62 - Layout

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"I fought... Two Remnants. One was wielding {Anxiety}, and another was the black death embodiment of fog." (Lastia)

"That's... That certainly is a crazy title." (Arin)

"Well, the fact that you're here is enough reassurance that you survived. So, how did it go? Did you defeat them?" (Sariel)

"Defeat... Is too strong a word. For the Remnant with {Anxiety}, a local magical girl who was on par with it helped to chase it away.

For the fog, I absorbed all of the fog and turned it into my magic, then I fired it all back at its true form. In exchange, someone helped me shatter that last bit of resistance, and the attack went through. After the attack, the helper and the fog disappeared. " (Lastia)

"... With how strange things could get, it wouldn't surprise me if both of them survived. But it must seem highly unlikely if it got you upset. " (Sariel)

" Yeah... " (Lastia)

" It's getting late, Let's get to Tia's house and rest up. " (Arin)

It didn't take long to part from the train station and reach her home.

"... I wonder, I've been to so many places. But this street in particular manages to calm me down the most. " (Lastia)

" It might be your muscle memory. You likely walked upon this path in this exact manner so many times that you subconsciously repeat it. " (Sariel)

" Maybe it's something even your curse cannot take away, the power of love perhaps? Fufu..." (Arin)

" Knowing the magic I've come across so far... It must be weirder than that. Love would be too mundane to explain it.

In the first place I'm a magical girl, I'm suppose to be a lot more resistant to such magical interference in my life, right?

A curse that persists on a magical girl... Is unheard of. " (Lastia)

Otherwise, it would be far easier for strangers to deduce her circumstances. The fact that nobody was familiar enough to even make a guess as to what's going on, and chalking it up to this being the norm, was enough for her to conclude that her own situation was highly peculiar. Too peculiar, to the point that it's unheard of. Perhaps it was difficult to judge, considering Lastia was hiding it well to protect herself.

Revealing the curse would pose a danger to herself if information were to leak, she wouldn't put it pass people if there were malicious magical girls out there. This lead to an impasse, to have an easier time gathering information it was vital to let others know so that they could help out in getting clues, on the other hand this might leak her weakness to those with unsavoury intent. It was a trade, so to say.

A tranquil silence fills the void, leaving naught but the rustling of leaves in the nearby urban gardens. Their footsteps were soft, dainty, tapping over well polished roads of civilisation, reducing sound to a minimum. Tap, tap, the scenery flows by, a myriad of similar colours paint the desolate view in front of her. The streets were mostly empty, they portray a tale of constant passage, the vestiges of life lay about everywhere. It was a scene different from what played through the glass layers of the high speed train.

Every pore, every mite and detail was caught by her eye, her photographic memory lay between the fine line of a curse and a blessing. Information that she didn't want might persist, at the same time she could holistically capture the beauty of life in ways others could never. Stopping by the side of a home unit, a plague at the front read out some numbers. #463728.

It matched the details residing in the scraps of paper she carried. Her hand gently and slowly pushed at the gate, it was never locked. She didn't have the key, and it seemed her friends didn't either as they let her walk in the front. She stepped past the pavement surrounded by greenery, a short but sweet trip of 3 metres, her hand slipped over the door knob and the door slid open. With a dull creak, the door's hinges groaned.

Lastia took her shoes off as she stepped in, there was no sign that told her to do so, but seeing the shoe rack next to the entrance made it feel second nature to her. The other 2 followed without question, it must have been the norm at least when visiting her home. Right, this was Lastia's home... A faint layer of dust had gathered over certain corners of the room, a single day wasn't enough to gather that much.

According to what she knew, Lastia had only left her home for a day. It meant that her own living room wasn't used much even when she was at home. She led the two to a couch in the living room, since it was the first room they stepped into. Even if she wanted to, she couldn't chase them out without making them leave the entire house. The layout of the house was unfamiliar, the only thing she could rely on was a sensation of familiarity in her bones. A routine carved into her body so thoroughly that memory erasure cannot affect her, her neurons had memorised it with involuntary movement.

She stepped in the direction pointed by her body and entered a room further in, behind the living room was a hallway and she had made it to the end, before wandering into her own room. An open diary on a desk with a mirror, it was on the wall adjacent to the door which was placed at the corner of the room. On the other adjacent wall was her closet.

Her bed layed in the centre, head pushed against the wall. On the opposite side of the door was a window leading to a street on the other side of the house's entrance. The curtains were diligently blocking it, but the nearly opague curtains still let in a little golden light from the setting sun, painting a field of sunflowers onto the curtain sheets.

There were ceiling lights all over the home, though they were likely seldom used. It saved more money to solely rely on natural light. Did the other Lastias feel the same? She had guest over, perhaps it would be best to hold back on the thrifting. She didn't know where her money came from, it wouldn't be wise to overtly indulge in it. Simple is best.