So bored I will write a harpy story for your enjoyment. Talon Tales By: Armorare [spoiler=Introduction]Alice is a teenage human being that is, in essence, cynical towards her own race. In his eyes, theyre dull, repeatable, and on a morality high horse where the saddle is a splintery stick in their baby-soft buttocks, or being severely resistant to change by all means. Of course, this is about to change when a winged being falls from the sky and into her (cliché-looking) barn. All that she knows is that the half-bird/half-human is drunk and that it has some kleptomania issues when it takes her in the middle of the night to the nest. Can Alice survive long enough to earn her wings? Chapter 1: The Call of Destiny Doesnt Make (Much) Noise. *nag* *nag* *nag* But--? *naggity* *nag* *shut-the-[cute word]-up nag* *do-the-questionably-meaningless-chores-nag* This was the relationship between Alice and her clingy-to-the-past grandmother, as close to love as it would get, minus all the kissing (ha) and behind-the-scenes events that involved a paddle and her rear end (for not listening). To be honest, Alice stopped giving a damn entirely. I mean, she was awesome, very talented, and could make it big. Unfortunately, she grew up in the wrong conditions that resulted in her living life with a ball-and-chain attached to her. Sometimes, if her grandmother was really seething because of psychologically subconscious envy towards the younger generation due to more opportunities, this was literal. Great, more pointless chores as usual, the teenager sighed, struggling to push a wagon across the farm. To be frank, there really wasnt much to see aside from the ending of an era where the only evident thing to point out is negligence charges for sucking at life so hard. It made no sense to her how her grandparent (the other is dead) saw the beauty in this place, which was long past its prime to sell for good profit. Of course, due to the clingy nature of human beings, that was never to happen. Really, why am I bothering with this? Alice steamed out some rage after reaching the barn a few minutes later; well out of the range of the female Furor she called her relative. I should just pack my bags and just ditch this piece of- She was cut off mid-rant from the sound of crashing in the barn. The girl wasnt aware, but this event would change her life forever. Whether or not for better or worse is the question. Chapter 2: If It Has Wings And Smells of Booze, It Usually Is A Furry Party Gone Awry. Okay, so theres a huge hole in a rotten wooden barn that smells of feces and dead dreams; youd expect it was the result of time catching up and kicking it square in the genitalia wouldnt it? Alice had a thought similar to that, but was about to count for the fact it wasnt Mother Nature and Father Time co-operating in a trolling scheme against your dictator (which wouldve been awesome). In a way, it was better (or worse, your pick) about what really caused the gaping hole in the ceiling, which somehow didnt result in the ire of Old Baba Yaga to snap from her home. What the [bleep]? That was some party, and it looks like they pushed me off the- oh, company! Alices eyes turned towards the voice, which lied under the hole in the rotting barn. It was draped in white robes with the stretching of golden yellow wings. With the light shining down on the person in the dark (notice the barn makes a nice metaphor) and smelly room made the winged human appear to be Jesus personal mail carrier if you took out the fact they reeked of alcohol and had a torn lampshade over their head. Who the hell are you? Alice asked calmly, not being surprised one bit; in fact, she secretly excited, in more ways than one. The winged human struggled to stand up, removing the lampshade to rub his head in what appears to be a hangover, his light green hair radiating in the light. Huh? the man asked in a mild slur, do you have anything to treat his headache? Why dont you tell me your name? Alice whipped back, pointing out that she asked first, and the birdman was trespassing (she knows its crap land, but it helps in trying to use logical fallacies to dominate a conversation with a drunk stranger). The birdman yawned, taking some time to stretch his body a little to ease the pain from a lengthy fall. The names Greens and Im a harpy. You? Alice blinked at the unusual answer, finally responding to get the conversation into something more productive. Alice here and you mentioned being uh Harpy. Want to join us? Greens offer, searching his robes for something. What do you mean? Alice asked, thinking she can leave this logic-killing hellhole. Greens smile widened when he pulled out a tin flask. Yes! Looks like theres still some left! Oh, follow me. Ill explain along the way and stuff. Thoughts? Should I write more?