Phoe

Aristeia! Building a Champion

"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!"

Aristeia! Building a Champion

What is? Uh?

Auuuuuugghhh hands hands hand hands! they're in, nnnnfffff, mmmmmgguuuhhhhh fkakodkfjslh;fhslkfkiqehfn.

Mmn?

Ehehehehe.

Those ones feel different. Niiiiiiiiiice. Warm and soft. They're trembling, that's so cute. It's soooooooooooooooo shhzzzzzzzzrrrrrrrble. Mmgh. Ah, ah, ah, Ahhhhhh~

Madeleine sweats, and Madeleine melts into her salts and fluids. Madeleine twitches and Madeleine makes indecent noises that a proper lady ought not have inside of her, particularly in the company of other women though she can't remember right now why that part's important. It is like her tail stimulations but those don't feel half as mind meltingly nice as this.

...It's probably because none of these hands are hers, ehehehehehe! She can't tellLLLlL when they're going to touch her, apply pRessure, rub or stroke or circle or squeeze or, uuuuhhhhhh. Um? Well, it. Nnnnf. Yuhuh.

There's a voice. Asking her a question. Being very rude to her. As if she hadn't recently doubled the number of people she speaks to with any regularity. Her rational brain, still floating above her body, reaches for her neck and takes her reins. Madeleine flutters her eyes until the shadows become bubbles she can ride back up into the light of Titanomachia's room.

Her voice is silky smooth and powerful again.

"Autumn wolves," she replies, "Can't won't chorus. Chiron runs with fair ribbons through grand many stars."

And she flops back down again. Was that five seconds?

Aristeia! Building a Champion

Her ears are burning. If they were not covered in silken black hair they would certainly be the brightest red. The name ringing inside of them is her own.

And the power of a name is that the entire rest of her has gone numb. She must be feeling the fatigue harder than she thought, or maybe it was the latent build up of fear? No, more nervousness than outright fear. Fear does not explain this strange drop in her stomach or the dancing in her chest. It explains the tightness, but not this heat. Though neither does anything to explain why all she can think is

Madeleine, Madeleine, Madeleine. Madeline, no Madeleine! It's indecent to have the thoughts she's having. She must be the first woman on the planet broken enough to be thinking them. But she spirals and she sweats and she flusters, and she twitches when she feels that tap against her nose.

Ah. There's that prey instinct after all.

"IIIII," her voice is not smooth anymore, "Don't really think the press wants to talk to mE?"

She lets an indecent giggle escape her throat. Oh, this is bad. This is quite bad. She would like to not be quite so naked anymore, please? This feeling of exposure is very unpleasant, actually? Please start running, please start running, please running running running leave? Literally get out? Why are you still here??

"I am good at being quiet!" she says with much too much force.

"And the only person I talk to anymore is just Titanomachia." this time she's too quiet by half.

Silence. Very awkward, terrible silence. She understands now why Machia thought it was a good idea to brandish an egg beater. Why is this still happening? She asked it not to! She wants to wrap herself in shadows and run off the surface of the earth to somewhere secret where she can whisper to Blanche and be safe and this is all the opposite of that.

"...Yes?" she tries again.

Aristeia! Building a Champion

Contrary to what her anecdote might have implied, Madeleine Cross was not particularly skittish for a horsegirl. The consequence of seeing ghosts and evil spirit creatures in every shadow was that she quickly had to make the choice to either dial up her resolve to max on a constant basis, or fall over dead from several heart attacks. It took a lot to startle her to the point of bolting. Until it didn't.

The only reason she is still in the room right now is that she was tied to a table when the intrusion happened. A sudden strain into her straps, caught and dissipated. Now she lay still, seemingly ignored by both other figures in the room. With flight cut off, the old patterns reassert herself. She is calm, and she is quiet, and she wants nothing to do with this woman whatsoever if she can help it. And if she simply stays shut up, meditates and presses her face into Blanche, she might escape notice entirely.

"Don't... call her that."

Her own voice surprises her. The smoothness of it. The chill. She turns her head but from this position she can't quite look either of them in the eye. They'd have to come to her.

"That vulgar word. That is not her name. So don't..."

Aristeia! Building a Champion

For a long time, Madeleine is quiet. Her tail flicks involuntarily but outside of that and a random ear movement or two she is as still as Blanche. There is nothing but the motion of the dimscalp and the slow dance of her muscles toward recovery.

"I think you see yourself as a failure," she says without lifting her head, "Because you're trying to foster potential that is not there."

A sigh. A swish. She is secured to the table and there is nothing for her to do. It is the sort of gesture that renders a lot of what she could say and do irrelevant. Didn't she already tell Machia she was wasting her time?

"Put a broadcast on. Go ahead. If you can find one... where they bother talking about me. You'll see what they say. It's what they all say. What they always have said."

Swish, flicker flicker. Madeleine winces as a sore spot suddenly flares to life. Her arms tense around Blanche, but she doesn't struggle, doesn't strain. Flicker swish swish. She is still. She is here.

