Phoe

Aristeia! Building a Champion

"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.

Aristeia! Building a Champion

"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."

Aristeia! Building a Champion

"Does it matter?"

And the answer, of course, was yes. It mattered quite a lot. Because no: she was not ready at all. Call it beginner's luck, call it a difficulty ramp, call it unreasonable torture, but Madeleine does not so much as sniff the scoring zone in the next four attempts.

The first was also the most promising. She'd pushed her running form further, using the extra power she understood was on tap now to let her get away with a truly ridiculous form. Hunched forward lean and low, she moved by pulling her legs forward into her chest and then kicking back into the floor. It gave her back her arms and turned her entire body into a vehicle for raw speed and power until she transcended the form of the motorcycle into almost the pure perfection of the horse... but then she twitched. Machia hadn't even hit her with anything extra yet, it was a simple mistake and her form required perfection. A tangle of limbs slipped and hit the ground so hard she skipped. Three times, into a wall.

The second time she didn't trust herself like that again. That was a different kind of mistake. It was only the focus on running that was giving her so much control to begin with, so when she put her focus on going slower so she didn't hit herself again she flipped right back around to feeling sick and twitchy. She tried to walk around and slip into a clever dive, but what she did instead was lurch and stumble backwards as much as forwards, like one of those 'drunken fist' street performers you sometimes saw at malls next to the guy with the saxophone or guitar, except there was no secret grace to it. Her body convulsed as soon as Machia hit her with a fresh dose of gel and in the sudden spike of ferocity she got her nose smashed in by a staff. Mess had been very politely aiming for her shoulder, but her stupid face had other plans.

She needed a minute to stop dripping blood before attempt number three.

Wasn't a whole lot of point to that, though. The blood stayed with her anyway. Learning, learning, she was always trying to be learning. Holding it back was impossible, so what if she leaned back into it instead? Only this time instead of trying to be perfect she'd do the easier thing and attempt to disrupt the Placer pattern. She tracked Machia first and foremost, even managing a smile when she saw the way she insisted on walking. Anticipate it. Anticipate it. She wanted to at least use the power spike this time, so she planted her foot and wound up putting it right through the floor. She felt her vision go red, and for four impossible seconds she had no idea where she was. She came to on top of Stripes, with his arm in her mouth.

"Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry..."

She dipped her head between each beat. Dakinis are really weird about violence sometimes. Sometimes you could forget they were a machine intelligence with the constant bro routine. But then they'd do something like shrug off a moment of ultraviolence where all of their limbs came off because they still attached perfectly again and then Madeleine was forced to reckon with the fact that they had an entirely different set of priorities than she did. Creepy. She wanted to go home.

But she has another round to try. She'd made a bunch of different kinds of mistakes at this point, so if she's worth anything as an A! player then now is the time to put those together into something resembling the mysterious grace she's supposedly capable of. So back to basics; she'd do what she did best and focus on running. Aggressive form but controllable lines, and a single sharp boost forward to close. It really should be simplicity. Even though her nose aches and her mouth is radiating pain, if she can at least control this next burst to show promise, she...

She breathes.

Her back flickers. Like it's growing spikes. Like it's growing wings. She pushes off, she runs, perfect planning, perfect aggression, the very best she's capable of.

The lights start to flash.

Madeleine Cross has no face. There's a distorted black shroud where features should be, fluttering faintly in a nonexistent breeze.

Darkness swallows the room.

Then light.

The two fight, rapid bursts of blindness in two fun flavors.

She is... floating? Arms and legs bent at impossible, broken angles. Dangling as if from the ceiling like a doll on a string. She moans. Her hair pulses as though it were breathing.

And then the lights come back on, and Madeleine is simply writhing on the floor while she gasps for air. Her face normal, her body normal, everything reduced to a trick or the light. A strange power surge on the grid and nothing more. If she didn't look so pale it'd be like nothing was even the matter.

"I'm... fine..." she heaves, willing herself to flip over off of her back to try and push back onto her feet (she falls, and cracks her head), "I'm fine. Fine. Please... let me... try again. Everything is... I just, I just need... water. That's, that's, that's a-all."

