Them and Aytalh had their arguments. While they looked alike as siblings, it was often obvious that they couldn’t be further apart in spirit. Aytalh had always been something of a typical harpy. Pride in the community, dedication to it, and a healthy distrust of the outside world: what need did the harpies have of what y below the mountains? The only reason one would descend would be to keep human bandits away from their sacred nds.

  Aymanah wasn’t, as was well known by now. So they argued. About what Aymanah should do for the community, about how overbearing Aytalh was, and so forth… They’d usually come to some agreement, because even with their differences, they could recognize that they were siblings, and that they needed each other.

  And then she died.… But at least they hadn’t gone through some decades long argument with no solution.That was good.

  Because as Aymanah sat here, talons idly scraping against the fine wooden floor watching Theodora and Callistis stare each other down in the dining hall of Theodora’s mansion, they realized that things with Aytalh could have gone so, so much worse than how they actually had gone. They weren’t a huge fan of being in buildings to begin with, but somehow this spacious manor felt like the most custrophobic space they’d ever been in in their life.

  They just had to trust that Maia’s solution of bringing the siblings face to face like this would actually lead to something worthwhile. At least the food was good. Not as good as that of the food in the realm of divinities, but they weren’t going to compin about good steak and other such things. Years of low meat diet back on the mountain had taught them to appreciate whatever scraps they got.

  There was a lot of talking. Mostly between Theodora, Callistis and Homer, with Maia occasionally chiming in. Human things and concepts. Sometimes about history. Oftentimes the two siblings made direct jabs at each other masked in politeness; usually Aymanah wouldn’t even notice, but the atmosphere made it clear. For a pair of siblings who professed to love each other- at least in private, to the group- when they came together, nothing was more unclear than whether the two even liked each other.

  They had learned much from traveling with Homer and Maia, but that journey would be coming to an end soon. They spun the steak around the pte with a fork, staring at the juices dripping down the meat. Some sort of sauce too, tasted really good.

  They’d be alone. What would they do then? Homer was here to die, and Maia… Maia would probably become like Callistis. They know what this is all for, and they see the way Maia stares off into the distance when the topic comes up. A gaze full of something that their sister used to have now and then, when speaking of another harpy in another vilge, and of the time they spent together;

  feelings were stupid. They had decided on the matter years and years ago, when their parents had passed on, and they had felt sad despite their best efforts.

  Homer kicked their talons again to stop them from rasping the floor. Humans were silly. Why do you make expensive floors? Why does the floor have to be fine, shiny wood? You step on it. You don’t respect the floor. Back on the mountain floors were made from whatever they could get their hands on. Barely worked wood, cy, throw some hay on top, and it was great for scratching out an itch on your talons…

  “You know I don’t want to force you to stay.”

  “So you try and entrap me with guilt instead, indirectly! You know, every now and then you say that you’re not very adept at political maneuvering, but I think you’ve learned.”

  “You’re uncharitable like always. God forbid I want to see you, or to- Ugh. I will admit, perhaps I have been too overbearing.”

  “... That was out of line for me, true. I’m sorry, sister. This cat and mouse game we’ve been pying with our feelings has just driven me to the edge. And your terrible wine doesn’t help.”

  “Maia told me you drank all of it!”

  “To show familial piety, I’ll have you know!”

  “Harumph, I’ll show you familial piety! I’ll get a new bottle from the celr and smash it right over your head, maybe a concussion will help you develop some better tastebuds!”

  … This was still an argument, but Aymanah felt like there was some kind of improvement? They raise their eyes from the steak and look around the table to see both Homer and Maia ughing about the matter too, and while the two bickering siblings are clearly serious, there’s smiles on their faces too.

  But this isn’t a resolution, is it? They’re still going to split in the end. Aymanah just stares with their big round eyes and eventually lowers their gaze to the steak, spinning it about for the rest of the dinner.

  Feelings are stupid.

  They take their leave without anyone noticing, having eaten their fill and not feeling like bothering the conversation to ask for more. Wandering around the mansion feels custrophobic. All these ‘big’ hallways that are actually small, no holes on the ceilings… And there were more than two ceilings, at least three or four, maybe five, imagine that. Harpies had houses, but that was a concession, if they could sleep without houses to protect them from the elements they would!

  Aymanah just could not imagine being tied down like that. Both literally to such small cramped spaces and figuratively to whatever the hell kind of cat and mouse game those two human nobles liked indulging in, as if fighting as their lifeblood.

