2018-02-19 - No Open Flames, No Sparks
| Title: No Open Flames, No Sparks | |
|---|---|
| Summary: Homura Akemi takes a break from homework to answer some texted questions from her allies. | |
| Who: | |
| Where: Homura's apartment | |
| OOC - IC Date: 2018-02-19 - 2015-03-28 | |
A text notification chirps. Homura Akemi invests time and care in disengaging from the delicate work at hand. In a minute, the rectangle of a phone shadow slices through the harsh light cast by her desk lamp and across an uncapped metal tube.
Kyouko Sakura's contact name appears over a picture of Kozue with her eyes closed and her lip split.
Not your everyday message preview, this. It elicits a double blink of violet eyes in an otherwise impassive face.
With a snap of elastic Homura pulls off her gloves and taps her way into the waiting text. The questions within have... many answers. They gather character by character and word by word with quick gestures.
>That's Kozue Kaoru. She was a student at Ohtori until recently. Miki Kaoru is her brother._
All items of public record. Backlight paints pale fingers cold cyan as they hover over the screen.
>That's Kozue Kaoru. She was a student at Ohtori until recently. Miki Kaoru is her brother. She is Sayaka Miki's_
Freed by the tomb-quiet of an empty apartment, a ghost of squirming discomfort abashes her hand to stillness. She'd danced around the topic with Mami Tomoe as well. Once upon a forever ago, the cringing shyness in a frail sheltered geek with two dark braids would have drawn flush to cheek simply to overhear classmates giggle about schoolyard romances.
Homura is not that worthless girl any more. She refuses to be. Her mouth twists; her fingers move, squashing down on the glass like she's splatting a bug against it.
>That's Kozue Kaoru. She was a student at Ohtori until recently. Miki Kaoru is her brother. She is Sayaka Miki's girlfriend._
With a final tap and a digital blip, the text goes out to the Shepherds group chat. The gloves go back on next. Homura has homework to finish. Late into the night she assembles, worrying her way through as many permutations of current events as she can manage. Sleep doesn't come until IEDs and worries both pile up beyond easy counting.
The pipe bombs, at least, store away neatly in her shield.
