"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."

"Wh-why now of all the-- nngh, you idiot! Not here, not... ok, ok, ok! I'll talk about it! I'll talk! J-just stop... stroking it where people can see!"

Madeleine is flushed and hot again, her body stiffly coming to life against the shoulder she's trapped on before the pressure suddenly eases and she collapses again into a horsegirl-shaped sack. Now her heartbeat is strong, if still erratic. The comparisons to a corpse are fleeing, and she'd like them to come back, please. If this is Machia's idea of being kind, then-- EEP!

She swats her in the face in retaliation.

"St, stop that! You're smelling orange blossoms, ok? And lavender. I use an argan oil treatment twice a week with the first scent, and my leave-in conditioner is the second. Horse tails aren't like the other kinds, all those cats and dogs you see running around. They're... much more sophisticated. Elegant. I treat all of my hair with care because it is part of me, and I am the final most essential piece of my fashion."

Of all the distractions she could possibly be offered, this is surely the dumbest one. It is so annoying that it's working. Would she, she wonders, be so indulgent on such a sensitive topic if she were less trapped? She'd like to imagine she wouldn't fall for it. But she is for all the difference that it makes just trapped in the levitator again with nothing to do but float and think. It beats falling asleep like this at least.

She sighs.

"There's a... very particular rhythm to the shampoo application and rinse. As gentle as possible, fingers spread apart. It took a while to learn a good technique. After a shower, I pat it dry. The conditioner works best on lightly damp hair, so that's why. After that I braid it most nights. It helps the oils soak in. That's what keeps the hairs silky and glossy. And don't brush. Almost never brush. If you're having a problem, you are... almost certainly overbrushing."

If it's possible for a person dangling over someone else's shoulder to draw themselves up with pride, then Madeleine does it. There's so little energy in her body that she'd still look pathetic even standing up, but even so her ears are lifting up on her head again and her tail has started dancing as if to show itself off. Just look! Look how pretty it is!

"Tail hairs take a very long time to regrow, if you pluck them. Possibly years. And brushes always pluck them, even if you're gentle. To stimulate tail growth, you're meant to massage the places nearest the base. The muscles promote strong, healthy growth. So you need to rub at the base of the back and the... uh. Th-the. Er."

Oh no. Madeleine sees the trap swing shut on her too late for it to matter. Why did this conversation have to happen on a public street? With a celebrity at that? She turns red, a true full-body blush, and starts to tremble the more her imagination runs away with her.

"The... area b-below that. As well. So. Um. Butt. But! You're probably... more interested in solutions for tangles.

"...Right?"

"No brushing?" said Machia, sounding genuinely upset and betrayed. "But the whole point is - mmm! Solutions; change brushes, change biology, overstimulate growth." Her hand moved ominously up along the tail towards the... growth regions. "Sometimes the gap between what I want and the tools available to me feels -" she gripped the base of the tail firmly. "- frustrating."

She held there, tight and firm for a moment, and then released - and pressed into the base of the spine with two fingers, circling around firmly and absently as her mind wandered. Her legs kicked up a bit, a jog working its way into her system by bits and pieces, irritated energy seeking an outlet.

"Short term forces compliance with reality," she said, bouncing you on her shoulder with her knee-ups, even as her fingers continued their rotation. From this angle you could see the blue light glowing underneath her shirt - glitters of Vade Retro as she jolted back and forth. "Long term - mm. I need to run. I'm going to try and use Vade Retro to keep you stabilized as I go. Tell me more about the tangles as I go."

One ear flicked forwards. The other down, towards you. Her eyes locked onto the future. Her hands gripped the base of your tail and the back of your knees. Her muscles strained as they sought their perfect configuration. The air glittered as it was forced into a perfect configuration. She was an eagle, ready to fly, black rabbit caught in its talons. Three, two...

"Were you about to tell me the point of having a tail is... brushies? Are you eight?!"

For a moment Madeleine can't speak. She needs her air for gasping and her breath for moaning. There are fingers pressing into the most sensitive part of her back and at the same time she is being bounced on top of a firm yet warm and yielding surface and she has never been so confused in all her life as she is right now.

