Madeleine watches the screen in silence. Occasionally she reaches up and touches the spot beneath her eye socket with two fingers, but apart from that she doesn't move a lot, either. Some strange mix of horror and fascination keeps her eyes glued to the screen. 

This is her fault. It's her fault in three ways, minimum. If she hadn't told Lios about the cake she would have stormed off like normal and been safe. If she had done a better job with the summoning circle, Taowu would not have appeared and everything would be a mess, but safe. If she had stood her ground and fought, then things would have...

She reaches up and brushes the spot under her eye again. She shivers. 

Guilt and shame and some much stranger third thing squirm inside of her uncomfortably. All she can do is watch the broadcast and sit inside of her own head. Was she telling the truth to these people, in front of these cameras? Was this whole thing really all about..? No. No, her presence today was only due to the combination of Machia's reckless half-finished homework and Madeleine's inadequacy as a spirit medium. The song she sang, the words she spoke... those were meant for just the two of them. 

But then why? She wouldn't need a hostage, and thinking about it from the perspective of arena stories there was no reason for somebody as famous as Taowu to involve a nobody Madeleine in one of her extracurricular feuds. Even allowing for the boost of interest associated with her training with Machia, it'd fizzle as soon as she got into the arena proper and failed to get herself into the winner's group with all the other major players. And Taowu was very cautious, for a demon. Even Madeleine hadn't been sure if her whole routine was a clever hacker's scheme for the camera or if she'd been legitimate until she'd come crawling out from the apartment floor. 

That didn't make any sense unless her interest in Lios was legitimate. And that meant she valued something about Lios, and [i]that[/i] meant she probably would have made a play like this at some point or another. There wasn't even a way of knowing what had happened in here to begin with, since she'd run away like a frightened animal. Maybe Lios Emiral was a sub? Maybe she signed on for this? 

Madeleine blushes, and shakes her head. She pulls her tail around from behind her and starts to comb it with her fingers, one two three four, two two three four...

It was beyond her. She'd have to ask if she wanted to know. Although, if Lios did not already dislike her before, then--

She turns her head, and stares at Machia.

"...Are you familiar with the story of [i]Der Freischütz?[/i]" she asks in monotone, "Six magic bullets for the huntsman, and one for the devil."

She brushes her tail in silence for a moment, and then she shifts her seat closer so she can brush Machia's instead.

"The thing I hear most people ask is, 'what if I never shoot the seventh bullet?' This is because they do not know the story. People are not as clever... as they like to give themselves credit for. They might miscount, or assume they can live with the consequences. Or something outside of their control might compel them to reach for the gun. In the operatic version, a man even teaches his son to forge new bullets to pass the cost off to him. It does not matter. The final shot strikes him cold. I have found that dealing with the Underworld is always like this. It does not give: it only pretends to, so it can take. That's why the only school of magic I practice is banishing."

There had been a horrible knot in Machia's tail hairs, but Madeleine has soothed it out with clever fingers and soft strokes of the back of her hand. The brush might have been easier, but it's hidden in a drawer somewhere, and she could not stand up to retrieve it. Only now is she able to take her feet. She walks away, and picks up the cybernetic leg. 

"It isn't fair at all," she says, clutching it tight, "I first came to you deaf and you fixed me. I cannot even heal your leg in return."

On wobbly legs, she stumbles back across the room. She kneels in front of Machia as though proposing, aligning the leg with one hand and tracing the smooth, cold metal of the connection ring with the fingers of the other. She leans forward, and touches her forehead to Machia's thigh. Her ears wiggle plaintively, quietly begging for something she does not receive.

"I am sorry." she whispers as she pulls away. 

There is no good way to do this gently, except to wrap her fingers around Machia's upper thigh. She grips the firm flesh there and, slowly and carefully as she can, slots the cybernetic back into place so she can begin the delicate work of locking it and reactivating it. In the end, that's all she's really capable of.