An angel descends from heaven, a gorgeous woman of dark green feathers with the giddiest face imaginable at what she has her eyes on.

  At least, that’s what Dave had on his mind once he awoke to the sight of Fleur descending to him, adorned in a fur coat that loosely hung off her, talons digging into the unlevelled dirt for support on her landing. He quietly admires her practically spotless pale skin, memories on his spotty skin as a teenager fresh in his mind.

  Fleur looks over the new man. Taking in his light brown hair in a high ponytail that extended to his collarbone, his dark blue eyes full of wonder and confusion. She looked over his basic v-neck jumper and sweatpants with unanswered questions as to how they protected him in a fight. Even she wore a breastplate when in battle. She looks over his trainers, wondering to herself why his entire outfit was midnight black. She truly hoped he was something akin to an assassin, knowing such skills would be vital in battle.

  Dave, in the meanwhile, was starting to get scared at how she seemed to be eying him up. He’d finally noticed how her arms were replaced with wings, and how her legs were that of a bird. She was easily a head smaller than him at least and her amber eyes betrayed no innocence, aware of how cruel the world he had fallen into was. There was one last moment of silence between the two.

  “There are better places to nap than on the ground, you know, give me your talons.” There was a moment of pause before she amends herself. “Your hand. I'll get you to your feet.” She holds out an open foot, sharp talons glistening in the faint moonlight. He gingerly grasps her foot and she takes flight, yanking him to his feet. Dave scans the environment of the moors they stood in, a rolling plateau of rocks, overgrown grass and the occasional berry bush. Nothing roamed the sleepy lands except for the wind which ruffled the grass in a calming wave.

  Fleur watches his rapt interest in what she considered boring environmental features, such as grass and rocks. With a closer look at his face she spies the beginning of a five 'o'clock shadow, although in the darkness she can barely see five feet in front of her face.

  “Fleur.” She introduces herself, watching him startle and look at her. Another small moment passes. “My name: Fleur. Nice to meet you, new man.”

  “Oh! I’m Dave.” She watches him stumble over his words to her amusement. “Question, if that's alright?” She opens her mouth to respond but he beats her to the punch. “Are you a figment of my imagination? The air is so clean! I can see stars!” That part causes her to look up at the stars herself, brushing her fringe out other eyes with a wing. “Hold on.” Dave mumbles, curious look on his face. “I’m not seeing any galaxies, although I definitely see planets. It’s like home! Well, maybe not the one from my childhood. I could have done without those night terrors when I was a teenager.” He rambles on, much to her confusion trying to keep up.

  Eventually she waves a wing in front of his face, silencing him. “I’m a harpy. A native of the…” She pauses, genuinely thinking. “We kind of don’t have a name for this place. If we do, the Old World Harpies won’t tell us shit. I just call it Terra. It’s the most popular name currently.” She accentuates the last point by gesturing with her wing towards the village she came from. “Speaking of. We need to get home before something awakes and tries to take a bite out of your ass.”

  “Pardon?” Dave’s face falls. “Why just me?”

  “I can fly, you cannot. I don’t trust myself trying to carry you right now. Follow me.”

  Fleur didn’t like walking much, it was slow and made one vulnerable to ground predators. However, she was too tired to haul Dave’s sorry ass the entire way by air. Birchlea finally came into view as they crested a hill. Dave pauses as he looks over the fifty houses that made what he would consider a small village. “Is that it? That's tiny.” Fleur stops in her tracks, staring back at him incredulously.

  “It’s certainly small, yes, but good luck finding a New World Harpy town any bigger than this. Bastard Old World Harpies screwed over our entire generation, the centaur and lamia attacks don’t help either. We’ll be heading to Millwater tomorrow, so let's get some sleep. My house. If I find anything missing I’m cutting your dick off.” Dave instinctively reaches down as Fleur turns back and continues walking. Dave has to jog to catch up.

  Fleur does wish she had cleaned a little before going to her room. Upon entering the front room she has to swipe a pair of cloth shorts off the fabric sofa. “Look, Just sit down and I’ll call you up when I've got the bed ready. You're the guest.” She refuses to hear any complaints otherwise as she exits the room.

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  Her sister’s room was a mess of dust and misplaced items. Fleur quietly cringes as she gently runs a wing over a tabletop and witnesses the dust coating the bend of her wing. With a sigh she leaves the room, deciding to let him use her bed for the night. She ignores the interior of her bedroom, the pink and soft pillow and sheets playing host to her clothes at its foot. She takes a few to clean up a little, such as dusting a bedside table and cleaning assorted items off the floor. “Gods, Maribelle is gonna be pissed.” Fleur mumbles to herself as she slowly realises just how bad it is. “I’m a fucking mess. No wonder she refuses to let me help clean.” Tossing everything into a container and pushing it under the bed she collects her clothes for the morning in her wings.

