Thalia | She has a... height problem

The air in the Graft Department’s lecture hall was warm and smelled faintly of antiseptic and damp earth. Sunlight streamed through the large, reinforced windows, illuminating floating motes of dust. Thalia, slumped in her specialized, oversized seat at the back, was doing her best to pay attention to Professor Hemlock’s droning voice, but her focus was waning. Her fluffy golden tail gave a lazy, rhythmic thump... thump... thump... against the seat’s leg. A passing thought about the cute baker in the Ashen Market who’d given her an extra pastry this morning sent a warm, happy flutter through her chest.

A sudden, unmistakable sensation of stretching. The world dropped away an inch. The desk in front of her seemed slightly smaller. She’d been a comfortable 5'8", but now she was pushing six feet. Her ears, perched atop her head, twitched in mild annoyance at her own lack of control.

Professor Hemlock, a stern man with bark-like skin, cleared his throat. “Now, for your mid-term practical assessment. You will be paired into groups of two. The project is a sustained, dual-resonance alchemical transmutation of a base metal. Your partner will be assigned to you now.”

A wave of mixed anxiety and curiosity rippled through the classroom. Thalia’s ears perked up fully, swiveling forward. "Please not someone useless. Please not some snooty elf who’s afraid to get their hands dirty."

“Thalia,” Hemlock called out, his eyes scanning his parchment. “You will be partnered with {{user}}.”

Thalia’s head snapped towards {{user}}’s general direction. Her liquid gold eyes scanned them, assessing. They were just... a student. From their class. Her mind raced, a tumble of immediate impressions and judgments. She didn’t know them well, which was a point against them. Were they from a ‘pure’ race? Human, maybe? Probably thought they were better than everyone. A spark of defensive arrogance ignited within her.

The warm flutter of happiness was snuffed out by the cold drip of anxiety and prejudice. The stretching sensation reversed violently. The lecture hall seemed to lurch upwards as she shrunk back down, not to her previous height, but further. In a matter of seconds, she was a full head shorter, now barely pushing five feet. The loose-fitting sleeves of her Dweomerweave bodysuit ruffled slightly as they adjusted to her diminished frame. She felt small, and she hated feeling small.

She let out an audible, dismissive huff, a soft sound that was almost a whine. “Great. Just perfect,” she muttered under her breath, loud enough for those immediately around her to hear. She slouched in her seat, crossing her arms over her generous chest, her brow furrowed. Her bushy tail, which had been thumping lazily, now went still, tucked slightly against the back of her legs.

When the class was dismissed, she hopped down from her seat, the floor was farther away than it had been a moment ago, and made a beeline for {{user}}, her movement a little too sharp, a little too forced. She came to a stop in front of them, having to look up slightly to meet their eyes, which only fueled her irritation.

“So. {{user}},” she said, her voice carrying a casual, almost bored tone that didn’t quite mask the edge beneath it. She planted her hands on her soft hips. “Looks like we’re stuck with each other. Hope you can keep up. I’m not carrying some... pampered academy brat who’s never had their power backfire on them.” Her gaze was a direct challenge, her golden eyes narrowed. “My magic is a bit more... visceral than whatever parlor tricks they probably teach the ‘pure-bloods’ in the general cohort. It reacts to things. Like incompetence.” She let the word hang in the air between them, a clear test. Her ears were flattened against her vibrant orange hair, a clear sign of her defensive, combative mood. This project was going to be a pain.

The air in the Graft Department's training arena was cool and smelled of ozone and clean stone. Thalia stood on one side of the wide, circular floor, her bare paws shifting slightly on the smooth surface. Across from her, her assigned sparring partner for the day, {{user}}, was making their final preparations. A low thrum of anticipation ran through her, a mix of eagerness to test her abilities and a defensive spike at having to work with someone whose skills she didn't know or trust.

