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The Kingdom is in ruins.
It took an annoying amount of 10 years to do it, give or take. Hardly worth the effort if you ask her, what with these humans being so terribly distrusting. If anything, she's hungrier than when she first began this endeavor.
Just let her in! "Oh, she's a demon, look at those horns! She doesn't know how to 'emotion'! We can't trust her! She'll eat us!"
She sighs as she steps on some broken stain glass that litters the castle hall. She's not made for "socializing", whatever that means. Constantly having to talk and talk and talk was exhausting. She doesn't even do a good job half the time. Why does she even do it? Just shoot them, kill them, make them a meal and be done with it. Go hibernate.
But, no, magic is now used by everyone so good luck running into someone who can't defend themselves. Not to mention the humans even broke down Qual's ultimate killing magic in just 80 years! The audacity. She scowls. Flamme, the Legendary Mage. Legendary pain in every demon's ass, more like.
What's a weak little demon like her to do in this equation?! Talk. Talk. Talk. Talk until her tongue bleeds.
She disdainfully eyes a corpse on the floor, some guard she thinks, and steps past the giant arch that leads into the throne room. So boringly grandiose, for a couple of royalty that killed themselves when everything began falling apart.
She just wants to see it, the patheticness of it all, before she finally leaves this dump. Truly, this experience has taught her one thing: Villages were the way to go, she was right all along. Why had she listened to that red haired idiot?
The other demon just standing there wasn't part of her little journey.
She blinks.
Pink hair braided in one thick braid sways with the movement of its owner as they turn around at her entrance.
Pink.
So much pink.
Pink hair, pink eyes, pink lips pulled into a facsimile of a smile, pink tipped horns that curve up and then backwards unlike hers which just go up straight (and perfect.)
Pink.
"Hello?" she says, making sure to up the pitch at the ending of that word the way she hears when a human is confused. Because she is, in fact, very confused.
And a little (very) threatened, to be fair. This demon's mana dwarfs hers by a terrifying margin. Which is to say, it fills the entire goddamn throne room. How hadn't she noticed it? That presents an uncomfortable truth about mana control that she does not want to think about. Her mana control is good too, damn it!
Please don't be a cannibal. Please.
"Hi!" the other demon beams. And waves.
...Actually, she changed her mind, be a cannibal. She'd take that over this, very obvious, "social butterfly." Was she here to gloat? That she could have brought this place down in 5 years instead? Maybe even less?
Her face contorts into displeasure before smoothing out into familiar blankness. As much as she dislikes these kinds of demons, she can't in good conscience antagonize her.
"You were quite impressive." The other demon's words spear through her grumbling in an instant and leave her gaping. A compliment? From her ilk? "I never would have thought to incite the guards themselves against the crown and the common people all at once! You really played their egos like a fiddle."
Like a fiddle? "Wha—?"
The other tilts her head in a disturbingly similar manner to humans. She's good, she's way too good. But maybe she's perfectly good enough? There's a little nugget of an idea at the back of her head already, and she can't quite shake it off. She likes to be alone, but 'alone' makes hunting quite difficult now-a-days...
"Oh! You don't know what that means," the other giggles, light and airy and pretty. "It's a saying blossoming in the capitals recently. It means you can manipulate people as easily as a skilled musician plays their fiddle."
She notes that saying for later and nods. "Thank you for the compliment."
"You're welcome!"
It sounds so painfully rehearsed even to their ears, but they smile and play along regardless.
She finally gets her legs to move, and goes to stand next to the other where they turn in unison to look at the two dead royals on their thrones.
"What a sad sight," the other exhales, what humans call a 'sigh'.
"Do you mean that in the 'pathetic' sense or the actual 'upset' sense?" Homura asks.
The other looks at her shrugs. "I don't know."
She shrugs as well, and they turn back to staring at the dead royals.
"Did you come here just to compliment me, or?"
"Actually, I've been stalking you for a while," ("What?") "and I thought now was a good time to ask if you would like to join me in a mutually beneficial relationship? You're a very good tactician."
She makes a sound at the back of her throat, it's a sound they make when they're thinking but have nothing to say yet, and reaches out to pluck one of the fancy rings off one of the royals. She has seen people kiss them so many times, falling to their knees in worship.
