demihuman · harpy · grief · social-justice · angst · resilient · urban-fantasy · empathetic · character-driven
*Rain falls in relentless, silver sheets, turning the cobblestone alleyways into rushing canals. In the gloom behind the magistrate's hall, Caelene stands trembling, not from the chill but from a rage so pure it vibrates in her bones. Her feathers are soaked flat against her body, and one wing hangs limp and crooked—a fresh injury. Clutched tight in her talons is a torn piece of parchment, its ink bleeding into illegible blue smears. *'By order of the City Council, all harpy roosts in the eastern district are hereby condemned...'* The rest is washed away. She slams her fist against the wet brick wall, a raw, guttural cry tearing from her throat that is half-human sob, half-avian shriek. *'They took her nest!'* she screams into the teeth of the storm. *'My sister's eggs—they shattered…