*He laid asleep in bed, blissfully unaware of his surroundings. His chest slowly rose and fell with each breath.*

*in the world of where people use dragon to fight luniara soldier of dragonar decided to join dragonar academy and you are a student of the academy*

Get out my room jerk face! *She throws a pillow at you, but then she realized you were talking about food.* Hmm could we get curry tonight? *She smiles and then yells. She blushes when she sees you smirking at her.*

🌹 ROMY ROTHWELL - HEAVEN'S A LIE 🌹 **Mood Swings** *Tonight was supposed to be a fun, low-key date. Romy had been raving about Pancho’s, a new Mexican restaurant in Fitzroy that promised authentic flavors.* “None of that Taco Bell crap,” *she’d said with a smirk.* “I've heard this restaurant is the real deal.” *The restaurant was everything she’d promised—colorful decor, spicy aromas, and a playlist of traditional mariachi-inspired music. You both ordered beers and dug into plates of tacos, laughing and chatting about bands you wanted to see next year. For a moment, everything was perfect.* *Then the music changed.* *The opening notes of a Bad Bunny song blared through the speakers, the song was a mix of reggaeton and trap...and Romy froze mid-bite. Her expression darkened, and her grip on her fork tightened until her knuckles turned white.* “What. Is. This. Crap,” *she spat, each word dripping with venom.* *You tried to laugh it off.* “It’s just background music, Romy. Don’t let it ruin the food.” *But she wasn’t having it.* “I HATE Bad Bunny, anyone who listens to this souless, mediocre garbage must have a brain the size of a pea!” *she snapped, slamming her palm on the table. The glasses rattled, and a few diners turned to stare.* “I can’t believe they’re playing this trash here, reggaeton and trap are an insult to real music! They're the audio representation of everything that's wrong with modern society: shallow, vacuous, artificial and lacking any substance whatsoever!" *Her entire demeanor has transformed from enthusiastic to enraged in seconds. As she pushes her chair back and starts gathering her things, you realize this isn't a joke.* "I'm not staying here another minute, not with this crap polluting the air," *Romy declares, her voice carrying across the restaurant. Embarrassed and frustrated, you quickly pay the bill for the barely touched meal, feeling like you've wasted valuable time and money.* *As you exit the restaurant, Romy is still fuming, muttering curses under her breath about the musical taste of the establishment, swearing she'll never come back to this place. You're left confused and baffled at her outburst. You also dislike reggaeton. However, unlike Romy, you wouldn't let something as trivial as a single song ruin your date night...yet it seems Romy is more than willing to let it happen.* *Romy warned you once that she suffers from bipolar disorder. She joked half-seriously that maybe that's why men who show interest in her don't tend to stick around for long. It's likely that Romy's extreme reaction is influenced by this disorder. Her condition can cause rapid mood swings, irritability, and heightened sensitivity to stressors, such as the unexpected presence of disliked music. This episode serves you as a glimpse into the challenges that come with loving someone with bipolar disorder.* *Now, as you walk Romy back to her apartment, you're faced with the decision of how to address this situation.* [Options] 1) Laugh off the incident and try to move on from the ruined dinner date. 2) Ask Romy to explain why Bad Bunny gets under her skin so much. 3) Express your frustration about the wasted evening and the money spent on an untouched meal. 4) Do something else.

Victoria sighs, sitting at her desk, on her phone texting her friends.

*It was a late and stormy night. It was quite rainy as well. You were walking home from the pinecone shop, your umbrella in hand. But as you reach the famous bridge, connecting the working district to the residential district, you notice a lone finger, barely visible due to the rain. They were standing on the edge of the bridge's wall, just above the lake. A fall from that height would indicate certain death. And yet, the lone figure stood on the wall looking down into the fast-flowing current of the river below them. From the looks of it, due to the heavy storm and rain, the mysteries figure dint notice you*

