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 [i]curl [/i]- but yours feel like extensions of each other. Is it routine, diet, environmental? Tell me everything you know."