d never -”
She pulls back, wiping her eyes, and she can almost hear her friend’s lighthearted beration of her crybaby nature before it’s even spoken. She never thought she’d anticipate it this much. Madoka can taste a thousand possible questions upon her tongue, but for now, just one will do - “When did you get here?”
