The witch blinked impassively, but otherwise did not respond immediately.

"What's your problem," said the imp, flatly—and surly to a tee—but still reserved after her peculiar episode.

"I said he'd probably tell you later—do you think you have a right to know what I tell him, anyway? Even if you are a h—a wh—a witch."

"My problem?" queried the girl, remarkably evenly. She blinked again, and seemed to actually consider it for a moment, her head falling to a cant, and knocking askew several locks of blond.

"I suppose, if I had to say, my problem would be that I don't tend to placate fussy children who go out of their way to be discourteous to me and my companion, when they are in fact, in want of my assistance."

The witch turned succinctly to the aforementioned company, looking no less than conversationally introspective, and asked, "So then, the short of it would be that I'm... too reasonable, would you say?"

All without the slightest trace of sarcasm; merely a piercingly unapologetic conviction.

Winn petrified himself to the spot, looking like his lips wanted to suck into his own mouth and vanish. Not quite scandalized, but more simply utterly hesitant to get involved, he seemed too vacant to respond for a second. Eventually, thoroughly intimidated by the silence of the moment, he vaguely shrug-nodded like the speed-bump he so had the potential and propensity to be.

"I don't need your assistance," said the imp, "okay?"

She was growing mildly irritated, but was still intensely relaxed compared to the levels of high drama her emotions had soared at before she had been struck by her emotional interlude.

"H—"

The witch interrupted.

To have assumed that such a long, exclusive interaction would go uninterrupted was to assume too much of the patience of one whose help was so vehemently unneeded.

Not a solid beat after that initial, "I don't need your assistance, okay?", the witch practically pounced on the opening such a statement offered.

"My misunderstanding," Rhiannon apologized briskly, with a tip of her hat, and the most shallow of curtsies. "Best of luck to both of you."

Whether she was heeded or talked over ultimately mattered little. Either way, the girl turned abruptly on her heel, swept swiftly past both Winn and the young pilot (who would hopefully recognize the cue to follow), and headed purposefully toward town, at a robust stride, blissfully ignorant of whatever ill-tempered ire she had likely invoked.

Just like that -- Just as soon as given the opportunity, she took her leave.

She stopped as the witch left.

She huffed, and looked back at her companion, who had closed his eyes and gently hung his head.

"She's got some nerve, huh?" she said.

He looked up at her. His eyes were difficult to read, but there seemed to be a haze of weary reproof clouding over his perpetually placid gaze.

Her brow flattened.

"No, I don't want her help," she said, crossly, "I don't care if she is a hag, she can't just... expect me to suck up to her like that!"

"No, I don't care. She might as well be a part of it, for all I know."

She softened a bit, and her back lost some of its ram-rod stiffness. For a moment, she looked slightly disconsolate.

"I guess..." she said, "but... that's almost worse, you know? What business does she have w—"

She glanced furtively back at the backs of the soon-to-be-departees, before continuing.

"Dzu aa'eh neiret nyen paa, uh?"

An emotion passed across her face, too quick to be identified but with an impression of faint worry or sadness, as if she was thinking about something that had happened a very long time ago. Her sunmate looked up at the sky, and began the process of moving several dozen tons of bone and muscle into an upright position.

As the rope of flags began to unspool from the ground and rise up with him, she grabbed onto them and was swung into the air. She hopped and skipped, and began to jog sideways, running around around the body of the giant a couple times as she began to climb, winding the rope up around him as she ascended. Eventually her orbit reached his neck, where she hopped into his collar, and sat at the upper back end like a saddle, perched behind his head.

She patted him on his wire-furred, white skull.

"Now," she said.

"I guess we're going to their stupid library."



He began to walk.

"Eh," she said, "Eh, dzo sa. Sa dzo hul. …nya ter'eh.Hey, you. Big guy. …Thanks."