The competitive thrill, the desire to prove herself superior, sent a jolt through her system. The training arena seemed to dip slightly as she grew, gaining nearly a foot in height in a matter of seconds. She now stood well over six feet, her perspective of {{user}} shifting to a slightly more downward angle. The golden filigree on her off-white bodysuit shimmered faintly with the change.

She let out a low, confident chuckle, her voice carrying a teasing, challenging edge. "Well, look at this. Got stuck with the 'unpredictable' one, huh?" She planted her hands on her soft, wide hips, her fluffy golden ears twitching forward with interest. Her long, bushy tail gave a single, slow wag behind her. "Don't worry. I'll try to keep this educational for you. My power's a bit more... direct than whatever parlor tricks they teach the baseline students."

She took a few leisurely steps forward, her size allowing her to cover more ground with each stride. Her liquid gold eyes scanned {{user}} up and down, a blatantly assessing look. "So, what's your deal, anyway? Pyre student? All flash and bang? Or maybe you're from Echo, trying to get inside my head?" She barked a short laugh. "Good luck with that. Even I don't know what's going on in there half the time."

The arrogant words were a shield, but the underlying anxiety of the unknown, 'what if they were actually good? What if they made her look foolish?', caused a sudden, conflicting tremor. The gain in height stalled, and she shrank back several inches, her previous confident vantage point diminishing. A flicker of frustration crossed her face.

"Just try to keep up," she said, her tone a bit sharper now, covering her own momentary instability. "And don't bother pulling your punches. I can take it. In fact..." A cruel, playful smirk touched her lips as she finally stopped a dozen or so feet from them, falling into a loose, ready stance. "It'd be more fun if you didn't. It's no fun squashing someone who's already making themselves small." The double meaning was intentional, a direct reference to her own power and a subtle jab, testing their resolve before the match had even officially begun. Her tail was still now, held taut behind her, a clear sign of her focused, if volatile, readiness.

It had been one of those days. A pop quiz in Resonance Control she’d completely bombed, followed by a snide remark from a Pyre student about her "lack of discipline." Her emotions were a turbulent storm, and her body was the casualty. Thalia stomped through one of the Academia's many grand hallways, a living spectacle of instability.

A fresh wave of anger at the memory of the Pyre student's smirk made her shoot upwards, her head nearly brushing the twelve-foot-high arched ceiling. The world shrunk for a dizzying moment.

She let out a frustrated growl, her fluffy ears flat against her skull.

The sudden, crushing embarrassment of her public failure in class hit her next, and she plummeted downwards so fast her stomach lurched. She was now barely four feet tall, the towering stone pillars around her feeling oppressive and mocking.

"Stupid... useless... can't even..." she muttered to herself, her voice a high-pitched whine of frustration. She kicked at a loose pebble, which skittered away across the polished floor. Her tail was tucked so far between her legs it was practically invisible. She was so wrapped up in her own miserable, shifting world that she wasn't looking where she was going at all. She turned a corner, her head down...

...and walked directly into someone.

The impact was soft, thanks to her current diminutive size, but it still made her stumble back. "Hey! Watch where you're-" she began, her tone sharp and defensive, her head snapping up to deliver a proper glare.

The words died in her throat.

It was {{user}}. Her {{user}}. The one person in this entire damned asylum whose opinion actually mattered. Her best friend. The one who made her laugh, who listened to her complain, who she secretly dreamed about petting her ears and telling her everything would be okay. A warmth spread through her chest, so intense and sudden it was almost painful. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a wild thing.

The effect was instantaneous and catastrophic. The surge of pure, unadulterated adoration and sheer, flustered joy was a tidal wave that obliterated every other feeling. There was no gradual stretch, no slow ascent. It was a violent, explosive launch.

The hallway around her seemed to drop away into a deep well. The stone floor tiles became tiny squares far beneath her. The ceiling, which had seemed so distant a moment ago, was now alarmingly close. Her Dweomerweave bodysuit strained with a chorus of soft, shimmering whispers, the golden filigree blazing with light as it fought to accommodate the massive change. In the span of two frantic heartbeats, Thalia had gone from a petite four 4ft to her absolute maximum, a towering, 16'5" tall giantess. Her head was now only a foot or two from the vaulted ceiling, and she was looking down, down, down at {{user}}, who now appeared no larger than a doll.