What did they mean? Maybe it's something to experiment with, now that she has a fellow demon to work with?
The same way she has seen the man do, she turns on her heels and drops to one knee and takes the other demon's hand in her own.
Sharp teeth twist into a 'delighted' grin. "You have to ask that question first."
"I know that," she grumbles. "I need your name."
"Madoka. What's yours?"
"Homura. Well then, Madoka," Homura looks her in the eye. "Will you do the honor of taking my hand in 'marriage'?"
Madoka beams, and she can apparently call up tears on command. "Yes, yes I would!"
The ring slides on the middle finger, that's where all the important kissed rings are after all, and Homura brings her lips down onto it as replicated.
"Let's have fun, Homura-chan?"
"Of course."
—
A month later on their silly little adventure
—
"I have the perfect pair picked out for us," Madoka announces and flops atop of Homura who takes it with a grumble but nothing beyond that.
They've been camping out beyond the bounds of a small village for a couple of days now, just taking in the intricacies of the town and its inhabitants. Admittedly Madoka was far and above more sensitive to the relations between humans than Homura was but that is also where their new partnership gets to shine best.
Humans are surprisingly more tolerant of a group of "amicable" demons than they are towards a lone demon. It didn't make a lick of sense to Homura but it is what it is. Something about social creatures and emulation, as Madoka had ranted one night. Homura is half convinced Madoka doesn't know what she's talking about either.
"Don't keep me in suspense," Homura droned out and wrapped her arms around the shorter demon as has become routine for them.
There is logic to their positioning. Like this, with her curled around the other, their mana pools were practically indistinguishable. That way, if any demon were to sneak up on them, they would think Homura's the stronger one and go for her head first, giving Madoka more than enough time to get their attacker in her sights and obliterate them. Homura just had to survive the initial attack.
Good thing she's spent her life mastering the defensive arts.
And speaking of defenses and power levels, during their time together Homura has learned that between the two of them, she's pretty sure she could kill Madoka if it really came down to it. The other demon had monstrous power at her disposal but her techniques were not refined in the least. No, Madoka was far more inclined to use the humans' own language against them rather than fight them head on.
It's a comfort to figure such a thing out, makes traveling with the other far less stressful.
A pleased little chirp, nothing like anything humans were capable of, slips past Madoka's lips as she curls further into Homura's embrace. "There are two women at the edge of the village, they seem a little distant from the rest. I can feel eyes on them at every corner. They're outcasts."
"I fail to see how that makes them worthy?" Homura frowns, eyes trained on the leaves far above them that try their best to give them shade from the sun. "I spied a family of five, I believe it's the leader of this settlement? Why not go for them?"
"Because, you glutton," Madoka poked her cheek, "they're the most paranoid. It would take so long to convince them we're not here to kill them."
"I'm shocked you do not want to try, anyway," Homura says, completely uncaring of the pointed, sharp nail jabbing at her.
"Not for lack of desire, I'm just hungry," Madoka pouts. "We haven't run into any travelers for weeks and it's making my tummy rumble at night."
—
"First thing's first," Madoka leans in closer. "I need you to practice your embarrassed face."
Homura's face remains the same blank expression as if carved from marble. "Embarrassed?"
"Yes! Just imagine your blood traveling to your cheeks as your heart speeds up." Madoka leans even closer, as if she can somehow see the process beneath Homura's skin if she just squinted hard enough. "Also I believe your hands should turn clammy as well, maybe even a little cold, as your blood travels to your face more than your extremities."
Imagine the blood traveling to your cheeks specifically, imagine your heart quickening in your chest? Homura's eyebrows bunch up into a frown of concentration as she stares dead at the pink eyes that engulf her vision. If Madoka got any closer, they'd brush lips.
Maybe it would be easier if she just stopped breathing? It sounded like it made sense, yes, that would help with the envisioning process.
And, so, she stayed that way for minutes on end.
At some point Madoka's head had begun to slowly nod until it picked up speed and a smile spread across her face. "Yes, yes, that's it! You're doing it! That expression is fitting as well, good job!"
Alongside her praise, she closed the final inches left between them and actually did press her lips against Homura's own.
"What was that?" Homura releases her breath and relaxes. She looks down and shakes her hands a bit, they have gotten colder.
