"A vehicle? But... motorcycles don't make me need to puke."

Air iiiiinnnnnnn........

Oooouuuuuuuuuut.

Ok. Ok. Standing here this isn't so bad. The problem is -want want want want want want [i]want want want want want[/i] wantwantwantwantwantwantwantwantwantwantGO!

Madeleine is off, and nothing matters anymore. If this is a vehicle then she's accidentally revved the throttle and now everything is about holding on. The rush is extreme, nothing but motion sickness, but if she just focuses on her legs she can at least move in a vaguely forward direction. This feels all kinds of wrong. So [i]slow[/i]. Especially for how much energy her body is burning. Is she just plain running wrong?

Maybe a flatter footfall, with a shorter stride? One. Two. One. Two. One two one two one two. She bumps into a shelf and knocks off a plate with a faded blue flower pattern but she's falling into the rhythm and now it almost feels like she's hovering. The jolt of impact on the floor is absorbed entirely by her shoes and now she can be a bullet aimed at the (give it to me give it to me giveittomegivegivegive).

The. Uh. Scoring zone. Her head is full of lightning. Something is trying to claw its way out of her her skull. She narrows her eyes and squeezes her face tighter and it briefly ebbs into the flow of her feet and her arms before suddenly spiking out of her back, instead. The lights in the room flicker. Just once. Only briefly. It could be mistaken for a blink.

Synskin is such an annoying invention. Madeleine has never agreed with it about what would be a debilitating blow, and having it on feels less like protection and more like a handshake that she will respect the presence of weapons and not always just run right through them. But even though she's in the outer circle she's just so much faster than these two... helpful gentlemen and it's annoying it's annoying it's [i]annoying[/i] needing to find an opening in their pattern.

So she doesn't.

Madeleine darts forward as directly as she can manage. She leans forward, putting her center of gravity as low to the ground as she can manage while still being able to run. Arms held tight together, no longer contributing to balance control, she flies through the room with a constant left-right-left pattern like some sort of particularly shadowy snake. Slipping under one staff and taking the other as a clip on the shoulder, she--

Feels her sneaker slide out from underneath her.

Tumbles forward head over feet over head.

Lands face first with her limbs bunched up behind her, butt and tail thrust into the air in the most undignified position possible.

A vase shatters on top of her. Her ears flinch at the noise.

In. Out.

Her face is inside the paint.

"I win." she mumbles into the floor.