And then she's hit with the sensation of running and the world takes shape again. These should be her footfalls on the city pavement, her legs pushing her forward and her body absorbing and redirecting the impact, but even still it is her hair being pulled by the resistance of the air around her and even through the efforts of Vade Retro she can still feel momentum.

So everything makes sense again. Which is how she remembers she's mad.

"I'm not even going to tell you," she huffs, "Why should I waste my time explaining tail care to an ignorant oaf like you?"

Her mind is racing right alongside Machia. Running like this she can see the pathways to the future and they all frighten her as much as they make her furious. Maybe it is just the residual effects of the cubegel speaking to her but this is an even bigger indignity than being pulled from training against her will.

What happened last time you assumed your stupid ideas had more weight than Madeleine's expertise? hmmmMMMMMM, Titanomachia?!

"Stop it! Stop even thinking about what you're thinking about! And turn at that corner! Run all you like, but wE... are going shopping! A woman of your, nnnfff! Po-potential! I wonnN'TT - be more careful down there, idiot! - I won't stand for it!"

Even though she feels like she's shouting at the top of her lungs, her voice is low and breathy. Just very full of passion. If it were possible to cross her arms in defiance or take any kind of powerful stance while being held like a sack of presents she would be doing it right now. Instead she is pressed into the strongest shoulder in the world, jolting but nowhere near as much as the speeds she's traveling at tell her she ought to be.

She's going to run out of breath for this soon. But the fire still has air.

"Don't you dare start tweaking yourself over this deluded fantasy before you even understand what proper tail care FEELS like. And you will. I don't trust you with this... I'm handling it myself. Do you understand me? I will be the one to wash it. Treat it, braid it. I'll teach you all about tangle treatments while I'm massaging them out with my bare hands! Brushing! Honestly! You absolute horse!! We'll see how much you want brushings... when I'm done with you."

"Your rest day is tomorrow," said Titanomachia thoughtfully, legs devouring the city miles. "You may do as you wish then, in preparation for the evening's battle. Tonight you're still on my schedule."

Sliding, but not losing momentum. She's changed the friction on her shoes. She's coming down, down into a crouch. And she's

Leaping

Carrying

Flying

Through the air

Legs extending before her

Kicking out the cardboard cover on her broken window

Twisting perfectly in the air as she soars into her apartment

Slashing - wobbling - the artificial leg comes in wrong, she staggers forwards, arm flying out for support, balancing on tiptoe with her overbalancing cargo tilting her out of control. The fall has started but now it's going to be a thing of stages, each part of it a new struggle for balance. Grabbing at the couch, turning towards a safety roll to protect her head, lifting Madeleine up in the air, holding her for a moment like a ballet dancer before all the momentum comes back in and slams her head-first into the couch and the soft embrace of Blanche.

Titanomachia sprawls on her back on the floor.

"Hmmm," she said.

"...Well caught, Blanche. Thank you."

The nature of the entrance meant the only place Madeleine could have ended up was in a tangle of tiger and Titanomachia. The only difference between now and the way in is that her body is pressed against the front of the woman who carried her here instead of the back. She tried to push herself up with the help of the couch so that she'd merely be straddling Machia instead of sharing entirely too much personal space, but her hand slipped and ended up in her hair.

She tilted her head and stared as her fingers pushed through that tangled chestnut jellyfish of a mane. As she sat there she massaged it, with rather more aggression and thoroughness than the situation really called for, circling ever closer to the ears. And then she slipped free, and rolled over onto her back next to everyone, instead.

"Tomorrow. Fine. But don't you dare run away. Your treatments begin as soon as I have what I need."

She groaned as she swung her foot up into the air so she could fumble with her shoelaces. Everything was sore and exhausted, and she was starving. But she'd felt it snap in training. She needed to know. The shoe dropped onto her thigh and bounced off of her stomach, drawing a wince. Her sock had been white when she'd put it on for training; it was red now. She sucked in breath through her teeth and slowly peeled that layer off as well. Shattered toenails oozed but did not drip anything actively, and she let her foot drop back to the floor.

"Not the worst... that I've seen it. No cause for concern. What is tonight's training then, that was so important we had to rush straight here?"