The bar was...unusually reticent, in the lower layers of her mind (and she hadn't pried further; she wasn't sure if she'd be noticed; she wasn't sure if offending would get her kicked out, and regardless of whether it was actually safe it was safer than anywhere else she'd been for the past...three years?) so she couldn't be sure this place wasn't really a trap of some kind, but the higher layers gave a plausible explanation that didn't involve being a trap, and whatever else it was warm and dry and had food. Her guard was probably a full 25% down. Positively trusting, these days.
"...I think I had better not," the other one says after a moment of looking incredibly conflicted. "Differences and...stuff. Um. I'll just...do the magic thing and then flee like a coward, probably."
"...I think probably not, but it's...a good thought. Anyway." She gives her alt a look. Cerebella rolls her eyes a little, and opens the door. The other one darts through it.
Her world. It can only be hers, of the three, because it's dotted with minds of a familiar kind--mutants. Too few, far too few, and more winking out all the time as the Sentinels reap their bloody work.
The image dissolves, and reforms--one of the deadly metal creatures, looming over a screaming woman. A barrier springs up between them. Protection, murmurs a voice from nowhere.
Another Sentinel, shifting rubble out of the way to reach the young boy it was shielding, raising an arm to--crush him, or spear him through the chest, or something. It halts, shuddering--and collapses in on itself. Vengeance, the voice whispers. (She hates herself, a little, because she has gotten to the point where that sounds more appealing.)
She sees herself, older, wiping out a horde of them with a single magical blast. She sees others. She sees her sister, in an outfit not much less ridiculous than the one her alt had been wearing. She sees a girl with purple skin being offered a similar choice.
I will follow you, the voice murmurs. Your people need not be powerless. You can be the vanguard of a new era. A leader, as those before you were, and would have continued to be. You are not broken beyond repair.
She sees herself, laughing, face lined with past grief but not so overburdened by it that she cannot walk forwards.
"Fear, devourers of kin! Flee, evildoers unto the innocent! The Rose of Defiance is come, and there is no promise of mercy for the spillers of blood in her heart!"
She looks down at her rose-petal mid-thigh skirt, and at her forearms. She has bracers. With roses like corsages on the wrists, and otherwise--thorns, yep. "Indeed. Well, I can't say I don't feel thorny."
"My magical girlnesses played pretty nice with each other. I got shinier colors but the same basic costume design I already had."
"This kind of magical girlness...does seem like the kind of thing that plays well with others."
"If you got a heavy hitting combat spell for your first...I will be slightly jealous but not necessarily surprised given your situation."
"There's a giant squid in the lake, who is a long-term resident and should not be shot at."
And she goes outside, holding the door long enough to invite followers, if they want to see the magic thing. In addition to the lake, there is a forest, and a mountain off in the distance. Rose of Defiance decides to position herself such that if she just fires off a random energy blast or something it will just go harmlessly into the sky. And her spell is...
Flip-the-grip-on-the-whips arms folded over chest back of the hands out "Flowerstorm Barrage!"
Gosh. That sure is a lot of rose petals going at an awfully high velocity. In a lot of colors, too, which is odd given that the roses on her wrists are just red.
"Like, are you surprised that her attack is a swarm of colorful roses, at all. My kind usually winds up with actual weapons of some kind or sometimes beams of energy."