Aristeia! Building a Champion

"A vehicle? But... motorcycles don't make me need to puke."

Air iiiiinnnnnnn........

Oooouuuuuuuuuut.

Ok. Ok. Standing here this isn't so bad. The problem is -want want want want want want want want want want want wantwantwantwantwantwantwantwantwantwantGO!

Madeleine is off, and nothing matters anymore. If this is a vehicle then she's accidentally revved the throttle and now everything is about holding on. The rush is extreme, nothing but motion sickness, but if she just focuses on her legs she can at least move in a vaguely forward direction. This feels all kinds of wrong. So slow. Especially for how much energy her body is burning. Is she just plain running wrong?

Maybe a flatter footfall, with a shorter stride? One. Two. One. Two. One two one two one two. She bumps into a shelf and knocks off a plate with a faded blue flower pattern but she's falling into the rhythm and now it almost feels like she's hovering. The jolt of impact on the floor is absorbed entirely by her shoes and now she can be a bullet aimed at the (give it to me give it to me giveittomegivegivegive).

The. Uh. Scoring zone. Her head is full of lightning. Something is trying to claw its way out of her her skull. She narrows her eyes and squeezes her face tighter and it briefly ebbs into the flow of her feet and her arms before suddenly spiking out of her back, instead. The lights in the room flicker. Just once. Only briefly. It could be mistaken for a blink.

Synskin is such an annoying invention. Madeleine has never agreed with it about what would be a debilitating blow, and having it on feels less like protection and more like a handshake that she will respect the presence of weapons and not always just run right through them. But even though she's in the outer circle she's just so much faster than these two... helpful gentlemen and it's annoying it's annoying it's annoying needing to find an opening in their pattern.

So she doesn't.

Madeleine darts forward as directly as she can manage. She leans forward, putting her center of gravity as low to the ground as she can manage while still being able to run. Arms held tight together, no longer contributing to balance control, she flies through the room with a constant left-right-left pattern like some sort of particularly shadowy snake. Slipping under one staff and taking the other as a clip on the shoulder, she--

Feels her sneaker slide out from underneath her.

Tumbles forward head over feet over head.

Lands face first with her limbs bunched up behind her, butt and tail thrust into the air in the most undignified position possible.

A vase shatters on top of her. Her ears flinch at the noise.

In. Out.

Her face is inside the paint.

"I win." she mumbles into the floor.

Aristeia! Building a Champion

Heartbeat, heartbeat.

The feeling of being sick. Misalignment. She lifts her arm to touch her cheek, and then she lifts her arm to touch her cheek, and then she lifts her arm to touch her cheek. And then the shadow of her arm reaches up and touches her cheek. Her skin feels rough. Slick. Smooth. Oily. She lifts her arm to touch her cheek. Her jaw hurts.

Heartbeat, heartbeat.

When did this even happen to her? How had she missed it? All that time being obsessed with the moment of injection, the lethal sharpness of the needle, and somehow it went into her skin and back again while... what? She was daydreaming? Titanomachia was a witch, she just didn't let on. There wasn't another explanation.

Heartbeat, heartbeat.

This is indistinguishable from being possessed. Something has crawled inside her body and it is fighting her for control of it. The brights are too bright. The darks are too dark. Everything, everything, everything all around her is exactly the same as glass. She is going to throw up. She had better not. But she needs it. She refuses. She--

Heartbeat, heartbeat.

Even now, she can't stop watching Machia. Perched up there, not even looking at her, eyes attempting to pierce the unknowable future. Madeleine clenches her teeth. She can hear the clack, but then a grind. It has to be her imagination that she can smell something like smoke, right? Something white hot lances through her cheek and she can hear a crack. She spits. Red and white. Foam. Every joint she moves is popping, every muscle in her body is twitching. Something is trying to burst out of her back, she is convinced.

Heartbreak, heartbreak.

The room is filled with the sound of shattering china. Most of a shelf is overturned and tumbling on top of Stripes, who is upside down and half a room away from her. Madeleine looks up at Machia again, and she is farther away as well. When did? How did? Her jaw is clenched tight again, and a tear is welling in her eye.

