And I also feel the urge to talk about the strange melancholy that comes over me as I read it. The story of these particular girls has never been as grim and cold as it is here; Eila's momentary 'what am I DOINGs' hit hard as she finds herself still not entirely sure why she's staying here, even though I'm sure by now we all already know. There's this feeling of, quite literally, dancing on the razor's edge here.

And a really sad explanation for where one particular habit started.

Also is it weird to say I find the strike witches story so much more different when they don't have their friendly neuroi defector as part of the roster?

Christmas Eve is going to bring tears, I just know it.