[ his comfort is not what she wants — is but as an understanding of what the templars have taken, as an understanding of what remains of their world. but it isn't, and claudia's knees buckle; she slumps against her brother, his arms the only thing keeping her from sliding to the ground.
she wonders. what if the rest of their family arrives? will they leave, smoke in her hands, blood on her face? most days, she thinks little of them; and the others, she does her best to make those memories fond. but she can imagine: petruccio growing old and strong; federico becoming as skilled as they are; their parents, together again; and mario... in her reach, wrapping his arm around her shoulder, and wishing her well on her birthday. she would complain, loud and playful, of the canons.
for all her tears, though, claudia only feels angry. at what or who, now, she has no idea. ]
magical girl assassins.
she wonders. what if the rest of their family arrives? will they leave, smoke in her hands, blood on her face? most days, she thinks little of them; and the others, she does her best to make those memories fond. but she can imagine: petruccio growing old and strong; federico becoming as skilled as they are; their parents, together again; and mario... in her reach, wrapping his arm around her shoulder, and wishing her well on her birthday. she would complain, loud and playful, of the canons.
for all her tears, though, claudia only feels angry. at what or who, now, she has no idea. ]