thechanged | let's break some shit | day 4 afternoon [open]

It's been days now since he found himself stranded here. In that span of time, Squawky Man has only managed to grow more frustrated, more irritated, and more desperate to get some kind of grip on the situation. He's been searching the house for anything that might be of help, but so far has turned up with nothing.

Enough was enough. If the obvious tactics weren't doing any good, he was going to have to resort to more drastic measures. He's only met one being so far who had any idea what was going on, and he intends to make use of that. He stands at the top of one of the larger staircases, hand resting on the banister near a large vase of flowers, and yells sharply toward the center of the room, "Mason!" And in a more level (though still quite irritated) tone of voice, "I have some questions that need answering. If you don't want to cooperate, then..." He lifts his hand to the side of the vase and gives it a quick shove over the railing. A few seconds later, it shatters against the floor of the hall. "Too bad about the interior decorating." He smirks. "Got it?"

Without waiting for an answer, he snatches up a nearby lamp and smashes it against the wall. He proceeds like this through the house, tearing down curtains, kicking aside any moveable objects at his feet, and leaving a trail of damaged furniture in his wake.

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Hearing footsteps sound behind him, he pauses in the middle of tearing down a painting and glances over his shoulder. He's not particularly impressed by the bird-girl, but she looks like she could get in his way if she wants to. That's inconvenient. It isn't a compelling reason for him to act more polite around her though.

"No, I hadn't really considered that," he replies, ripping the frame from the wall and stomping on it with a clawed foot.

Well, it was true.

She's not sure what kind of answer she expected there. Considering both his words and how much damage he has already caused, it's safe to say that this guy doesn't really care. She takes a deep breath to calm herself. It hasn't been long, but perhaps it's time to try a different strategy.

"What are you trying to achieve with this childish destruction?" she asks, her anger contained but still peeking through her voice.

In the meanwhile, Squawky Man's rampage continues, unfazed by the attempts to halt it. If all she's going to do is yell at him, there's no point in stopping to answer (or even face) her, so once the painting has been ripped to shreds he moves onto smashing the light fixture next to it. The only reply he offers is a shrug and "Who knows?" directed more at the wall than the girl.

She considers his answer, then nods as if he can see her. She was right: he doesn't care. Not only does he have no respect for their shared living space, as evidenced by the ruined furniture around them, but he has no respect for anyone else either. In turn, she has no patience for his nonsense.

"Then you have no right to continue," she says, shortly before hurling herself at him. If he won't respond to words, maybe he'll respond to force. She's loath to use it, but this destruction needs to stop.

That response causes him to glance over his shoulder again, eyebrows raised, just in time to see the girl lunging forward at him. Though his reflexes are fast, he's at enough of a disadvantage that he can't get out of her way before they connect, so instead he opts to whirl around and attempt to push her out of his way, both with his hands and his considerable wingspan.

He's irritated by the interruption, but he's not after a fight: he's got much more important things to do than stand around squabbling with wannabe heroes.

She's prepared for a retaliation from the moment she charges, but some part of her is still surprised by the push. It's not enough of a surprise to render her immobile, though it throws her balance off-kilter. The feathers suddenly in her face don't help. Despite the falling, she's able to determine where she is in relative space, and she reaches out to grab the other's arms, ready to dig into flesh with her claws for extra purchase. She's fully intent on taking this delinquent down with her.

He shrieks in pain as her claws take hold, redoubling his efforts to get away. His wings beat at full strength now, focused mainly on getting him off the ground and away from his attacker. This frees up his legs from the burden of holding him up, and with one clawed foot he lashes out toward her legs, aiming to knock her off balance and get her claws out of his flesh.

She's dragged upwards with him when he lifts off the ground, stopping her from tumbling. As soon as he kicks at her, though, she goes right back to tumbling. Her claws detach from his arms, and she hits the floor with a loud thud and a hit to the head. The pain is intense, and her vision is swimming. She considers lying there until it calms down, but something deep inside, perhaps her bestial instincts, tells her to get up and fight again.

Blocking out the pain, she rolls onto her back and launches herself back up. A fallen floor lamp to the side catches her attention. She grabs it and readies it as if she were wielding a staff. After a moment, she runs at the bird man again, this time swinging a metal lamp-turned-weapon and yelling some sort of infernal battle cry. If you were to ask her now, she wouldn't be able to tell you why she was fighting.

He has a head start on the other bird person, and he intends to use it. Pausing only a second to make sure his attacker has fallen behind, he takes to the air, rapidly gaining altitude. At this point he doesn't have a specific destination: his goal is to put as much distance between him and the girl as possible. When he's shook off his tail, he can get back to more important matters.

Leaping over toppled furniture, she chases after him with the floor lamp in hand. She soon realizes that he's gained too much ground and is flying too quickly for her to continue pursuing on foot. She begins to beat her wings, faster and faster, until her running turns to a speedy flight. The distance between them closes, and she gets near enough for one last move. With a stop mid-flight, she hurls the lamp in the other's direction. It shouldn't hurt him enough to incapacitate him, perhaps only enough to get him to reconsider his actions a bit, but that's only if it hits.

It hits squarely between the shoulders. He plunges several feet from the shock of the blow, fluttering wildly. A moment later he regains his balance and dives beneath a staircase out of range of his pursuer, but not before shooting her a very ugly glare.

She watches him disappear, without a word or a change in expression. Then, the weight of what she did hits her, and she breaks out into tears, letting herself fall to the floor. She hurt him. She shouldn't have, but the anger was so powerful, so consuming. It clouded her mind almost immediately, wresting control from her and pushing her to senseless acts of violence. There's no justification for it, she knows, and she's just glad he got away. The realization that she is capable of such monstrous behavior sickens her.

After a good while spent on the floor, she wipes her tears and slowly gets to her feet. There's work to be done here. Hoping that the bird man won't come back to wreak more destruction, she begins to clean up the mess he's made. She's in for a treat, because there's a lot of it.

let's break some shit | day 4 afternoon [open]

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