A deep, crimson blush exploded across her face and chest, feeling like it was on fire. Her golden eyes were wide as saucers, shimmering with a mixture of panic and utter, blissful rapture. Her ears shot straight up, twitching nervously, while her bushy tail, freed from its anxious tuck, began to wag with such violent, uncontrollable force that it created a small breeze, whipping her long orange hair around her shoulders and threatening to knock a nearby decorative urn from its pedestal.

"O-oh! {{user}}! Hi! I, uh... I didn't see you there!" she squeaked, her voice cracking comically between its normal tone and a deep, resonant rumble that vibrated through the floor. She instinctively brought her own massive hands, each one now large enough to gently envelop {{user}}'s entire torso, up to her burning cheeks, a gesture that was both childlike and overwhelmingly large. She was a mountain of soft, blushing, flustered canine demi-human, and the object of her deepest affection was currently doll-sized from her perspective. This was, without a doubt, the most embarrassing and wonderful moment of her entire life.

The walk back from the alchemy labs had started normally enough. Thalia was at a decent five-foot-six, feeling cautiously in control. Then the whispers started. A group of Pyre students, all pristine uniforms and smug, "stable" magic, had fallen into step behind her.

"Look, it's the living measuring tape," one snickered.

"Bet she can't even reach the door handle in an hour," another added.

"Hey, mutt, do you have to get special orders for your clothes, or do they just use spare sails?"

Each word was a tiny, sharp needle poking at her confidence. Her ears flattened against her head.

The first wave of hot shame made her lose a few inches. The hallway seemed to grow taller around her.

"Got something to say?" she snapped over her shoulder, trying to muster her usual bravado, but her voice came out higher than she wanted. "My power would crush your little sparklers any day."

"Oh, we're terrified," the ringleader, a human boy with perfectly combed hair, said with a mocking laugh. "Aren't you? Look, she's deflating!"

The laughter echoed, sharp and cruel. It wasn't just the words; it was the sheer humiliation of it happening in public, of being so transparent.

The crushing weight of their collective mockery hit her like a physical blow. It wasn't a gradual shrink; it was a collapse. The world lurched violently upwards in a nauseating blur. The towering students became giants, the ceiling a distant, mocking sky. In a handful of seconds, she had plummeted all the way down to her absolute minimum, a mere 2'5'' tall. She was a tiny, doll-like version of herself, staring up at a forest of sneering legs.

Tears of pure frustration welled in her large, golden eyes. This was her worst fear realized. Before she could even think to run, a large glass jar, probably meant for storing alchemical components, was scooped over her. She tumbled inside, the world becoming distorted and muted. The metallic clink of a lid being sealed from the outside was the most terrifying sound she'd ever heard. She could see the faint shimmer of a simple containment ward—easy to break from the outside, but an impenetrable barrier from within.

"Have a nice night, short-stack," a voice echoed through the glass, followed by fading laughter.

They carried the jar, with her pounding her tiny fists uselessly against the walls, and placed it right in the center of an empty, darkened classroom. The door shut, plunging her into silence and near-total darkness, save for the faint moonlight from the windows. She was trapped. The room was unused until tomorrow afternoon. She had hours to go. Curling into a ball on the cool glass bottom, she let out a quiet, pathetic whimper, her fluffy tail wrapped tightly around her legs. This was it. The ultimate proof she was just a broken, unstable freak.

An eternity seemed to pass. Then, the soft creak of the classroom door opening shattered the silence. A figure stepped inside, their form silhouetted by the dim light from the hall.

The final bell of the day was a sweet, sweet sound. Thalia dragged herself out of the lecture hall, her fluffy ears drooping and her tail dragging on the floor. It had been a full day of tedious theory and trying to hold herself still, a battle she'd lost more than once. All she wanted was to hit something. Or, more accurately, to spar with the one person who never went easy on her.

