There was an ear-splitting screech when she collided. Unable to pull up from the dive quickly enough, the bird at least managed to twist her body so she didn't smash into her face. Still, her ribcage didn't feel much more gentle. To be combined what that was a rush of burning pain filling her body from that damned light. Rolling off the overhang, she landed on the street in a crouch in front of the two. The crimson feathers atop her head were unfurled and thin lips pulled back to show yellowed fangs.

Eyes fixed on the girl first and narrowed. In a rough voice she chastised, "If you wish to keep your meal alive then keep it to yourself."

Shifting from one foot to the other, she flicked her gaze between the two before her. The male was clutching something in his hands that looked solid enough to hurt. The female was carrying...something that looked pathetic. Though the pain in her side made her wary. Feathers puffing up on her arm, she pulled herself up to her full height. It just put her over the male's head.

"If you won't let me have that meal then perhaps I should make one out of you."

Rhiannon neither flinched, nor backed down as the feathered figure landed before them; her parasol remained rigid in her hand, keeping a narrow distance between the two.

"Cross belongs in a cage or on a tether no more than you do, Harpy," the witch replied, firmly, but without malice. Her eyes, locked on the bird woman, were fiercely focused, but unnarrowed. Not a single line of effort or consternation marred her face, but she looked no less ready to act. She was dammed water; still and serene, but waiting to burst forth and destroy.

"That was a slap on the muzzle." She nodded implicitly toward the Siren's ribs. "I'll do significantly worse, if you don't stand down."

Even as he stood there, tense and on the verge of combat (Did he even know how to fight?), Winn found himself making mental notes that he'd write down later.

So, I met this girl in a marketplace. I believe her name is Rhiannon, though I haven't really asked yet. That's just what her potion cart says. Yeah, potion cart. She's most definitely a witch. Not the crooked-nosed hag kind of witch, mind you, but the potions-and-forcefields kind. She's a little strange, too. I suppose that's normal for a witch. I don't know. I think she may even be fairly powerful. This big, freaky harpy flew in out of nowhere and she didn't even flinch. If she isn't, she puts on a good bluff.

What's a harpy even doing out here, anyway? Is this normal? It doesn't seem too bright to threaten humans in a busy marketplace in broad daylight. Then again, I didn't even know harpies were smart enough to talk.

The boy gripped his crude makeshift weapon a little tighter. He tried not to act affected by how crappy it was.

Speaking of intelligence, I gotta work on my fabrication. I hope the-me-that-was-before-memory-loss wasn't always this awful at it.

She wasn't foolish enough to doubt that the girl was anything but serious. The stance she had showed that she wasn't flustered by any show of feathers and teeth. Bluffing was out of the question. The male however seemed less confident. Plus, he didn't seem to have much of a weapon. Staring down the girl, the siren clucked her tongue.

"You seem rather brave with that stick in your hand. I doubt you would be if it snapped. If anything you would be like a rat with gouged eyes; sniveling around trying to not become a meal."

She stared, unfazed, unmoving. Her eyebrows might have twitched ever so slightly, to the particularly observant, but otherwise, she simply waited, exhibiting not even boredom.

The stony silence was unnerving and the sirens brows knitted together. Whether or not this girl was simply bluffing was getting harder to tell by the moment. Though she was tempted to enter into a physical confrontation, she wasn't in the condition. Besides, it was most likely this girl would cheat with more...whatever that thing was.

Stiffening up, the protest from her shoulder was ignored, she folded her wings around her protectively.

"The next time I see that flying sack of fat alone it will be a meal.", she spat out bitterly, "Not caged? Fair game. I have no need to hurt you but just know that."

Though Winn had been quiet through all of the posturing and puffery, something in that last bit spoken struck a foul nerve. His lips curved downward, his eyebrows furrowed, and he immediately looked put out by the whole affair.

"You know, this is why things like you are considered subhuman!" he suddenly blurted, standing straight and indignantly clanking his would-be weapon upright against the hard ground like a walking staff. He had already said too much, but it was too late. It was time for an angry diatribe. "When we're hungry, we've already grown food to eat, or worked, so we can buy it, or something! When you're hungry, you— you try to eat people's pets!"

He clattered his metal pole again for emphasis, or maybe out of frustration. "That's just messed up. And you're just a big, squawking vulture." He then pointed it at the harpy. "You better get outta here before we deal with you the way monsters are meant to be dealt with!"

As it would turn out, I have a backbone! I could only hope in the moment that my powerful new acquaintance (of all of thirty seconds' familiarity) would find my praise of the goodness of human nature droll enough to back me up, and see to it my novel new spine stayed comfortably wrapped in flesh, and not, say, chewed upon by some be-taloned lesser monster.

She remained quiet throughout Winn's tirade, simply watching him with wary eyes. When the last word was spoken she started to make her way towards him. Stopping only a few feet from him, she gave a sneer.

"Subhuman? Are you saying I am below a human?", she asked in her rough voice, "I eat when hungry, same as you. So you have never dug your teeth into meat? Never tasted flesh? Though you may not have killed it, another one had so you may eat. I simply do the deed myself."

Moving closer to the boy, she leaned forward till she could almost see her reflection in his eyes.

