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Gestalt
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[X] Sarah.
<<Sarah.>>
The psychic message over the network is blunt, monotone, and
heavy with a novel's worth of implications, hidden messages, emotion and
menace. It speaks of suffering. Of exhaustion. Of deep, complicated relationships. It is a masterpiece of reading between the lines and communication.
Sarah gleefully ignores all of it.
<<Hi Rachel,>> she cheekily voices back, <<So, Taylor? Has she?>>
Taylor glances over towards you. <<Um... No?>> she tells her, <<But... uh...>>
She glances towards you again, and tries to reassure you, "I mean, it's fine if you don't want to," she tells you, although it doesn't take a Thinker to figure out that she's
curious.
You eat through the last of your sandwitch, and, closing your eyes, tilt your head back, facing the sky. You stay like that for a few minutes.
Give me strength.
You inhale, and give a tremendous
sigh, eyes opening to stare dully at the horizon. "Fine," you say, standing up and dusting off your hands, "You're gonna see it at
some point, so might as well get things over with."
You hold out your right hand, palm facing up, and allow your Gem to manifest on top of it. It's easier to transform that way --being able to see the Gem makes focusing on it more natural. And yeah, you've done this enough times to transform without this crutch, but... well. Nerves.
You focus on the gem in your hand, feeling the well of magic contained within your crystaline self. According to Kyuubey, every Magical Girl has a different mental process for transformation. For some, it's like a switch. For others, it's a pull, or a push. In your case, it's like opening a door.
Your vision goes white. Your gem seems to burst into a web of steel, and grey-blue patterns begin to form around your body, splitting and joining and splitting again to form more complex shapes. They pull close to you to your body, and then flare out, dissolving and reforming to form your outftit just in time for your vision to return.
Your boots crunch into the snow when you hit the ground, and the floor seems to tremble from the impact. The drop was only a bout a foot high, and you barely even have to flex your knees to take it. There's a comforting
weight to your outfit. As if it were far more heavy and protective than cloth and leather ought to be. To say nothing about the
strength now coursing through your body, flowing through your veins, through bone, muscle and sinew. The strength of a
Puella Magi.
The rush is, sadly,
more than a little spoiled by the nature of your costume. Brushing away some snow, you pause to tuck the diamond-shaped gem hanging from your neck down your blouse, and examine yourself; the changes you've made so far seem to have stuck, although you
still aren't happy with the way your costume looks; even bereft of simbols, your outfit has an authoritarian, sinister air to it, and the
inspiration is still blatantly obvious.
Taylor lowers her right arm --she'd raised it to protect her eyes from the glare of your magic doing its thing, and just
stares at you.
"Thats..." She's
just shy of gawking. "Um. Er."
You
sigh. "I know."
"It's... er..." She makes a vague gesture towards you. "It's... distinctive?"
"It's a few swastikas away from being something I stole from Kaiser's wardrobe," you deadpan. "I
know."
"... Honestly, it's... er..." She's trying. Bless her cotton socks, she's trying. "It looks more... 'generic bad guy' than... uh.
That."
"Taylor." You rub your face with gloved hands. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, but
I know what my costume looks like."
"... Have you tried changing it?" she squeaks.
"Practically since I've contracted. It used to be
worse."
An awkward silence smothers the air around you two.
"... Why is it... um..."
You
sigh.
"My brother is basically Empire, and I was naive, impressionable, and
a horrible abusive person who worshipped the ground he walked on when I made my wish," you tell her, "Could we move on?
Please?"
<<Show her the gun!>>
"The
what."
Sarah should thank every god mankind has ever worshipped that there's most of a building between you and her. Your left hand is covering most of your face, and your right reaches forward,
grasping.
Your weapon forms itself in a flash of magic and steel. It's a dull black instrument of industrially-produced death, sparcely decorated with silvery, angular flairs, and as long as you're tall. The grip sits easily in your hand, perfectly moulded to it, and a long belt of ammunition --grey links, brass casings and glowing grey-blue bullets-- dangles from the side.
"This," You tell her. Taylor stares at it.
"... That's a machinegun," She states, flatly. "You know, when you told me you were a Magical Girl, I thought you'd be using... I don't know, a wand?"
"Some girls do," you tell her, resting the barrel on your shoulder, "But every Magical Girl I know of gets
some sorta weapon with their wish. Sarah's got a sword and shield, Andrea has this glaive that shoots lightning, and Anna has flying knives. A
lot of flying knives." You heft your weapon. "And I get
this thing."