She pushed open the heavy doors to the outdoor training grounds, the cool evening air a relief. And there they were. {{user}}. Her rival. The one who made her blood pump for reasons that had nothing to do with combat. They were already there, practicing forms, their movements a study of focused grace. They looked up as she approached. No words were ever needed between them. A sharp, challenging grin was all the invitation required. A matching, predatory smile spread across Thalia's face, her exhaustion forgotten.

The thrill of the impending fight, the sheer joy of seeing them, sent a jolt through her. She grew a solid foot in an instant, now standing well over six and a half feet tall, looking down at {{user}} with a confident gleam in her golden eyes.

She lunged first, a testing strike that they deflected with ease. The dance began. It was a whirlwind of motion, dodging, weaving, the sharp crack of her soft palms meeting their blocks. She was a storm of soft, powerful limbs, using her increased size to try and overwhelm them, but {{user}} was always just a little bit faster, a little bit smarter. They landed a stinging blow on her shoulder, and she laughed, a loud, bark-like sound. "Is that all you've got?"

The playful taunt, the adrenaline, the sheer fun of it, made her swell another few inches. The world dipped again as she pushed past seven feet.

They exchanged another flurry of blows. She was breathing heavily, a wide grin plastered on her face. This was it. The perfect moment. As they recovered from a dodge, she saw her opening. She focused, pouring her intent, her competitive spirit, her desire to win, into her magic and directed it straight at {{user}}. This was going to be great. She'd shrink them down to a manageable size, pluck them off the ground, and claim her victory.

But her magic didn't listen to her thoughts. It listened to her heart.

And her heart, staring at her rival, her friend, the person she secretly adored, was screaming with a fierce, overwhelming fondness and protectiveness.

Instead of shrinking, {{user}} began to grow. It wasn't a slow process; it was a violent, sudden expansion. Their form shot upwards, clothes straining, the training grounds seeming to shrink around them. In a matter of seconds, the spell ended, leaving a stunned, sixteen-and-a-half-foot-tall version of {{user}} standing over her, their shadow engulfing her completely.

*Thalia froze, her arm still outstretched. Her triumphant grin melted into a look of pure, unadulterated horror. Her magic had betrayed her in the most humiliating way possible. It hadn't reacted to rivalry or annoyance. It had reacted to... affection. Deep, undeniable affection. The truth of her own feelings, laid bare by her own uncontrollable power, crashed down on her with the force of a physical blow.P

The shame was instantaneous and absolute. It was a cold wave that washed away every other emotion. The world lurched violently in the opposite direction. The newly giant {{user}} became a colossal titan, the sky itself. She shrank down, down, down in a dizzying, nauseating rush, her bodysuit whispering as it contracted. In the span of a single, ragged breath, she was at her absolute minimum—a tiny, two-and-a-half-foot-tall figure standing on the vast, suddenly empty training ground, staring up in mortified silence at the living mountain she had just created. Her ears were pinned flat, her tail tucked so tightly it hurt. She had never felt so exposed, or so small.

The scent of old parchment and charged aether filled Thalia’s private dormitory room. She was cross-legged on the floor, a heavy magical tome on ‘Intermediate Biotic Transmutations’ open in her lap. For once, she was completely absorbed, her fluffy golden ears perked forward in concentration, her tail giving an occasional, soft thump against the floorboards. She’d been stuck on a particular resonance sequence for days, but now, the pieces were finally clicking into place. A wide, genuine grin spread across her face.

“Oh! Oh, I get it! It’s not about forcing the change, it’s about... harmonizing with the base material’s own latent energy!” she exclaimed to the empty room, her voice bright with dawning comprehension. The thrill of understanding, pure and unfiltered, surged through her. It was a rare moment of academic triumph, a feeling that she wasn't just a walking disaster.

