Spellheart

Marcy shrugs, "I mean, I don't know if it was a normal sort of relationship to begin with. I still see her just about as much as when we were dating." Hanging her head, "I mean, there is a distance there that didn't exist when we were dating, but that is just to be expected, you know..." Marcy's hand tenses a bit, "I still care about her just as much too."
 
Momoko cringes a little to herself, feeling like she's stepped into bad territory. "Ah, s-sorry." She clears her throat. "Should we...go?" She asks slowly, pointing in front of them.
 
Marcy nods her head, "We are almost there anyway. This is your second time, right?" Marcy lets go of Momoko's hand to make a short dash to the door, skirt bouncing behind her. Holding her crystal ball up to the door, the door unlocks right away. Marcy opens the door, holding it open for Momoko. "Momoko, welcome back."
 
Momoko watches Marcy bounce up to the door. "How do you know that?" She asks, but doesn't wait for an answer before walking through the door. "And you never told me how you knew where I lived. Or my phone number!"
 
Speaking in a low voice, Marcy looks to the ground dejected, "I'm a little tired. Can we at least go inside before you keep grilling me for information? I want to lay down. I'm trying to be patient, I really am, but I'm reaching my limit. It hurts to be looked down on, you know."
 
Momoko blinks a few times, but nods. "O-okay," she stutters, her guilt laced through the one word. She lets her bag drop to the floor by the door and takes the door from Marcy, giving her a look that looked genuinely quite concerned.
 
Marcy looks a combination of embarrassed and surprised at the total tone shift that just occurred. Moving into the household, Marcy goes straight for the bedroom, a detail that Momoko had yet to seen. When she enters the room, she finds that it is much like the rest of the house, and not in a good way. Amiko's has a single desk, holding just a small make-up bag and a small mirror. Her bed is slightly larger than a twin, and matches thematically with the rest of the house, but there is an unsettling amount of stuff missing. Amiko's house looks to be almost entirely empty space, with only the absolute necessities. Amiko's living room proved the most expressive piece of furniture in the whole house.

When Momoko catches up with Marcy, she has her face thrown into a pillow. Betraying the dreary mood she produced, she also looked extremely vulnerable. She didn't even think twice about the skirt she was wearing, as her legs were spread wide enough to display her solid pink panties from the vantage point of the door. Marcy then shifts positions, hugging the pillow she was laying against to her chest tightly.
 
Momoko stands in the doorway of the bedroom, looking around in a mixture of confusion and shock. "She's not really got that much stuff, does she?" She says quietly, eyes drifting to Marcy. She catches a sort glimpse of something she wishes that she hasn't, and becomes suddenly fascinated by the doorknob, her index finger tracing it's surface. "D-do you want...some tea, or something?" She asks, not really knowing where things were but deciding that she would wing it if the answer was yes.
 
Marcy's eyes just barely peek out over the pillow that she is in the process of hugging. Fortunately, she didn't seem to be crying or anything extreme, but she was definitely emotional. Her words come out a bit distorted from her attempts not to get choked up, "Could you just sit down for a bit?" Marcy seems to be referring to the bed as opposed to the lone chair at Amiko's desk. With the way Marcy laid straight down the middle, it would only be possible to sit with your legs hanging off unless you wanted to get rather close and personal.
 
Momoko hesitates, moving her finger away from the doorknob. "Alright." She says after a few seconds, stepping away from the door. Her steps are a little awkward and uneven as she expects Marcy to shuffle out of the way at least a little, though she doesn't. In the end, she perches on the end, keeping her feet hip length apart, with her elbows on her knees. She stares down at the floor, and then glances up at Marcy. "You...wanting to talk? I've been told I'm a good listener." She chuckles a little.
 
Marcy pauses, then resigns herself, "To be honest, I don't know... I brought you here because I thought you might feel like I did, but after our conversation earlier, I don't really know anymore. You don't seem hurt at all."
 
Momoko scratches the back of her neck with her bitten down fingernails. "Well, you weren't exactly my favourite person then." She shrugs. "You said some things that rubbed me the wrong way, and I think I said some things that rubbed you the wrong way, so I don't think either of us was really in the right frame of mind to gauge emotions." She pauses. "I feel like that came off as really patronising. Sorry."
 
Marcy flops on her belly, giving Momoko more space on the bed. "I don't mean it like that. I was talking about Amiko... I thought you might be the one person who might care about what has happened to her." Elaborating, "You asked me before about how I knew things like your number, name, and address. I didn't need to do much at all. Just like you got a letter that had Amiko's name, number, and address for the exam, she also got one with yours. I wanted to support Amiko, so obviously I watched the whole thing. I wanted to see it all. So I've been watching since the moment you came to her door."
 
Momoko shuffles backwards, slipping her shoes off and pulling her feet up onto the bed. She sits with her legs crossed. When Marcy explained how she knew everything, she couldn't help but shudder. "You're...pretty good at hiding, then." She says. Could it be something to do with her change in appearance? "And I do care. She got hauled off to jail and I don't know why. I thought we'd be friendly in the long run."
 
Marcy shakes her head, "You've seen the place for yourself, Amiko couldn't commit a crime here if she tried. There just isn't any equipment or places to hide anything. It would be a waste of everyone's time to conduct a search. But, you are misunderstanding something. Amiko isn't in jail right now. It's a lot worse than that. She is suspected of treason and therefore is in interrogation. The grounds for the investigation are excessive use of the Spellheart Communication Center. As of this moment, there is no evidence to suggest that Amiko has done anything wrong, yet she has to endure this..."
 
Momoko's eyebrows raise in surprise. "Treason?" She repeats, staring down at the ground. She hated the word treason, partially because it was a crime, but more because it was so unspecific. "What did she do? Or what do they think she's done?" She asks.
 
Marcy looks Momoko dead in the eyes, her anger and sadness conveyed clearly through the intensity of her eyes, "They don't think she has done anything. I said it before, as of right now, there is absolutely no evidence that Amiko has done anything wrong. If it became known that she had been detained like this, there would likely be a special hearing, and many people would lose their jobs. That is why they picked her up quietly. They wanted to be able to do whatever they wanted, regardless of if they had a legitimate basis."
 
In Momoko's eyes, all that can be seen is confusion. "Why've they done it then?" She asks. "If they've got no real reason behind it, then why are they wasting their time? Don't they have better things to do?"
 
Marcy bites down, causing her lip to bleed a slight bit. She flinches at first, obviously having done so unintentionally, but opts to finish her thought before moving to the bathroom to deal with the damage, "Obviously they want her to be afraid of what they can do to her. I think you'll understand when Amiko gets back." Marcy moves into the bathroom, where she works to seal the wound on her lip. Looking in the mirror, she seems satisfied with the result, returning to the bed.
 
Momoko flinches at the sight of the blood and instinctively looks away, staring at the bedsheets. "What if she doesn't come back?" She asks, glancing up at Marcy when she comes back. "I mean, I'm not assuming she is guilty of anything, but what if they say that she is, or find a way to make it look like she is?" 'Or if she actually is?' She nearly says this last thought out loud, but decides against it, anticipating that it would start a fight.
 
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