All at once, Rhiannon seemed to have detached from the conversation. Though the prospect of potential information was like a beacon of hope, or at the very least, as source of intrigue to most all of her companions, the witch could be found staring vapidly ahead, her eyes glassy and expression vague, utterly indifferent to the notion of libraries and fussy sours.

She said, with intense distaste.


She turned her back in a huff and tromped over to the feet of the giant.

“Oi!” she said “Let’s get out of here.”

She grabbed onto the rope of flags and began to clamber back up to the collar of the giant’s coat.

“So,” she called down brusquely to the recently healed man, “I guess you don’t need any more help."

Daniel watched as a bit more banter passed between the crew of adventurers. He took a moment to recollect himself before bravely walking back to his griffon. Having just recovered from a horrible accident while riding it, "Let's be careful, huh Alex?" He said lowly before climbing on.

"Ha!" He said with a whip of the griffon's reigns to let him know it was time to go airborne. It was around that point when the horned female of the party addressed him. He hovered there long enough to respond with, "No, I suppose not. Thanks for the concern." before he took off toward the town in search of knowledge.

“Hey, heeeey,” the imp protested, suddenly belligerent, “get off him!"

As the fairy settled on his horn, the imp clambered awkwardly around to shoo her.

“I don’t care if you are some kind of—of which!” she said, “he’s mine!"

“Who are you calling handsome, anyway?” she added vehemently, “this big lug’s face would melt the trees off a mountain!”

The giant blinked. The imp hugged his ear possessively.

The imp looked at her.


“I know that,” she said, “how do you know that?"

"So you're a Sour, and this fairy is an expert on Sours," Winn interjected uselessly as he walked, purely incendiary motives delivered under the feigned guise of ignorance.

“Will you stop it?” she snapped down at the boy from her position in the air.

“You can’t possibly be as stupid as you look!”

She disappeared over the top of the monster’s collar suddenly and climbed around to the other side, where there could be heard a rustling, creaking sound. The only person in a position to see what she was doing was the fairy—who could observe from her position the imp attempting to open one of the enormous chests in the rack attached to the giant’s back.

“Perhaps—“ said the imp, “he has a wish—“ she seized a small book from one of the chests, “perhaps he has a getting-hit-in-the-head wish.”

She punctuated the word ‘hit’ by whipping the book Winn's head with poor grace, but excellent aim.

The book was small and wrapped tightly in an oilskin, which came unravelled where the book landed. The cover of the book underneath was a deep plum red, and had an unreadable title, and a small silver crest on it which seemed reminiscent of a foxglove flower.

“I don’t care,” she added, directing her words at the ear of the creature she was writing on.

“Anyway,” she said to the fairy.

“You’re a fairy, huh? I guess that’s pretty cool,” she added, sullenly, as if it troubled her to admit it.

“I thought you were like,” she said, vaguely, “a tiny one of them.”

"Is it truly wise to, oh, how to put it... lead her on like this?" suddenly questioned the boy pilot from Winn's side. When he had actually started walking alongside the other adolescent would be up to question, but his neck was craning back to stare up at the white beast the demon girl currently sat perched upon.

"Her companion is an awfully large brute. One flick of a wrist and he could break every bone in your body. Not to mention he's carrying my aeroplane."

Before Winn could reply, the imp flopped back over the edge of the giant’s collar and stared down at the two.

“He can hear you, you know,” she said, “guys have good hearing.”

“Anyway,” she added, “he says that he doesn’t want to hurt you. He says for me to tell you that he'd only hurt you if I told him to, but even then,” she added, "I don’t think he’d listen to me, because he’s a big wuss.”

She punched her sunmate, the giant, in the cheek, with a tiny bap.

Winn had stayed quiet since the book was thrown at him. It wasn't so much that it was effective disciplinary action, but instead that the "bap" and the subsequent "ow" were followed up by a "hm" — which is to say he collected the item and started flipping through the pages with what was either interest or befuddlement.

"... This is your language?" Winn mumbled, probably not expecting an answer.