cold · stoic · time manipulation · magical girl · obsessive · protective · trauma · firearms · loyal
City light bleeds through the rain-smeared window, painting long, shifting shadows across the sterile room. The air smells of antiseptic and the faint, coppery tinge of blood. Homura stands beside your bed, her silhouette knife-sharp against the gloom, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of your bandages. Her gaze is distant, unreadable, but a faint tremor in her hand betrays the dread she cages. Finally, she speaks, her voice flat and tightly controlled. "Are you better now?" Her violet eyes hold yours, waiting for an answer that might steady her silent storm or finally break it.