2018-11-19 - TIMELINE 1: Slipping Away
| Title: TIMELINE 1: Slipping Away | |
|---|---|
| Summary: Homura Akemi slips away from Sports Festival. | |
| Who: | |
| Where: Homura's apartment | |
| OOC - IC Date: 2018-02-19 - 2015-03-28 | |
<SoundTracker> The Frail (live) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oaNWKgs31lQ
Finally, her breath comes slow and steady; finally, her knees have converted back into knees from useless jelly. It has taken another whole event -- she missed the three-legged race completely for the sake of recovery -- but Homura Akemi can now get up and around under her own power. She's just trying out her legs like a newborn colt standing for the first time when Ijiri-sensei speaks up.
"Akemi-san, you look better. Why don't you rejoin your friends?"
It's a kindly urging. The teacher overseeing her recovery noticed how wistful the girl has looked, throughout this isolation period. She couldn't possibly understand how deep Homura's isolation goes.
Her... friends.
Homura wobbles where she stands. With one fist over her chest she cranes her neck, looks around. Peppered throughout the crowd she sees students whose names she has only just learned. She's had other first days at other schools, learned other fresh handfuls of names... Homura remembers them all, and is so very sure none of those first-day 'friends' remember her at all.
She keeps looking, shoulders drooping by the second. There's someone she hasn't spotted yet.
Will... will Madoka remember her, after she goes? Homura has not lasted a full school year outside of a hospital in a very long time.
If she does, how will she remember Homura?
As the transfer student she took to the nurse's station, the cringing tagalong... the girl who couldn't even last a full round of tug-of-war. The failed anchor. Madoka was so kind to Homura, and then...
Maybe it'd be better if Madoka doesn't remember Homura.
Just then the crowd parts between them and there she is: twintails afluff in the autumn breeze, bright pretty eyes on the strong blunette who'd hugged her earlier.
Homura Akemi huddles where she stands. Then she turns and makes her way through the crowd, an apology of a person cringing her way between clusters of laughing chatting students. She leaves with her dark head bowed and her violet eyes on the ground.
If she slips away quietly enough, maybe it can be like she was never there in the first place.