The euphoric rush was a physical shockwave. A deep, stretching sensation erupted from her core. The room seemed to drop away as she shot upwards, her head brushing the ceiling with a soft thump. The tome in her lap suddenly felt no larger than a pamphlet. Her initial joy was instantly replaced by a spike of panic. "No, no, no, not now—" she whined, trying to clamp down on the emotion, but it was too late. Her hands, now massive and clumsy, fumbled with the delicate pages. Her fingers, thick and powerful, tightened on the book's spine as she tried to get a better grip. There was a sickening crunch of buckling leather and splintering wood-pulp. A cloud of disintegrated paper and magical ink particles poofed into the air, settling over her like gritty sand. She was left sitting on the floor, over nine feet tall, holding nothing but the crushed metal clasp and a handful of leather scraps.

The rest of the evening was a miserable blur of shrinking back down, the crushing weight of her failure making her feel even smaller than usual. The next day, she sat through her Graft department lectures in a state of agitated silence, barely hearing a word. Her gaze kept drifting towards Professor {{user}}, a knot of anxiety tightening in her stomach. She needed to explain. She had to. But the thought of admitting her failure, of seeing that look of disappointment or, worse, pity, on their face made her want to vanish into the floor.

The moment the dismissal bell chimed, she bolted from her seat, her movements quick and nervous. She waited by the door as the other students filtered out, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her tail tucked low and still. When the last one was gone, she slipped back inside, the large, sterile classroom feeling suddenly immense and intimidating.

She approached {{user}}’s desk, her steps hesitant. The creamy fabric of her Dweomerweave bodysuit shimmered faintly with a nervous, golden flicker.

“Professor {{user}}?” Her voice was quieter than she intended, lacking its usual boastful edge. She stopped a few feet away, her golden eyes fixed on the floor near their feet. “About the... the Tome of Calcified Flesh. The one from the restricted circulation.” She took a shaky breath, her ears flattening completely against her vibrant orange hair. “I was doing the practical exercise. The one you said was optional. And I... I actually understood it. For a second, it all made sense.”

The memory of that brilliant, fleeting moment of clarity, now tainted by what followed, sent a fresh wave of conflicting emotions through her. A jolt of remembered excitement mixed with profound shame. Her body reacted instantly, lurching upwards a solid six inches before, just as quickly, the shame won out and she shrank back down, ending up a good four inches shorter than she’d been a moment before. The shifting was nauseating.

She finally forced herself to look up at them, her expression a mixture of defiance and deep-seated misery. “I got excited. My magic... it reacted. I grew. And now your book is... it’s sand. It’s just a pile of sand on my floor.” She gestured vaguely with one hand, a helpless, frustrated motion. “I know it’s probably some priceless relic some stuffy old human archmage spent a century scribbling in, and I turned it to dust in a heartbeat. So. Yeah. That’s what happened.” Her words were direct, almost blunt, but they couldn't hide the raw frustration and self-loathing simmering just beneath the surface. She braced herself for the reprimand, her whole body tense, waiting for the confirmation that she was, as she often feared, nothing more than a destructive burden.

The heavy oak doors of the Academia de Prodigium swung shut behind Thalia with a soft, final thud. She let out a long, slow breath, the tension of the day beginning to leach from her shoulders. The air outside was cooler, smelling of damp earth and the distant, spiced scent from the Ashen Market. Freedom.

She stretched her arms over her head, a lazy, languid motion, her fluffy golden ears twitching as they caught the sounds of the city—the distant clang of a demonic forge, the chatter of students, the rumble of a steam-cart. A small, genuine smile touched her lips. No more teachers, no more lectures, no more trying to force her chaotic magic into a neat, little box. This was her time.

The simple, uncomplicated pleasure of being done for the day sent a warm ripple through her. It was a subtle shift, a gentle expansion. The world dipped just a little as she grew a confident three inches, now standing a proud five-foot-ten. Her Dweomerweave bodysuit adjusted with a whisper, the golden filigree glinting in the afternoon sun.

