[Of course it is; of course she can. Her mind was for the most part consumed by the horrific sight of Charlotte, by the puppeteered arrival and violent departure of Madoka, to quickly become fixated on the illusion's cruel (yet so very plausible) words- but some things stuck. She remembers those comments just as well as she does the blood and fear and cold despair.
Despite herself, Mami thinks about those things. And despite herself, the parallels between a girl like her and a woman like Fate emerge. Painful to accept; impossible to avoid.
They were both lost and alone and on the verge of perishing. And in turn they were each saved by someone possessing a far purer heart than their own- an nigh-endless capacity for kindness. Nanoha....Madoka. Yet this woman got to keep what Mami was allowed to hold for only a few minutes. Her happiness remained while Mami met death with a handful of hope. They weren't the same, and yet they were almost impossibly alike.
The strength seems to melt from her legs; Mami drops to her knees, surrounded by the untouched muskets. Some small, bitter, hidden part of her mind snarls out that it's not fair.
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Despite herself, Mami thinks about those things. And despite herself, the parallels between a girl like her and a woman like Fate emerge. Painful to accept; impossible to avoid.
They were both lost and alone and on the verge of perishing. And in turn they were each saved by someone possessing a far purer heart than their own- an nigh-endless capacity for kindness. Nanoha....Madoka. Yet this woman got to keep what Mami was allowed to hold for only a few minutes. Her happiness remained while Mami met death with a handful of hope. They weren't the same, and yet they were almost impossibly alike.
The strength seems to melt from her legs; Mami drops to her knees, surrounded by the untouched muskets. Some small, bitter, hidden part of her mind snarls out that it's not fair.
She begins to cry.]