"...
Huh." She frowns. "That sounds more than a little overpowered."
"You'd think so," you say, "And yeah, this thing can pretty much cut apart anything it hits through sheer firepower, but it's also
huge, I can only handle one or two of them at a time, and shooting it can eat through my magic
really quickly if I'm not careful."
"Also, the noise is awesome in a terrifying sort of way."
Taylor and you swirl around, startled, you being a little faster to do so.
Sarah's standing right by the entrance to the roof, arms crossed and casually leaning against the closed door. She gives both of you a cheeky wave and, pushing off, walks towards you. There's a flash of magic mid-step, and suddenly, she's in costume.
Unlike your own getup, Sarah's is more fantastical. Armoured boots and greaves. A pleated skirt, reinforced by dangling strips of chainmail and secured by a wide belt with a sword sheath that sits at an angle. On her chest, a green undershirt that's unbuttoned at the bottom to expose a peek of her midriff through the layer of silver chainmail she wears over it, and over that a chestpiece, etched with swirling green and golden patterns, that looks more decorative than protective.
Which makes sense, as her
actual protection comes from the massive tower shield she's holding in her right arm; a curved, inch-thick plate of solid steel that goes from the ground to above her head and is wide enough to completely cover three people, if not more. The face of it is decorated by a fancy painted star-in-a-pentagram in gold over green; a symbol which is repeated on the brooch securing her forest green cape around her shoulders, and on the gem inset in the circlet around her head.
Also, her dark brown hair is now a vivid
green.
Taylor's
staring at the transformed Sarah, who just smiles jovially at her. She makes her cape flutter, and then casually leans against her shield. "'Sup~," she greets.
You're less than impressed. "Did you ask me to transform just so you could come here and
show off?" you ask her.
She waggles the index finger of her free hand at you. "Ah,
normally you'd be correct to think that, but I'm in
Puella Magi Sarah Magica mode for more important reasons, if you can believe that!"
"
Really."
Sarah nods sagely. "Yes, really," she tells you, "It goes like this: I know we both agreed to leave, as you call it, 'Magical Girl Shit' out of school grounds during school hours --which is a perfectly reasonable thing to do--,
but, since we're gonna be meeting a lot more often, I was wondering..."
She pauses for a moment. "Oh, right. You have a street fight after school. Can't forget that." Sarah hums to herself, gauntleted fingers drumming on her shield. "Well,
slight change of plans, then. What do you feel about hunting together tonight, Rachel?"
You feel like you'd very much like a
Puella Magi of Sarah's powerset on your side. Unfortunately, the only girl you know of that would qualify is
Sarah. Still, you recognize an olive branch when you see one.
It could be a scheme, though. God knows for
what, but you have a feeling that Sarah's got something up her metaphorical sleeve-
"Oh!" she adds, eyes brightening, "Also, Taylor, you can come along if you're not too busy with stuff!"
What.
"...
me?" Taylor asks. "I... uh..." She glances between Sarah and yourself, "Why are you asking
me to go with you? I'm not..."
Sarah
smiles, and then it hits you. Something which you'd been deliberately ignoring all this time. Because there's
one, and
only one reason Kyuubey would add someone to the psychic network:
Potential.
You know this. Sarah knows this. The only one who doesn't is Taylor. Maybe she
suspects that there must be
some reason for Kyuubey to suddenly bring her into your world. In fact, you'd be surprised if she didn't.
Why hasn't she asked, though?
In fact, why hasn't
Kyuubey made her any sort of offer, or even
hint at it? Why did it just leave Sarah and you free reign to expose Taylor to the world of Magical Girls?
She has to hear it from you.
You're...
[-] ... saddened. You were kinda looking forward to the idea of having someone you could talk to, without having to worry about watching your back.
[-] ... apprehensive. Taylor making a Contract is bound to make thing a lot more complicated for you. And possibly for everyone else.
[-] ... concerned. Taylor is not ready to be a Magical Girl. She's a layer cake of issues and trauma, and that'll kill a Puella Magi as surely as a bullet to the Soul Gem.
With things cleared up, there's one pressing matter to tend to:
[-] Refuse. You have to polish your Soul Gem or something.
[-] Accept, but refuse to bring Taylor with you. No way, no how.
[-] Accept, ask Taylor.
-[-] Encourage her to come.
--[-] Maybe seeing what being a Puella Magi is like would be enough to make her think things over, Contract-wise?
-[-] Discourage her. This is Dangerous.