"Ghnnnn!"

Heartbreak, heartbreak.

Her feet dig into the floor. This time she means to feel herself running. She feels her head hit the ceiling, instead. Everything is wrong. All of it. What had she done?

Aristeia! Building a Champion

"Huh. How strangely responsible of her. It's... less that I am confused about the point of this training exercise and more that I'm assuming I will. Er... I'm sorry?"

Madeleine turns away from the Dakinis so she can stare at Machia for a moment in complete bewilderment. This is the part of the performance where she was supposed to hear some horrible new detail about what she was meant to be doing. Possibly a failure state so onerous it would have her on edge for the rest of the day, or else she'd learn that these two particular Dakini drones had consented to being modified with, who even knows really, acid spraying nozzles? The sort that dissolves clothing and leaves skin largely unblemished, naturally. That felt like the more typical pattern.

But instead of that, this. It's like having the needle pressed into the back of her neck again, except it's sticking out of a gun. And the gun is covered with colorful stickers of kittens. The intensity of it is so absurd it snaps right back around to being ridiculous, even if it's the most danger she's been in.

She raises an eyebrow.

"Machia, when would I have found time to watch an, uh... ani, ani...may? No wait I know I've heard that term before but... ah, oh! Animation. Sorry. Like I was... trying to explain, I don't watch, uh, anything. Honestly, not even a particularly large amount of Aristeia!, because it looks so unsatisfying on my phone. I'm surprised you think this is a problem. Shouldn't I be focused on training or resting? Music is for both of those things."

There's an unpleasant lurch in the pit of her stomach for some reason, but she just shrugs. She's helpless. Nothing can happen until the needle goes in, but it's sitting there. In that doofus' hand. She reaches for it, but only takes a hold of Machia's wrist.

"...Are you feeling unwell? I can take you back home if you need it."

Aristeia! Building a Champion

"Uh... yo," says Madeleine with a wave, "I am apparently a magical girl? I guess that is what's happening."

The thing that made the Dakini easier to deal with than people was that she was allowed to be awkward around them. People tended to find her pauses annoying, and with her voice being on the deeper side it often gave the impression she was perpetually out of breath, so even the sympathetic were annoying about it. The most common response to a greeting or a food order was 'uh, you ok?'

She hated it. Hated the back and forth, hated the tiresome routines, hated having to build herself up for the most basic interactions that they all navigated with such obvious ease. It was deeply unfortunate that the only person she could have a real conversation with was also the most annoying woman in the world. She wasn't sure what that said about Madeleine herself. But happily none of that was relevant here!

Dakini always rolled with it. With her, that is. Not exactly fulfilling conversation, these were not her friends (she didn't have those), but as far as interactions went, this was... pleasant? She tended to say more around them.

"I don't have any idea what that is. It feels like an insult? But I can't tell. There's a trap there. There's a trap here too. I have... no idea what's about to happen to me, so. Sorry in advance. Er. Oh. How much of this... am I allowed to break before I fail? And who is... paying for it?"

Aristeia! Building a Champion

"Ah..."

The needle is pressing into her neck, the insistent prickle of danger like a dagger. The threat of violence. The threat of death. The sensation almost tickles, almost stings, definitely had her heart racing, racing, racing...

But she is still. Or... no, not still. Her legs carry her forward but the motion doesn't seem to reach above her hips. Her stride is so perfectly in sync with Machia's that from the needle's perspective she is in exactly the same spot at all times. She does not dare to bend or turn her neck, but her eyes swivel to bore holes in her partner.

There is something gnawing on the inside of her chest, and she has no idea if it's an evil spirit or a feeling that she has. Those words are echoing around inside her head, seeking purchase but only bouncing around and making themselves heard via reverberation. She wants to smile, wants to sneer, wants to surge forward so she can spin around and walk away.

"You have the strangest concept of privacy I have ever heard of."

