{ stupid. }

        He is not one to be unaware of the way in which people change as the situation does itself, how masks crack and shatter and they’re suddenly trembling; it is the same for himself, and it is the same for her—voice sounds and it’s at the same pitch at his, low and unwavering, almost.  

        ' Ah…Seirin High, I—

                        —I’m entering my second year. ’

        Casual conversation is initiated within a candy-coated hell, hands trembling as they trace over the edge of the sword he was given, over and over and over again until he’s memorized every edge at the back of his hand; he’s trying to keep himself steady, he damned well is—breathing in and out, four to seven seconds ( that was what his mother had told him, anyways ) and he’s repeating it, over and over and over. 

        ’ Is, ah—is Mitakihara far from here? ‘

                                         They're nearly to the center; she can sense it, and such is                                          a comfort as much as it is frightening.  She has no knowledge                                          of this witch, but she shall defeat it, and they will escape.

     { they have to. }

                      "Ah -- not too far.  A few miles, I think."

                                 A pause as the pair reach a door of sorts; and she ought to                                  wonder why the mazes always so resemble reality, but she                                   does not { she is still far too naive }.  Oceanic optics return to                                  his form -- smile still intact despite the way her hands are                                   TREMBLING.

           "If you want, I'll buy you a snack when we get out, since I got you stuck in here."

       It's halfway a joke to get him to smile; but the offer        stands as she pushes open the door.

                     Within is little but empty blackness; a void, it seems,                       with little but what appears to be paint dripping from                      what she imagines are the walls.  And within the center                      is a painting of what Sayaka must assume is a girl,                       eyes closed and breathing gently, set against a multicolor                      background.  Perhaps this shall be simple --

                                                     "Shit!"

            For the creature's eyes shoot open and its body turns dark; black but for the             eyes.  And it lets out a shriek as Sayaka shouts at him, "Stay here!" and             summons as many swords as she can manage -- launching them at the beast             and then promptly charging.

         And he his caught off guard by the briskness of the girl’s words, taking a moment to digest the dark rings beneath her eyes, the way which she carried herself, and his heart ached for her, for this girl whom he did not know. There was something about her, though, something mystical, something almost otherworldly and he could not help the way the palms of his hands oh so lightly touched upon her shoulders, having reached out in an attempt to steady her, if at all necessary. Sympathetic heart beat for her, ingrained magnanimity unstoppable in any and all ways. Perhaps one day his ( BIG ) heart would be his d o w n f a l l——but not that day, he hoped.

                           "No, it’s fine! Are you okay?"

                             Such kindness she can see within his eyes overwhelms                              her -- for he knows not that he spares this kindness to a                              corpse of a girl, soulless, built for life and { REBUILT } for                              WAR.  The shock of it, the confusion and the self - loathing                               and the despair, causes her answer to delay just a while                              longer than it out -- and the smile she forces to her lips to                              lessen { just a bit } in impact.

            She is not quite a l l there; and can one fault her?  A fight with a              dear friend { how could i say those things to her? } and worse, too,             upon that train { hey.  what have i been fighting for? }; yesterday             had been a day one might charitably call hellish.  So when she runs             into the boy, dark-ringed eyes widening as something like a whimper             tumbles from pale and bitten lips, it takes the knight a moment to              return to reality.  As soon as she has, a hastily apology is offer.

        Sickeningly sweet concoctions of this and that mix and blend with his surroundings, vibrant colors distorted and swirled and there’s chimes in the air; he’s feeling and seeing a myriad of things all at once and it’s suffocating, making his head pound in perhaps the worst of ways. ( Blasphemy, he says; what is unfolding in front of him is impossible, it’s fiction—a daydream twisted and snapped, swirls of purples and yellows and reds being splattered with black, nightshade. )

        And he is offered something ( a weapon, it seems ) by his savior, gesture ripping him out from his state of shock and growing denial; dream or reality, he is unsure, but it was clear now that he had little to no say in the matter. So his hand extends in reach of what is given, arms pulled to the floor momentarily before he regains balance; heavy, yes, but manageable. ( Voice hushed, a whisper, almost; wavering and cracking and he’s unable to keep himself at level, this time—stay quiet, he says to himself, and he will be fine. ) 

       ' ——I understand. 

                           …Kuro—Kuroko Tetsuya. ‘

               Yes, just that -- he is far closer than either of them know.  For these barriers                truly are naught but daydreams; dim - witted fantasies of girls with little mind                left, turned to monsters through betrayal.  But she fails to realize such.  She                likely shall not until it is { TOO LATE. }

        His voice is cracking; her jaw clenches.  He must be afraid.  Of course; they         are trapped in this kind of a hell and he is armed with a sword he knows not         what to do with.  And she knows not how to comfort him; she has never been         good at that sort of thing.  Such is Madoka's skill, not her own.

                                       So she merely speaks, trying a smile.

                  "What school do you go to?  I go to Mitakihara, and, ano --                    I'm a second year there."

☪He grimaces some at  the smile. He knows the smile well enough by now. For he created that lying smile. The type of smile that if you didn’t it know well, you too could be fooled like a joker.

                        ❝We never got a chance to meet— I’m Fai.❞

               Her smile wavers only briefly as his own does the same;                but still she rebuilds it with impressive speed.  She has never                been an actress but she is quick; a good mimic.  Her sense                of responsibility and self-hatred allows no less.

                Being approached by well meaning souls is likely even                 more difficult than being approached with a palpable,                 finite threat. Still, she turned and offered a faint smile                 as a silent way of thanks.

                        "Oh, I’m fine, though could you tell                                 me where the closest market is?”

              That smile prompts one of her own; sincere despite its               recent unfamiliarity { her smiles have been sickening as               of late } and the blue-haired child nods once.  She notes,               of course, a very faint sense of hesitation but does not               respond to it except to soften her own smile { a comfort }.

        Surprise is deemed fit when there’s a sudden weight pulling and pulling; it happens to quick for him to heed the warning, unfortunately, and he finds himself struggling to put the pieces together, register what had taken place within the past minute. ( And his savior is someone who he does not know, dressed in the shade of the ocean and knowing of what has appeared before them; it is truly strange, this occurrence, but he is somehow unable to deny the possibility of these events being nothing but reality. ) 

        ' I—————  

                           ——I am alright. ‘

          Shit, shit, shit ... sleeping or not, there's still a living human trapped here with           her now; he's in d a n g e r and she can barely protect herself.  At least he's okay.

                                   The knight forces an appearance of calm as she turns to                                    face the other, though eyes still dart.  A sword appears within                                    her palm, though this moment the pair have no attackers.

  "I know this is confusing, but I can't explain too much    right now.  Just stay close to me -- I'll protect you."

          { i'll try, at least. }

░▒▓█ ♣ █▓▒░

     Green eyes viewed the other Magi, she was sure they were thinking the same thing. ‘Another Puella Magi in Mitakihara?’, but it seems that no matter what there would always be tons of magical girls in this city. The soul gem in the center of her cloak glowed several times, telling the both of them that they had better get to that labyrinth. “Let’s go!”

            "Right!"

                    Despite { or perhaps in spite of } her stubborn streak, she girl                     follows behind the other -- she truly could use an ally { or just                     a friend; why had she frightened madoka away?  stupid, stupid! }                     and there was no reason to risk losing one already.

          "Oh -- sorry.  Are you okay?"