"I kill to eat. I hunger so I tried to eat that bird. Would you do different if you saw fresh food to fill your stomach? Or would you rely on another to slaughter it? Like little chicks crying for mother. That is how you humans are. Also, vultures eat remains. I eat when blood is still flowing. When the heart is beating and trying to escape."

Giving a grin, she once more showed off her teeth.

"How you are right now is how meat tastes best."

Not one to suffer an invasion of personal space from any creepy creatures, Winn flinched and, without warning, swung for the fences with his pole as soon as the harpy drew near enough to spook him.

He wasn't all that strong, nor was he a baseball star, but a nearly-two-inch-thick, four-foot-long rod of solid steel could punctuate the closing line of almost any argument. He was aiming to nail her right across the head with his rebuttal.

Once he noticed that he was being followed - and really, that wasn't hard when you're getting chased down by a land whale and the little girl riding it, assassin guy or not - Phantom stopped, perched on a roof that gave him just a little bit of height over the duo. Enough to make him comfortable.

"Ah, did I misunderstand your intentions? It sounded like your friend there wasn't happy with me." Phantom spoke casually, even though he was rather perturbed by the idea of getting close to that thing's mouth again. Ever.

It was difficult to tell what Rhiannon made of the situation, but this much was clear: She was entirely unthreatened by so-called sub-human, and her attempts to save face. Ultimately, it all resulted in little more than a negligibly small upward shift in her brows over the sorceress' unwavering gaze. The parasol's maw shut abruptly, seemingly of its own accord, and it began to lower... until, much to her surprise, a third, previously silent voice, erupted indignantly into the conversation.

The smallest of smiles crept back onto Rhiannon's otherwise steely countenance throughout Winn's diatribe, yet quickly ebbed as of the rebuttal. With a swiftness and urgency that somehow still managed to convey grace, the witch swept into the brazen youth's flank, simultaneous to that first, likely incendiary swing.

The white whale stopped underneath him and looked up. The girl had tucked herself into the monster's collar for the trip, and took this opportunity to extract herself again. She stood on his shoulder, hands on hips.

“No,” she said, condescendingly, “it wasn’t that, you ninny, he—“

She stopped. She looked down at the mountain. The mountain stared impassively back.

She looked embarrassed.

“Noooo,” she said.

“Uggghhhghgh, this is stupid!”

Then:

“Fine.”

She squared up to look at the Phantom, standing on the roof.

“He said...” she took a deep breath, “he said—“

She rolled her eyes and groaned. She flapped her arms at her sides.

“Ugh, he saaaid, ‘sorry, girls are angry.’”

Her face crumpled into a gigantic sulky pout. She scowled at the floor—or in her case, the fur.

“He means me. Us. Sau girls,” she said, “the big fat pile of blubber means that we’re pretty much angry all the time. Which isn’t true,” she added hotly, “we’re not. I’m angry at you, though,” she added, looking back up at the Phantom, and then: “I’ll rip your kneecaps off.”

She apparently mentioned this act of violence only as a point of conversation, as she made absolutely no motion to suggest she was about to try doing anything of the sort. She just crossed her arms over her chest and glared up at dark-clad figure, as if defying him to comment on the matter.

“Anyway,” she said, before the Phantom could reply, “it doesn’t matter what I think because this cube of lard wants to talk to you, so I guess I have to just put up with you until he’s done.”

“He wants to know if he can take a look at the scroll that says you’re a building inspector.”

“Oh,” she went on, bitterly, “and apparently we can show you all our paper stuff too if you like. That’s just fine,” she added to the creature beneath, “I guess I don’t get to decide, huh?"

She ducked down quickly enough that the swing simply ruffled the feathers atop her head. The attack however made her blood boil; she wasn't going to let it go easily. Letting out a deafening screech she lunged at him, the talons on her feet stretched out to grab at him. Her wings beat at the air, raising up dust from the ground.

Rather than flesh, the creatures talons would grasp fire. Unnaturally green, and more substantial -- more viscous that its more commonplace counterpart, yet burning all the same, Rhiannon's lashed from her open hand like an ephemeral whip, clinging to whatever it touched, searing and stinging. She moved wordlessly between Winn and his adversary, following up with another snapping gesture of her free arm that spewed a torrent of flames, which spattered indiscriminately. Some aimless flashes alighted on the ground, fizzling out into harmless wisps of smoke, while others blew onto wooden awnings of the mostly stone buildings; still others fell on Rhiannon, herself, singing bits of her clothing.

And yet despite his proximity to the firefight, Winn would find himself curiously and completely impervious to the flames, for whatever reason; were he to touch them, he'd feel no more than a slight tingling sensation. The same, however, could not be said for the Siren, the witch, or their immediate vicinity. It was clear that the confrontation couldn't go on much longer without severe consequences.

Sent tumbling aside in the sudden chaos, Winn seemed to move like a rubber ball, simultaneously too tense to keep balance, and too spooked to stay down. He hit the ground on his side with a shout and was up in the blink of an eye, scurrying aside through the mysterious burning substance.

He innately knew better than to try to run away. The attacker had wings, and his only (apparent) ally was nearby enough to help. He didn't quite know what to do, though, and so stood there with his sloppy weapon with a dumb and shocked look for a couple seconds while he watched magical combat unfold.