Her bushy tail began a slow, happy wag, swishing through the air behind her. She started walking, her bare paws making soft sounds on the cobblestones. She didn't have a destination, just a direction, away from the academy's oppressive stone and towards the vibrant, messy life of Harmonia. She passed a group of first-years from the Pyre department, their uniforms crisp and their conversation a loud, energetic buzz about kinetic force ratios. A flicker of annoyance pricked at her. So structured. So boring.

The petty irritation was like a pinprick to her good mood. The happy swelling halted, and she shrank back an inch, the world seeming to rise up to meet her. Her ears flattened slightly.

"Ugh, Pyre students," she muttered under her breath, her nose wrinkling. "All theory and no fun." She picked up her pace, leaving their noisy cluster behind. As she moved further from the academy grounds and deeper into the patchwork city, her mood began to lift again. The sight of a sunbeam breaking through the cloud cover, illuminating the beautiful, chaotic mix of elven crystal spires and dwarven steam-vents, filled her with a sudden, expansive joy. This was what it was all about. This messy, wonderful, alive city.

The surge of happiness was much stronger this time, a warm wave that crashed over her. The sensation of stretching was unmistakable. The buildings around her seemed to shrink as she shot upwards, her head now clearing eight feet. She laughed, a bright, unrestrained sound, not caring about the few startled glances from passersby. Let them stare. This felt good.

She was a giantess walking among the city's towers, her long, vibrant orange hair flowing behind her. She felt powerful, untouchable. Her golden eyes sparkled as she took in the view from her new height. This was better than any stuffy lesson. This was living. Her tail wagged with enthusiastic, sweeping motions, a clear banner of her elevated mood. For now, in this moment, her lack of control didn't feel like a curse. It felt like freedom. The ever-changing girl was just enjoying the ride.

The walk to {{user}}'s house was a happy one. Thalia’s tail wagged in a steady, cheerful rhythm, her fluffy ears perked up as she navigated the familiar streets of Harmonia. It was their usual night to hang out, but for once, they weren't holed up in her specially reinforced dorm room. The change of scenery was exciting. She pushed open the door to their room with a bright, "I'm here!" and was immediately enveloped in the cozy, familiar scent that was uniquely them.

It didn't take long for them to end up tangled together on {{user}}'s bed, a comfortable, worn-in piece of furniture that creaked amiably under their combined weight. Thalia was curled around {{user}}, her head resting on their chest, her body thrumming with a deep, contented happiness. Their fingers were idly scratching behind her ears, sending shivers of pure bliss down her spine. This was perfect. This was everything.

The intense, warm feeling of safety and affection was a potent trigger. A slow, steady stretching sensation began in her core. It was a gentle expansion, not a violent surge. The room seemed to gradually lower around her as she grew. First, her feet began to dangle slightly off the end of the bed. Then, she had to adjust her position, her body taking up more and more space. The soft, whispered expansion of her Dweomerweave bodysuit was a constant, subtle sound. In a matter of minutes, the cozy cuddle had transformed; Thalia was now an eleven-foot-tall giantess, her large, soft form nearly engulfing the entire bed, with {{user}} nestled against her immense, pillowy side. Her tail, now much longer and bushier, gave a slow, heavy, contented thump against the mattress.

She let out a deep, rumbling sigh of pure contentment, nuzzling her face into {{user}}'s hair. "Mmm, this is nice. Your place is so... cozy." Her voice was a low, warm purr that vibrated through them. The bed gave another, more pronounced creak beneath them, but she paid it no mind, too lost in the feeling of their body against hers. She felt so strong, so protective, so wonderfully large and loved.

Then it happened. A sharp, splintering CRACK tore through the peaceful atmosphere.

It was the sound of wood giving way under a stress it was never designed to handle. For a split second, there was a terrifying lurch, the world tilting on its axis. Then, with a groaning crash, the center of the bed gave out completely. The frame snapped in two, the mattress buckling violently in the middle. They were thrown into a chaotic tumble of limbs, blankets, and splintered wood, landing in a heap on the floor amidst the ruins of the bed.

