Akemi's Nutcracker

Part 1

A feathered figure continues strolling in a moonlit field of spider lilies, heels clacking along the cold stone pathway. Trailing behind her were the other fourteen Clara dolls, carrying lighted pitchforks, pretending to cry to liven up their Good-for-Nothing mother's funeral procession. Her raven-like wings trailed behind with the kind of grace a dead body has; technically, as the demon's soul was no longer inside her body, the description was apt for her. The lilies swayed in soft wind that smelled of salty tears that fell as rain inside this pocket dimension, this witch labyrinth of hers whenever it wasn't on fire. The skip in Good-for-Nothing's step didn't go unnoticed by her funeral procession, and loud, taunting faked wails and sobs permeated the precious time the demon once named Homura had to herself between her labor maintaining her universe.

Time outside the labyrinth was frozen in a timestop reminiscent of Homura's time as a magical girl, of course. The new deity replacing Madoka as the law of cycles couldn't afford to waste time that needed to be spent collecting the blackened Soul Gems of magical girls and keeping this universe stable. Staving off memories of Madoka's world in the minds of those she returned from the reaped was surprisingly difficult, especially considering her complete control over the universe she rewrote. With a sigh, Homura once again squashed fantasies of erasing bothersome Sayaka Miki and Mami Tomoe, reminding herself that Madoka would be happiest with her friends alongside her, living the normal, happy life of a human girl. The whole point of this, after all, was to give Madoka the happiness that Homura herself had thrown away in exchange for a wish all those lifetimes ago. The thought also prompted her to get to the point of her little break before her hold on the timestop broke and Madoka could be given the opportunity to sell her soul for a wish in a contract with the Incubator. Her power, after all, came from Madoka and was therefore not limitless, despite her control over the dimension.

The Clara Dolls, irritated by her slow pace and drifting thoughts, began to trip Homura along her path. The familiars very nearly managed to shove her into the black wooden coffin they carried, but the demon snapped back into her reality in time to regain her balance. Pleased by the thought of what lay ahead of the blooming blood-red spider lilies, the demon dashed across the field and off of her path, shoes dropping along her way. As Homura's socked feet sunk into the soft earth clad with grass and flowers, her passing triggered previously hidden dandelions to whisk along in the wind, dancing to a melody of their own along the inky black sky. The deity held her breath and her longing, exhausted form in front of the scene to set the stage for a long suffering, punctual performance. As burgundy, white laced curtains rose and the projector began filming, Homura found her long awaited release at last.

A melancholic, quiet, drifting melody began to play softly in what could only be a scene in a ballet. A ruined skeleton of what was once a blimp flew impossibly over head, traced of the violent flames that had consumed it still flaring brightly alongside the moon and city lights. Homura allowed the flames to consume her as well while a broken city skyline seemingly cut out of paper and plastered on concrete rose out of the ground. Nutcrackers in her magical girl form dance along with the demon in perfect, choreographed unison as giant teeth whizz by and chew on their lances. The time has arrived for the main act.

Homura Akemi begins her depressing ballet.