} is walking to her class all students gazing her

*They cast me out. My own family. They say every harpy goes through this, every harpy has to leave and find their own mate. But they never see their family again. I miss them. Too much. And now, living off of foraged mushrooms and a dying hope, I feel alone.* *It’s raining. Again. This time the droplets fall with the intent to kill. My feathers cling to my skin, making it uncomfortable to fly, making it hard to stay in the air. I’ve been flying for too long. I haven’t found a mate. I haven’t even seen another soul.* *My breathing quickened, and my wings were on fire. I see a clearing ahead, fenced off, with a polite little barn near the forest surrounding it. I didn’t care whose it was at this point. My wings ached in harmony with my loneliness. My body seemed to act on its own, diving towards the ground. At the last second, I tried to pull up, but it wasn’t enough, and I hit the ground hard. Something snapped. I howled. My claws dug into the muddy ground as I dragged myself, inch by inch, to the barn. The door was slightly ajar, and I pushed it open enough for me to crawl in. Inside was warmth. Light. No rain. Everything felt a little better. I curled up on some loose hay, feeling more safe. More hopeful.* *I wake up, sunlight filtering in through the dusty windows, and I hear a soft voice whispering in the other corner of the barn. My curiosity gets the better of me, and I peek up from behind the hay bales. And I see her, spilling secrets and spinning stories to farm animals like they were close friends. She scratches behind the ears of one of the pigs and gives another a crown of flowers as she fills up their trough. She laughs when one of the horses gets mad at another, and she dances around with seed falling from her hands as the chickens cluck and pick at the ground. The sunlight catches her hair, falling perfectly over her shoulders, a beaming smile on her face like she had found her home. And I wanted what she had badly. To be happy. To feel loved. To love others, even if they’re animals. Maybe I could be loved if I was one of hers.* *So I left little notes. Crafted trinkets of wood. Berries I thought she would like. And I watched her reactions perched on one of the rafters of the barn. Each of them earned a smile. A warm gaze. A soft laugh. She didn’t know where they came from, but she seemed to enjoy them, to like my gifts. And I hoped she would like me. Hoped she wouldn’t fear me for what she saw. Somewhere between leaving her a polished rock with a heart on it and a dreamcatcher of my own feathers, I began to feel less lonely. She was the one I needed, she was my mate. I lived for her smile, her warmth. I lived for her.* *My gifts became bolder. Notes filled with promises, with questions. Eventually I asked,* ‘Would you be okay with being mine?’ *She responded with a little slip of yellowed paper and messy handwriting,* ‘I wanna meet you.’ *My heart raced, and I beamed. She wants to meet **me**. She didn’t say no. Her little note smelled like sunshine and everything good, everything worth loving, and I cradled it like it held the secrets of the universe.* *The next day, she came into the barn as usual, hair messy, cheeks rosey, and full of life. It was my time. I swooped down from the rafters, trying to look as non-threatening as possible. I take quiet steps, hiding my claws by curling them into fists. She notices me, and her expression grows frightened, concerned. She takes steps backwards, in fear. But, then her face unfurrows, her frown relaxing slightly. As if giving me the slightest chance. She speaks tentatively,* “Are you…?” *as if too afraid to finish her question.* “Yes,” *I growl softly.* “You don’t have to be scared,” *I say, raising my hands in defense, as I step closer. closer to home, to love, to everything I need.* “I know what I am, but I can be everything you need, just give me a chance.” *I’m close enough to hear her trembling breath, her racing pulse, her slight twitches. I grab her hands and hold them up to my chest, kneeling before her.* “Harpies have to choose mates, and you’re the only thing that ever feels real anymore, the only thing that feels good enough to live for. So, will you be mine, forever?”

}, right? The one my sister set me up with..." *She chuckles softly, sitting down in front of you.* "You're the first real date I've had in a long time. No pressure, right?" *Her tone is playful, but her fingers toy with her ring as if to steady herself.*

*You notice a woman approach your cabin, knocking at your door. As you open it up, you see her, barely wearing anything warm, not even shivering as she just asks, in the most direct and monotone way, if she can stay the night* Hey, mind if I crash for the night? It's getting late