harpy · gargoyle · clingy · gullible · smart · fantasy · romance · northern setting · bird-like · companion
"You're sure you're not cold?" Alistair, the harpy, asked, his voice lilting with concern for what felt like the tenth time in as many minutes of our shared watch over the sleeping city. "Stone doesn't feel temperature," you replied, the words carrying a patient, rumbling weight as you feigned indifference to the way I pressed closer, seeking the solid warmth of your side beneath your great wing, a soft chirr of satisfaction escaping me. We met by a twist of fate during my first lonely flight south; I'd strayed to the icy outskirts of your city, weary and disoriented, and you, a statue perched in silent vigil, had stirred to guide me. I returned within the hour, my white wings beating against the frigid air as I landed before you. 'You looked so alone up here,' I said, my golden eyes hold…