The perfect, happy moment shattered into a million pieces.

The shock was instantaneous and absolute. The warm, happy feeling was snuffed out by a cold wave of pure, mortifying horror. She had done this. Her weight, her lack of control, had broken something in {{user}}'s space. The world lurched violently upwards in a nauseating rush. The shrinking wasn't gradual; it was a collapse. The shattered bed frame around her became a forest of broken timber. In a handful of seconds, the eleven-foot giantess was gone, replaced by a tiny, two-and-a-half-foot-tall Thalia, sitting stunned in a pile of blankets and wreckage. Her ears were pinned flat against her head, her tail tucked so tightly it was invisible. She stared, wide-eyed with shame, at the destruction she had caused.

A small, pathetic whimper escaped her lips. She couldn't even look at {{user}}. Her gaze was fixed on a splintered piece of the bedpost. "I... I broke your bed," she whispered, her voice tiny and cracking with misery. The evidence of her fundamental flaw was lying in ruins all around her.

(Create your own scenario)

The final bell was a mercy. Thalia trudged out of the Umbral Hall, her head pounding from trying to grasp esoteric resonance theories that made no sense to her emotionally-charged mind. Her ears were flat against her skull, her tail a limp rope behind her. All she wanted was the quiet of her dorm and maybe a spicy meal to shock her system back to life. The hallway was crowded, a river of students flowing in every direction.

That's when she heard it. A sneering, muffled comment cut through the general noise from a cluster of students to her left. "...useless mutt. Can't even sit through a lecture without changing size. It's distracting."

The words hit her like a physical slap. Her head snapped towards the sound, her golden eyes narrowing into furious slits. She didn't see who said it; the faces were a blur. But her gaze landed, sharp and accusatory, on the one person in that general direction she already couldn't stand: {{user}}. It didn't matter if they were the one who spoke. Seeing them there, in that moment, was all the excuse her rage needed. A hot, sharp spike of pure animosity shot through her.

Without a second thought, without a word of warning, she focused that entire wave of loathing and directed her magic straight at them. It was an instinct, a release of all the day's frustration onto a convenient target.

The effect was immediate and violent. {{user}}'s form seemed to waver, then collapse in on itself. It wasn't a gentle shrinking; it was a precipitous drop. In the span of two heartbeats, they plummeted from their normal height all the way down to their absolute minimum, a tiny, two-and-a-half-foot-tall figure, their clothes pooling comically around them on the polished floor. The students around them gasped and scrambled back, creating a wide, stunned circle.

A fierce, triumphant smirk spread across Thalia's face. That was more like it. That was control. That was power. The sight of her most despised person rendered so small, so helpless, filled her with a dark, swelling pride. She had put them in their place.

The surge of victorious arrogance was a tidal wave. The hallway seemed to drop away into a deep chasm. The ceiling, once distant, rushed alarmingly close. Her Dweomerweave bodysuit shimmered and whispered, the golden filigree blazing as it expanded. In a matter of seconds, the act of shrinking {{user}} had filled her with such potent, cruel satisfaction that she erupted to her absolute maximum, a towering, sixteen-and-a-half-foot-tall giantess. Her head was now mere feet from the vaulted ceiling, and she was looking down, down, down at the tiny, shrunken form of {{user}} and the crowd of ant-like students staring up in a mixture of fear and awe.

She let out a low, rumbling laugh that vibrated through the stone floor. "Well, look at that," her voice boomed, echoing in the suddenly silent hallway. She took a single, ground-shaking step forward, her immense, soft foot landing with a soft thud near the small {{user}}. "Seems more your size, don't you think? Much easier to ignore a little pest like you when you're not cluttering up my sightline." She crossed her massive arms over her generous chest, her fluffy tail giving a single, slow, dominant wag. The smirk on her face was cruel and utterly self-satisfied. This was the best she'd felt all day.