"[i]Please [/i]use your name?" said Titanomachia. She didn't absorb it as a request, she took it as training data. "Oh, I see. That must be irritating you, huh? Working this hard, climbing all this way, qualifying for the regionals - even if barely - and people still don't acknowledge you?" She looked up, at you, biting a knuckle thoughtfully, watching the movement of your eyes even as she opened the door to the cafe for you.

Inside is beautiful. Gold and silver wire, flooding natural lights, flowers and cakes cascading together like rainbows. The women here shine with intricate jewelry patterns and radiant dresses. Maids await in every corner, eyes both downcast and alert, moving quickly to answer desires before they arise. There is already a table laid out for you two, set with cursive handwriting on marbled paper - Titanomachia and Pet.

She slams you down into the table. She'd let you become so used to the idea of her controlling you with the remote, moving your neck, that you've lost track of the basic fact that she is incredibly strong. She twists your arm behind you with one hand and takes your reins and pulls your head back, pinning you down amidst the silverware. She holds your face up against the paper. Every eye is on you.

"You have not earned that pride," she said, placing her knee firmly on your back. "You are weak. You are the weakest person in the tournament. Every player only knows you only insofar as they are hoping that you do not wind up on their team. All the beautiful ladies and diligent handmaidens in this cafe can hide their weakness behind the conventions of polite society. They can call on people to protect them if they are threatened. But you?"

She pushed her weight down harder on your spine. She leaned down to your ear and bit it.

"You are going into the ring," said Titanomachia. "Everyone will see you. Everyone will see you lose. Everyone will see stronger bodies [i]grip[/i]," she gripped your neck. "and [i]tear[/i]," she tore open the first few buttons of your blouse, revealing your neck. "and [i]break [/i]you." She pulled your hair, standing and pulling you back to your feet with her. Her arms wrapped around your waist and suddenly the force was gone. She was holding you gently from behind, head nestling into your back.

"You are going to be humiliated worse than anything you can imagine, and all of these elegant ladies will laugh about it with their handmaidens. None of them are bothering to learn your name because they do not think they will have to remember it for longer than this stolen season, this accident of placement, this tournament you got into because of [i]my [/i]mistake. That makes you my shadow, one that is already passing."

The grip tightened. Possessive.

"And I can't stand that," said Machia. "If you are my shadow then I would have you blot out the sun and stars. I will make of you a nightmare that my fall unleashed. I would have everyone speak your name with respect."

She released you. Straightened the silverwear, piece by piece.

"You are not a lady like these ladies. You are an animal, to be used for entertainment in the arena. Animals earn people's respect because they are beautiful and strong. Every child learns to sing of tigers and horses because they are too powerful to ignore. Let go of your illusions. Respect will follow."

She pulled out the chair for you.

"Now, sit."