"Mmmgh... ch-chic? She doesn't, nnnnnnnm, know what that word means."

So many hands. Those soft, slightly sweaty ones really are her favorite, though. Familiar but new and strong but nervous and delicate but controlled and right where she feels the worst but she wishes they would move lower to caress the spot around her tail and why is she thinking this what is this thought who is it for who is thinking it for her exactly please stop that she needs her brain for thinking now.

Her body is still melting, still sizzling, still decomposing into gelatin. Her mind is confused, she doesn't understand why nothing is stopping. If someone wasn't still calling her 'Madeline' it would be impossible to focus on anything at all. Sleep. She just wants to sleep. What is the fastest way to make this conversation stop? 

"I'mmmmmmmmmm~" she sighs, "Teaching her. TitannnnnnnoMachia is... my project. And I don't, aaaaaahhhh, n-not those ones, don't... put those there, hhhf, hhhh, aaaaaa!"

Her teeth clench. Her fingers coil tight into Blanche's fur. Her tail swishes and hits somebody in the face; she turns her head but can't tell which one of them is there. It's too hard to see. But she pushes a breath out and forces her body to be solid for a moment. To be real. 

"I need your arena. So I... mmnmn, will pay your price. But I'm... watching you. Don't you dare set me back. If I think you're interfering I'll-- aaa?! Ee-eeeep!"

Those hands she called her favorite are digging into her spine. There is something about their sharpness, this particular jab of pain that feels like coffee dripping on marker stains. She has no defense, not here like this.

"Yes, yes, ok ok ok! We'll do the thing, just... stop!"