"Water is available at the combination hospital bed and torture slab!" said Titanomachia brightly as the Dakinis lifted you by the arms and began to drag you to the entrance where Titanomachia posed, hand raised to her mouth[1]. "But we might be in track for more of function one tonight. I need to do a full calibration of your biology to make sure you processed all this shit properly. Also that you didn't crack your skull any of those... seven times? Eight?"

[1] A shot-for-shot recreation of the iconic Capture of Princess Truesmile in the classic animation Lovely Hearts: Kissy Connect, as you would soon find out.

"My darling sentinels here have kindly volunteered to drag you all the way home," said Machia, leaning down with a glint in her eyes. She was back with it now, the disharmony in her resolved at last. "Though if you prefer, I will return yesterday's favour and carry you myself. What do you think?"

"No... no! We can't, stop! Not for... not for this!"

Her stupid traitor lungs won't breathe right, they can't seem to hold any air. No matter how much she wheezes, it's like she's just done laps around the city limits. It almost sounds like a death rattle. Her body is soaked through with sweat and her hair seems somehow thinner than before, though that might just be because something has rendered it limp and greasy. Even the omnipresent dark circles under her eyes have deepened, as though someone stole several nights of sleep in the last ten minutes.

"Let me... walk. At... least. I can do that. I can... I can. I can do it. Let me... please. I'm so, so, I'm so... tired. Of losing. Like this..."

Her shoe squelches when it taps against Stripes. Something happened to her foot. The idea of letting her even limp back draped over someone else is laughable. But still she glares at Titanomachia, daring her to tell her no.

And her eyes, at least, are bright as lanterns. Her irises are steady and clear as they drink in every detail of the woman currently looming over her. The sense is that she'd throw a punch if her arm wasn't so heavy.

"I'm... not. Going back like this. They can't come. I don't... want that. I'll walk. I'll walk. Let me... walk."

"Oh-ho-ho?" said Titanomachia. "I thought you were tired of losing?"

She leaned down slowly, to allow the imagined Imperial Princess dress to billow behind her in all it's magnificent black finery, lace and gold and weave.

"Trust me, little dove," she quoted. "For one in your position? This is a mercy." She leaned down, eyes absorbing all light. "Let me take care of you~"

And with a sudden rush of her shoulder, stand and straighten, she pulled Madeline Cross up into an over-the-shoulder carry. As though to emphasize the point, she flicked her tail up into her face. One arm locked into place around her knees, and then she was off, striding confidently down the street, prize held securely.

"Put me down! I said put me... down! I can, I can, I can walk! I can WALK you... egomaniac! I want to... nnnngh! Listen to me, you, you, gackphbbttt!"

Madeleine spits tail hairs out of her mouth and then all at once the fight seems to drain out of her. She hangs as limp as a dead body over Machia's shoulder, left with nothing to do with herself but feel the rhythm of the walk and watch the sidewalk pass by.

She could fall asleep like this, if only she dared. The sweat covering her body has started to dry off, pushing her from burning hot to clammy cold, but the back she's pressed into is strong and warm. She squishes her cheek against it and moans as she bounces down the street. Her breathing is slowly settling, though it still sounds like it belongs to a dying woman. When she presses her ear flat she can hear stronger, healthier lungs and a steady heart.

All she has to do is match this pace, and she'll be ok. She'll be ok. She's stronger than this, she'll show you.

People are watching her. She can't see them, but she knows it. What are they going to say this time? What are they going to write about in the morning? For once she doesn't know. Her mind refuses to picture it. Her heart refuses to care. There's no room in her heart for anything but the war raging for control of her emotions. The shame of having failed, of having failed in this specific way and the terror of knowing it had never come for her in Aristeia! training before, against an inexplicable sense of comfort emanating from this... this warmth, this softness, this irritatingly steady gait, these muscles that she must be close to earning a doctorate in studying.

"If you... hated me carrying you so much, I... I wish you had. Said something. I had... an entire plan for today. I wanted - you are so annoying - I wanted to show you my apartment. I have nothing to wear now. I was... going to teach you about... it's all ruined now. It's all ruined. Everything is ruined. I can't stand this."

But if that was true, then why had she started to smile? Was she so tired it was making her delirious? Those weren't even the words she'd meant to use. Oh, terrible. Absolutely terrible. How was she ever going to get stronger if she loved being weak this much? That can't be true. But it has to be. There's no other explanation for the fluttering inside of her.

Titanomachia radiated strength. Her energy grew as yours ebbed, like darkness advancing towards a dying bulb. All that wicked yin of her went into holding you aloft like a war banner; if you could not be glorious then you could at least be a glorious prize.

"Your tail," said Machia suddenly. "It's been low on my check lists, but I am now noticing these hairs are significantly longer and stronger than my own. And is that...?" her nose pushed in amidst those silky hairs, taking a deep breath. "... tip of my tongue, I can't recognize the scent. Is it because your cranial hair is natively straight so the genetic translation is simpler? My tail and hair are incompatible hair types - this tangle wants to curl - but yours feel like extensions of each other. Is it routine, diet, environmental? Tell me everything you know."