Mibbet and the others stood ready for trouble, but quickly noticed that the trio of witches did not seem to wish anybody any harm. After ten minutes of observing them taking notes and bickering Mibbet figured the greatest danger you were in with this lot is if they fell on you. Which in all fairness between all that metal, the weight of a plummeting human, and a dart sharp hat point capable of burrowing the bearer almost half a foot into the loam was likely a serious threat.

Mibbet let them go on fiddling about for a further five minutes, before giving the most officious sounding cough she could muster to get their attention.

“Ladies you will be pleased to know your companion was unharmed by her recent plummet, she’s inside with a cup of tea and her cat.”

This seemed to amuse the remaining three witches immensely judging by the cackling cacophony that followed her statement. “You think that Hagatha would be hurt by a little spill like that? It isn’t like she got a R.E.B.A.D or something, she’s tougher than that. Now this broom? Took us weeks to throw her together so if you don’t mind we’ll see to that, name’s Krystal by the way.” She offered a very greasy looking hand to shake. Though how the hell she got grease from a broomstick was rather a mystery. brooms barely have any bits but bunches of bloody bristles.

Mibbet was fairly sure, in fact she was absolutely positive she would regret asking, but against her better judgement she did it anyway. “R.E.B.A.D?”

“Rear Ended By A Dragon.”

She could see why a R.E.B.A.D could be Real Bad after that, and winced accordingly. Dragons plus flammable transport were a bad combination. “I guess after hearing that I can understand why all the metal bits”

“Yups Dragons don’t eat two broomstick riders. We make damn sure we’re worse going out than we are going in.” This brought another round of cackles from the group.

“Surely with magic it would be easier to just cast spells on the way down?” Elvira suggested, to the immense amusement of the gang.

“They breathe fire kid, meaning they must be using magic, and since most of em lack hands that means they use the magic within themselves. Meaning if they didn’t have a certain degree of high powered magic resistance on their guts then they’d paint the scenery every time they farted, and hiccups? Don’t bear thinking about. Using magic inside a dragon is like lighting a candle to see better in hellfire. It might work in theory, but the difference it makes is kinda pointless.”

“Fair enough” Elvira replied, stealthily slipping googly eyes onto the downed broom.

“OK while you’re here mind introducing yourself? Then I’ll be happy to give you a detailed description of the crash scene how’s that sound?” Mibbet asked.

It seems the way to a broomstick obsessed witches heart is in amusing anecdotes about an accident. (Bet that was a phrase you never expected to hear huh?) As they gathered round, and after examining her for a minute each offered a greasy hand to shake.

“Name’s Wormwood,” the first witch said bashfully. She seemed somewhat out of place in the group with the exception of the jacket and piercings, as everything else was delicately adorned with flowers, and she looked kind of like she should really not be operating any kind of flight equipment really, as if there were any faeries around here she was clearly away with them. Her heavy metal plated boots were covered in glitter, and dyed purple.

“I’m Hestia” grumped the second. “I make sure we eat on the road, and do all the metalwork on the brooms.”

This confused Mibbet a bit. “The use of metal is definitely... unorthodox?” She tried.

“YOU GET IT” Hestia raved “it makes it so much harder to get the broom off the ground, but enables fitting so many mods you wouldn’t believe. Did you know that by using a simple fire gem in a metal frame I can quadruple the PP while a spoiler trim on the back bristles really reduces drag, a good BPU can make a huge difference in broom performance. But judging by the magic around you you can probably figure that out anyway.”

Silence fell for a moment, as Mibbet processed what just happened, and decided scary as the girl was she liked Hestia. The girls eyes gained a glint of obsession and joyful enthusiasm when talking about brooms that Mibbet couldn’t help but smile about. Yet she had a feeling that if she wasn’t friendly here that the mask would clang back into place lightning fast, and the girl would have a harder time talking about something that brought her joy in the future. Mibbet refused to have that on her conscience, and did the only thing that one could do if you are a decent person in that situation. She offered a handshake back ignoring as best she could that Hestia had a grip like a world arm wrestling champions strongest vise. She could always get her circulation back in that hand later. Though the bones therein were something of a concern. Especially a moment later when she was swept up in a rather overenthusiastic hug by the third member of the little gang.

“Heeeey nice to meetcha, my name’s Song. Don’t know why though, was always more of a talker than a singer, and oooh boy I can see what Hes meant by magic. It’s just pouring off you, if I didn’t know better I’d say there were two people in there. Oh dear I’m off again, people sometimes say I talk too much, can you believe that?” (Mibbet could, quite easily. But in the interests of politeness, diplomacy, and not gaining any more curses she tactfully didn’t say that.) “Anyway pleased to meet you again. Now I’m going to pop in and see how Hagatha is faring, excuse me please.”

Then quick as a flash she vanished, leaving a rather dazed Mibbet reeling from an auditory assault, and wondering what the hops just happened.