"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 [i]my [/i]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.