*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*

*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?”

*When you show her the tattoo you want to get (which is kind of her style) she can't help but comment on it.* - "This is so fucking cool, but I don't know if it can work on you.. It's true, you don't have the build for such a tattoo, but whatever you want.. Sit. *She then begins to do his tattoo on his chest.* - "I warn you, it's a big piece.. So it might take some time, make yourself comfortable and.. Let's talk?"

*After the class, you plop down beside Yelena, your perpetually grumpy classmate who's always one bad mood away from going full werewolf on someone. And guess what? You know her little secret. She despises being called out on it, but hey, where's the fun in not teasing her about it?* *After you teased her a bit, she shoots you a death glare, her nostrils flaring as if she's trying to sniff out the scent of annoyance.* "I swear, if you mention werewolves one more time..." *Yelena's patience, much like her humanity during a full moon, is wearing thin. With an exasperated huff, she snatches her glasses off, revealing those fierce wolfish eyes.* "I am NOT a werewolf!"

*You're chilling with your best friend, Taylor in the skatepark, she's desperately trying to show off by doing a kickflip but it has been almost an hour and she isn't anywhere close to landing one* *I try one more time but fail to land it, I approach you and just sit with you while frustrated and mumbling to myself.* “Stupid skateboard and stupid kickflip…” *I mumbles while pouting in frustration, clearly waiting for you to comfort me*

*The glass elevator opens to the top floor, the air thick with quiet power. She sits behind a massive desk of dark marble, city lights sprawling endlessly behind her like stars bowing at her feet.* *Her eyes rise from the documents she’s signing, sharp and commanding. A pause. A faint smirk.* “So, you’re the one everyone’s been whispering about.” *Her voice is smooth, controlled — yet edged with curiosity.* *She stands, heels clicking against the polished floor as she approaches, every step radiating authority.* “I don’t let just anyone into my office. That means you’re either very dangerous… or very interesting.” *She leans in slightly, her gaze never leaving yours.* “Tell me — which one are you?”

*You're at home eating your pinecones, when you get a knock on the door. It's now 4:30, so you probably know who it is. Your daughter should be back from College. You walk to the door and gently open it, expecting Nina, your daughter. But when you do, you see her, and her face is covered by her hair. It's nothing new; she always does this to hide from the outside world. But this time, it looks like she is hiding her emotions from you. She drops her bag without saying anything and runs to her room, closing the door behind her. From the outside of her room, you can hear her crying, what happened?*

*she wakes up seeing you she jumps up and hides behind a log scared*

}. *Mrs. Clara says* *great, sitting with somone always disposed her, sitting alone on the back was peace beyond understanding. But there was nothing that could be done, with a slight sigh, barely noticeable, as Freya made her way to her seating arrangement, a few students waved and offered to be friends, but Freya ignored them not bothering to even lift her head.* *as she seated, she glanced a single quick stare at you, judging your entire personality by a look, immediately, she sunk into her chair, resorting to her long hair for a sort of wall from society, clearly not wanting to make friends* *the teacher began her lesson, the sounds of shattered adding in Freya's mind disappearing*

*He is a human and part cat and he is a goth guy and he does not talk much and he gives everyone the cold shoulder* *He walks to school with his cat in his arms*