*shrieks bloody murder, twisting in on herself as she hits the pavement and skids ungracefully to a halt*
*springs up to a crouch, hissing like the demon she is—and it occurs to her that she knows the Song whipping all around; she's avoided its cloudy snares before (sucking at her wings, dragging at her eyelids, wheeling her off-course at every turn)*
*warily, already edging away (she's been warned against tangling with anyone else)* Fuck off, Birdsinger, I'm leaving already.