Once, Homura's wings were vibrant. They were said to be as pretty as stained glass and she would count all the patterns they made. They shimmered with magenta, crimson, amber, and gold. They corresponded with her friends' favorite colors and their love made her fly. Along the edges there were purple feathers, her self-love.

She drank in the knowledge of these wings. With each new love a new color would stain the feathers. With each new love her feathers would slightly increase and she could fly stronger and better.

Something that frightened her, crawled up her spine with a chill, was that with the loss of love there would be loss of the feathers. The loss didn't matter; whether it was as mundane as drifting apart or as extreme as death.

She learned the former first-hand when her heart was extremely weak and her life was a whirlwind of hospital visits.

Homura would find feathers in clumps when she awoke. She would feel them drift off her wings as she walked through the exams, as she was wheeled to the surgeries. It seemed that that love was fickle.

When Homura found herself in a new school, after her heart was finally, seemingly, repaired, her wings were pitiful. The sparse purple feathers clung desperately.

She could not wrap her mind around the schoolwork. When she sat out at P.E. a group of girls whispered about her wings. She envied their complete wings.

And someone reached out to her, called her by her first name. It was the first time in a long time.

For a while, pink and yellow feathers began to fill out Homura's wings. When she made her wish they were scattered by the wind.

The colors of her feathers and the amount fluctuated and Homura was too wound up with anxiety to realize this.

When Madoka begged to not become a Witch and Homura granted that wish she numbly noticed through her blurred vision that pink and purple feathers were floating in the water.

Her wings were devoid of purple feathers after that.

From then on her wings never got comments because she learned to hide them with a façade. She was the mysterious new transfer student. Her schoolwork was exemplary. She ran laps around her classmates effortlessly and with grace.

Still she asked the way to the nurse's office.

On one timeline when everyone was dead and Madoka was steadfast she came to the battle. Through the midst of the battle Homura saw Madoka in front of Kyubey.

Homura had a paltry few pink feathers. She tried to fly to stop Madoka.

There was a flickering light, a burst of darkness. Homura fell, and she could achingly feel the pink feathers tear away from her wings.

So this is how it ends, Homura thought before she hit the ground.

It was not until later – much later – that Homura's entire world changed.

Madoka was no longer just a human girl. She gave her love to Homura and left to be a sanctuary for fallen girls.

(Kriemhild Gretchen was enveloped by Madoka's wings and dissipated. It was then that Homura realized that Madoka always had purple feathers nestled in her wings.)

Now, Homura's wings were small. Purple feathers were beginning to grow in. Alongside them were an array of colors; yellow, red, blue and pink that never fell.

A/N: Originally posted on AO3 on November 18 2020