"You are the only person I have ever met who called what I have 'potential'. I'm sure that it's a lie but... no one's bothered lying to me, either."

Sigh. Twitch lift flick. Settle.

"...You know, I've thought about HexXer a lot since you brought her up. I don't believe she uses Vade at all. Or if she does, then only just. It kills me to tell you this, but you are the smartest person I have ever met. I refuse to believe the gap between your capabilities is that high. Her magic is lying. She is up to something, and whatever it is I do not want it."

Stare. Shadows dance on the farthest wall. One of them looks like a clawed and grasping hand. It stretches out toward the table and then melts away.

"I don't want the chemical stimulants. They are inferior to coffee in every possible way. If I pull Xoxic I am going to tell her to stay away from me, and that I will kick her in the throat if she doesn't. I hope she is an enemy. She is an enemy. I see that now. And you..."

Flicker. Swish. Smile?

"...And by the way, you are an idiot. You do realize I'm using you, yes? When I've fixed your tail... and your hair... and your fashion... your makeup... when I pierce those magnificent ears of yours... you'll finally see the shape of the spell I am casting. See? I've already lied to you... so please. Keep lying to me, too."

Because nobody else will. Because the alternative to the wrong peak is getting tired partway up and saying, 'eh that's close enough.' Because whatever world the answer is on, if it's even there at all, there's no one else who'd think to look for it. No one. No one else at all.

Her heartbeat flutters. Nnngh. These stupid chemicals really are the worst.

Aristeia! Building a Champion

"If this is too much... you should say so. I need you whole. There is no one to take care of me if you are not."

Her clothes come off without ceremony. The coin flip comes up null this time; there's too much else going on to feed any active bandwidth into something they've done so many times already. Besides, they are both women. Nothing is even possible between them. Every one of those stupid little pangs was nothing but jealousy, or... inadequacy, or shame. If it felt like excitement that was just further proof she was broken. More hauntings for the pile.

She hobbles over to Blanche and clutches the tiger to her. If she's going to waste a day like this on pointless trivialities she might as well be comfortable while she does it. Back to the table, the usual spot. If only it was the usual maniac.

"...No leg then. Whatever. But this is frustrating. I cannot train, you say. I cannot do any of the things I want until the morning. I can't even go home. You look like you are about to pass out. Why are we bothering? Go rest if you need it, I will heal. I am fine. There is no danger. It released me the second I wound up on your back. So, what then? What are you still thinking about? Am I... that much of a disappointment?"

Aristeia! Building a Champion

It takes a minute to want to move in the face of this. But no one else is going to do it for her, and lying still is only making things worse. With the backing track of a hyperventilating horsegirl to get her pumped, Madeleine Cross drags herself up the couch arm and onto her feet.

She makes it as far as her knees before she realized this isn't going to work. She whimpers like a dying flute and drops back onto the floor. But it's too soon to give up: she pulls her knees up into her chest and then stretches out her arms in front of her, sort of wiggling in a vaguely forward direction toward the medicine cabinet.

"You're, nngh, not out, nnnf, of, nnnf, shape, hnngh, you're just, haaaaa, having, fffffft, a, hhhhh, reaction. Everybody, nnngh, does this, hhhhfffff, the first time, heeesh, the first time they... oh thank you finally, the first time they see it."

Now she has to drag herself into a sitting position so she can fumble around for the tape. The ideal thing would be to apply a clear coat to the damaged areas first, but a woman who doesn't even understand the basic tenets of fashion is sure to ignore the medicinal powers of nail polish. It's fine. What she really needs is pressure, and to make the sight of the thing go away.

"I don't know though. About instincts, I mean. I couldn't tell you... when I'm panicking over nothing versus when it's. You know. Real. But... oh!"

She smiles brightly as she looks up from her tape job. The offending area is gone, replaced with a makeshift ballet slipper in white skin safe tape. She pulls off her other shoe just to check, and clicks her tongue. She pulls her arm back from the drawer and starts measuring out more of the stuff.

"One time I was getting a sandwich, right? And an old lady got in line behind me and I just... I kicked. At full force. And then I tried to rear, even though obviously I am already standing upright. So I just bolted. I ran for so long. And this was... prior to meeting you, so it was. Quiet. Everything I saw, I thought was her ghost. And then I noticed... my leg was covered in orange juice. I hit her groceries. I've never been back to that shop since."

Two feet wrapped now. Problem all gone! Madeleine drags herself onto her feet and instantly falls forward onto her face.

"But I don't have those episodes anymore. Not since we became... partners. When I feel a shadow now, I meditate. I picture running. With... er. Yeah. This is the first..."

She wiggles her feet. One more time she makes the push and this time it sticks. Her steps are wobbly but her feet actually hold her weight. She shrugs.

"Hmm. I guess I can't banish them all. But! Like I said... this is very normal. By the morning you won't notice. What about you? Are you stable? Can you breathe? Let me get your leg back on so we can train."

Aristeia! Building a Champion

"...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?"

Aristeia! Building a Champion

"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."

Aristeia! Building a Champion

"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?"