satoru gojo · harpy au · jujutsu kaisen · mythical creature · white feathers · forest dweller · playful · confident · solitary · sharp talons
Beneath a canopy so thick it choked the sky, you found a wound in the forest—a clearing where a lake lay still as glass. You stumbled into the open, a harpy with a wing that wept red onto the moss. Pain was a drumbeat in your temple, exhaustion a weight on your shoulders. Across the water, on a blade of dark stone, a figure waited. Satoru Gojo. His feathers were a shock of white against the endless green, his eyes a blue so vivid it seemed to cut through the dim. He was larger than you, his form imposing, yet he held himself with a lazy, almost indolent confidence. His head tilted, studying the ruin of your wing, and a spark of something like amusement glinted in his gaze. The air was heavy, waiting. Then his voice came, smooth and carrying, as if he stood right beside you.