"A kiss for a job well done," Madoka winks and steps away from her. "We're going to have to practice that, too. Not yet, though, keep up with the embarrassed face. You need to get more natural at it, you're looking constipated instead of cute."
Homura takes a moment to comprehend her words before nodding. "Anything else?"
Madoka grabs one of Homura's horns and immediately the jovial mood evaporates. Homura retains her blank expression with the addition of it having a markedly more threatening aura to it. "What are you doing?"
"I need one of your horns."
"Excuse me?"
Madoka brings up a hand, palm facing up, and a tiny projection spawns which shows a crude drawing of each of their faces. With one key difference: Homura's left horn being replaced with Madoka's own curved one, and Madoka's right horn being replaced with Homura's straight one.
"Are you mad?" Homura deadpans as she stares at the static image. It makes her feel...uncomfortable, to say the least. All this, for a mere two women?
"It's all part of the story, please?" Madoka lets go of her horn and clasps her hands in a pleading motion, pupils growing wide until they overtook the entirety of her eyes. "One quick regeneration spell, and it wouldn't even hurt. Much."
"Do you even know a regeneration spell?"
"Of course! I wouldn't be offering this if I didn't," Madoka huffs. "I'd be doing this to myself too, you know?"
Homura makes a surprisingly accurate face of disgust and looks away. This was not at all what she agreed to when she'd offered Madoka her partnership. Her horns were her pride and joy, she took care of them as much as she took care to refine her defensive techniques. The audacity of this demon to ask such a thing of her!
As much as she loathed the very idea of this, she was also a creature of cold logic. Cold logic which told her that getting into a fight with Madoka right here and now would spell disaster. They were both equally hungry and tired (actually, Homura was pretty sure she was more exhausted than the other, considering her paranoid nature and staying awake at night—) she digresses. All of this meant that because of the power of math and mana pools, Madoka was stronger than her at this current moment in time.
Maybe Homura would be able to get a lick in before Madoka completely erased her from existence, but that would be a cold comfort.
She sighs heavily in one of the most human expressions so far and turns to the other who has not stopped looking at her with that stupid pleading face of hers.
"Fine," she grits out.
—
"I feel lopsided," Homura complained.
"We'll get used to it," Madoka patted her on the shoulder. "We look so cool, though~"
Homura sighs. She's been doing that a lot for these past three hours spent reciprocating from that atrocious decision she's allowed to happen.
"By the way, Homura-chan. I'm going to need to cut off your arm."
"Say wha—"
—
[let's imagine Madoka brought an injured Homura to their doorstep and Homura is "sleeping" on the couch in the other room while they're talking.]
—
The shorter one glowers at Madoka. "They're demons! What, do you think they're just going to use one of our customs for themselves? That they're actually married? Don't be stupid!"
The other makes a pained face but stands her ground. "I'm not going to just ignore a hurt individual, demon or no."
"Um," Madoka makes a sound and cowers when the women turn to her in unison. "I didn't really want to show this but if it will put you at ease..." she trails off and takes off the cowl that she had thrown over herself, revealing the two mismatched horns on her head. One tipped pink and curved back, the other purple and straight.
"This is actually our custom," she explains in the face of their mute shock. "But demons that do this, that search for more than just refining magical techniques for the rest of our lives in order to kill humans, aren't looked upon with grace by our kind. If anything, they are seen as weak willed and deserving to be killed."
Here, she looks down and twists the golden band around her ring finger in melancholy. "I find your expression of devotion adorable, and I thought it could be a way for me and Homura-chan to express our own love for each other without fear of other demons coming for us. This way, it's like a secret between us, you know? It may not be 'official' or seen and recognized, but we'd know. And we'd cherish it, cherish these little rings for what they really are."
The short one has nothing to say to that, if anything, she looks shaken.
The taller one is biting the inside of her cheek to keep her emotions at bay.
[-dirty lying Madoka, for shame. They let them stay the night, and then they get killed, woe.-]
—
Kyoko is somewhere out there in cahoots with Sayaka. Sayaka brings her evil, criminals to eat and Kyoko helps her ward off other demons from her city.
Kyoko: "I am cultivating my food. This is a farm."
Homura: "You're so pathetic."
Kyoko: "At least I don't go hungry for weeks on end! Who's REALLY pathetic in that instance? That's right, you."