She walks on without another word. Less a pet and more of a hostage, today. Another fun headline to have to pick through later. But she says nothing and looks only forward, relying on her ears to tell her when she needs to turn or when she needs to wait. The feeling in her chest is so painful she wants to claw at it, but she does not.

To training, then. To training. The dream will die the instant she steps into the Hex, but it'll die another day sooner if she doesn't make the effort. She promised, after all.

Aristeia! Building a Champion

"I don't... like this." says Madeleine, hand closing on empty space where a syringe used to be.

She stares at the disconcerting object now twirling in Machia's fingers. Even now that little smile hasn't quite left her lips, though her eyes look sharper. More aware of the potential for danger. She traces a finger around the lid of her sixth coffee cup (the one that is supposedly full of espresso shots) and the look of amusement changes over to a conflicted brow furrowing. She is clearly deep in thought.

Her eyes flick back and forth between the coffee and the syringe. Coffee. Syringe. Coffee. Syringe. Syringe. Coffee. Is she, is she, is Madeleine Cross afraid of having too much caffeine for a day? She snatches the cup off the table as she stands up to clear the plates. She takes a defiant sip as she fishes out Machia's keys and throws them at her. And she sighs.

"I don't like this," she says again, "I don't like this. I do not."

Walking down the street, she fights to match Machia's pace exactly. Do not let her spin around and talk while walking backwards. Do not let her surge ahead and force Madeleine to follow her. Do not allow her to slip far in the back and march Madeleine forward like an owner walking a pet.

Equals. Partners. Sports enthusiasts, maybe. That's what she wants people to see. She should have taken the time to put her earrings on after all - her ears flutter in bewilderment and it's ruining her attempts at straight-postured poise and shadowy grace.

"I'll tell you why. Because when you mentioned... Xoxic, I nodded. I nodded! I felt sympathy for your position, like you were right! What is... ha! Can you even imagine? As if your constant tinkering with my body was somehow meaningfully distinct from hers. Just at the beginning of this week I was ready to go and work with her. Now I'm nodding along, grateful to have dodged her attentions? I haven't trained with a single actual athlete even once yet! All I do is follow you around and try not to die! And that's the better option to... me?"

Madeleine drains her entire cup in a single motion and deposits the container in a recycling station without breaking stride. The problem with ordering so much at once is that getting to it while it was all still drinkably hot meant she couldn't afford to savor any of it. But she was still glad she did it. She needed it to be strong, after last night.

Her tail has started twitching behind her. Her left ear flicks in the opposite direction every time it moves, sort of a connected response. She squeezes her temple.

"Do you realize that before I met you, I was considered poised and controlled? People said I was mysterious. Or my mother did, at any rate. I don't... like people all that much. The point is, I was quiet. My life was... quiet. And now I'm walking down the street with a charlatan, actually looking forward to the prospect of fighting drones in a room full of delicate works of art that I cannot afford to replace, You are corrupting me somehow. Is it mind control? Something more sinister? Did you used to do this sort of thing to Miss Lios, when you worked with her?"

Aristeia! Building a Champion

"Do you know how they decaffeinate coffee beans? Paint thinner. I would sooner you inject me with actual poison than imply that switching to decaf was ever an option."

There is a tiny smile stuck on her face that no amount of coffee pretension can wipe away. Lift her nose in the air though she may, her traitor tail is flicking behind her and that queer look just will not leave her eyes. She picks up one of her cups and takes a long and happy sip.

"Besides which, you are making a huge deal out of nothing. Not only is six cups a perfectly safe amount, these aren't even all coffee."

She takes another long sip and sets the cup to the side with an empty clunk. It sits next to three of its fallen sisters. Without hesitation she picks up another, pulls off the lid, and takes a deep sniff of the black liquid inside.

"This one is americano!" she smiles brightly as she points at the cup, "And the final one is straight espresso. Completely different drinking experiences. So as you can see, there is nothing to be concerned about."

Her foot has started tapping on the floor. Faster, faster, faster. Her smile widens before her next sip.

"When we do go to my apartment, I can show you a more... proper technique. I've always thought this company offered fair value for what they charge, but it's no comparison to what love can accomplish."