Madeleine's war from now on is to maintain eye contact with Machia. That is the nature of the magic she has cast here, and the vessel that contains her victory. The longer she can capture the magenta inside her amber without blinking, the more she will grow. The less she lets the bridle pull her away, the steadier she can keep her head, the more time she will have to weave her magic. The longer she does this, the more invincible she will seem.

She grabs her tail and wraps it around Machia's wrist. Now they are fastened tight together, one above and one below. She stares through wide eyes like a lanternfish, the blackness of her hair contrasting against the paleness of her face to sell the illusion. You must believe she is invincible, Machia. You must believe she is inevitable. You must believe that she can do this forever. 

You cannot be allowed to think through the ramifications of what she's done. You cannot be allowed to know how uncomfortable this really is. On, on so many levels. Inside her mouth the heat is building. Her tongue is growing overwhelmed from the heavy flavors. It will be hardly any time at all before she gags, and then she will be obliged to either cough or swallow when she cannot afford either one. 

She tugs her tail tighter, pulling Machia further into the moment. Stay here, you brilliant moron. Stay with me. Believe me. 

She dares to push the fork forward. She cannot force Machia's lips open, but she can paint them with decadent chocolate creams. She can let Machia feel their weight, their softness, their richness, and call to mind the flavor that is [i]right there[/i], if she will only blink one more time. 

Or she can pull away, leer at Madeleine, and pull on her reins. Then she will break. There will be no choice but to swallow, and at least half of what is in her mouth will come dribbling down her chin. Even then it might be called a victory, if someone kindly were to wipe it clean before it fell and feed it back to her, drip by drip. Or it might spatter against the table, and just be called her loss.

But which world does she live in?