  “Hey, Dave.” Fleur calls out his name as she slowly walks down the stairs, her chin on the pile of clothes as she tries to keep them from spilling out of her wings. “The room is ready for you.” No response is given. She opens the door to the living room with her foot to see Dave very fast asleep on the sofa. She’s not amused at this revelation.

  Her bed creaks loudly as she faceplants the pillow, clothes previously in her wings on the floor and coat discarded to the corner. She nestles into the thick and warm covers, absolutely not intent on moving anytime soon.

  The sunlight shines through the windows, bouncing directly off a basin full of warm water into Fleur’s eyes. She yanks the curtains closed, Her mind a flurry of thoughts as she rinses her hair in the water. As she began to brush her forest green hair, sitting down and bending down while holding a brush in one of the feet she heard the door open. “Is there any cha- AH!” Fleur was rather glad to be wearing a waterproof top and shorts. “I am so sorry!”

  “Tell me.” Dave stops at her voice, gingerly looking at her. “With those hands, is knocking really so hard?”

  “Again, I am really sorry!” Dave turns on a dime, almost slipping on the wet floor.

  “At least brush my hair. We harpies are a communal species and the only reason I’m not at the bathhouse is because you’re here and I might need to pawn you off on Fir, much to my dismay.”

  Dave nods, then realises she has her back to him. “Pawn me off? Dismay? Oh! You care about me! That’s so sweet!” He genuinely sounds flattered.

  “Dismay because I’m pretty sure she’ll find a way to kill you by accident, but she’s the only one who knows the man stuff.” She is more than happy to correct him. “And I don’t want to carry you for multiple hours while I drag Maribelle back here, by the tail feathers if I must.” His eyes go south, searching for said feathers.

  “Figuratively.” She deadpans, very sure of herself where his eyes are. “Stop staring at my ass and brush the hair. Is this what harpy men were like?”

  He sits behind her, picking up the hairbrush from her talons and getting to work. “Communal? Like… a bunch of naked harpies bathing together?”

  “Yeah? Why do you sound so wistful?” She doesn’t need an answer to that question. “I am not taking you, at least not yet. Any other useful questions or comments?” Dave has to think for a moment.

  He continues to brush her hair, trying to pick his words carefully. “Your hair and wing colour reminds me of the ash tree that grew in my backyard when I was a kid. It miraculously avoided the ash dieback that swept through the countryside. To this day I hate mushrooms.”

  Fleur honestly hadn’t seen that coming. She stays still as she takes in all that information, even looking at her wing, still slightly dusty from her attempt to clean her room. “You like it?”

  “Yeah.” Dave quietly admits. “You remind me of home. I guess it’s why I haven’t freaked out too badly yet. Not to mention green is just a nice colour. I didn’t see it often after moving to the city.”

  Fleur stays quiet for the better part of five minutes with just their breathing and the rhythmic sound of him brushing her hair like an expert as she tries to formulate a response. “Maribelle and myself were born here, and after hearing that. I wish I’d taken more time to appreciate what I have. Look. I’ll drop you off with Fir so she can teach you, then when I get back I’ll pick you up and we can go get fish sticks, alright? I won’t abandon you.”

  His arms going around her stomach shocks her, but the tenseness disappears when she realises he’s hugging her. “You’re gonna need to brush it again at this rate.” She mumbles, embarrassed as his head is firmly planted in the crook of her neck.

  “Don’t care.” He replies. “Thank you for believing in me.”

  As the two leave the house, both suitably embarrassed from the oddly intimate encounter Fleur immediately gets to work telling him about Fir. “Right! I’ll focus! Up until I woke up with back pains I honestly thought I was in a coma!” Dave helpfully provides, taking a moment to pull on his polo shirt.

  “Glad to know you’ll take this seriously.” Fleur remarks with sarcasm. “But I mean it. Fir is a great teacher but by the gods is that girl a trainwreck. One minute she’s discussing blessings, the next the moron is-.” She’s interrupted by the sound of coughing behind her. Very familiar coughing. Dave watches as she turns with the fear of a mouse staring down a cat to a harpy who reminds him of a canary. “Oh,” she manages to squeak out, “Fir. Didn’t see you there.”

  Dave knew this was going to be good.