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Oh, The Horrors That Befall Them

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Madoka sees the apocalypse in four people.

Death is a laughing girl of fifteen; the oldest among them but still just a kid in the grand scheme of things. She’s the warning for the others—her fate unavoidable as she stares into the monster’s eyes.

She is the one who avoided her end for so long; selling her soul just to last a bit longer. The one who managed to outlast most but not all (not those that this story is about).

Famine is the white cape wrapped around the fallen. The one who gradually ceased to exist—her life being claimed by the terrible enemy known as herself.

She is the mistakes that this girl made as she created her own doom. The gentle acceptance that some people are born tragedies, and that she is one of them.

War is the unforgettable red—blood, spear, robes, fanged grin—worn by the soldier. It is the sins of the unholy; the apple of temptation; being able to smirk as she takes Faust’s deal.

She is the final push that it takes to welcome her self-destruction; tossing her life into the air, and finding peace when the shattered remnants rain down.

Conquest is the unrelenting steps of a lost traveler; repeating, repeating everything until she can’t tell the memories from the fantasy; the hope from the betrayal.

She is the broken clock; ticking away as she ruins everything that she tries to save. Conquest is the girl that is so selfish and selfless—and everything in between.