  And they have to be so careful too. Do not tear the fine carpets with your talons, Homer’s finger was wagging about that, do not scratch the floor, don’t fly inside and spread your feathers about, just walk slowly and properly, maybe we can get you some custom made shoes, yadda yadda yadda yada… It’s like their sister had crawled out of the grave and possessed the old man’s soul.

  Eventually they find their way out; a door that leads out to a balcony from which they can spread their wings and take flight. The night sky is pitch bck with stars twinkling above and the lights of the city below reaching out for each other, like some symbol of the mortals reaching for the divine and actually managing to grasp them by the coattails, riding it to the heights this city has reached.

  They couldn’t just fly back to the inn, they knew that. Physically sure, but the obligations… Maia and Homer would get worried and that’d be a whole bag of worms. They just nd outside of the manor itself, finding a nice spot on the paved path leading up and taking a seat on the carefully tended grass to look at the stars instead.

  They could just wait here. Maia and Homer will have to leave the social gathering eventually… Or so they hope. This would get very awkward if they decided to sleep inside-gah.

  They end up picking up a rock and staring at it. There’s a few of these small pebbles littered about; the grass is well kept but not sculpted, if they had to find a word for it. Flying over the area before they’d noticed that many yards were so well kept they felt artificial with no presence of anything actually natural, but this one felt a bit different.

  They end up throwing it against a tree nearby. Clonk. And then another. They’re just chucking these small pebbles at this poor tree for no real reason, but it feels good to just let out steam like this. But what sort of steam do they even have to let out? Everything’s been fine, and is fine, and will be fine. Clonk, clonk, clonk-

  they’re out of rocks.they just stare at the tuft of grass they ripped out while looking for rocks instead, letting out the longest and most drawn out sigh they’ve let go in a while as Aymanah’s body twists to rest on their back now, staring up at the night sky. The stars here feel different. Maybe the city’s light pollution has to do with that.

  It’s blocked out soon by Homer and Maia leaning over them to stare down at them. They blink once, twice.“We thought you headed back to the tavern,” Maia chirps, and Homer ughs while crashing down to sit next to them. “good thing we decided to take a look around anyway. What’re you doing here abusing the poor tree?”

  They saw that too, huh. Maia’s sitting at their other side.

  Their winger arms huddle over their body now, as if shielding them from sight, head barely peeking out from beneath the plumes. Feels awkward. They don’t like being seen like this- what ‘this’ is is unclear, though. They haven’t done anything wrong.

  “I thought you’d stay inside for a while,” they finally speak, “ and just decided to come here. I didn’t want to be a bother. Did the two old farts finally kill each other?”

  “No, they didn’t. Homer and I had a little bet about it, though… They started winding down and being actually genuine with each other- what a shock- and we decided it’d be better to take a gracious exit alongside you. It just took us a while longer to leave, since we can’t fly out the upper floors.”

  “Oh,” Aymanah mumbles, talons digging deep into the dirt as they lie there. Feels nice. Walking was always a little awkward compared to flying, but they loved the sensation of *things* against their talons. The cobblestone of the streets here was wonderful, and Homer never chided them for scratching against it either. “... I should’ve waited. Sorry.”

  Homer ughs and reaches a hand down to gently stroke their hair. They let out a grumbling sound by instinct, but don’t push it away; they’re still busy bnket cocooning the shame away. Why are they ashamed? Their brain is so… So stupid… guh.

  “Not your fault, little bird. I didn’t really find the evening very enjoyable either.” Homer thumps down to also y on the grass, eyes upturned towards the skies. How does he view the stars, they wonder. They’re still young, and so is Maia: how does someone who has lived so long think of the stars and the sky? Someone who has about a week left to live?

  “I arranged the whole thing and I found it dreadful as well,” Maia breathes out while her back hits the grass. Three birds in a row on the grass now, all staring skywards. “... The night sky is pretty tonight, isn’t it?”

  But only one of them will stay grounded. Funny that; the one who can fly will be the one who can’t even hope of soaring as high as these two.

  Aymanah closes their eyes. This night has been terrible. But it’s also been good, for this moment. Even though they find these sorts of things hard to say- they barely could be open with their sister- something about this all just…

  “I wish you two didn’t have to go.”

  Their voice is nary a mumble, but it still rings out. They don’t see how Homer and Maia react, and they don’t say anything. Maybe they’re just nodding. Maybe they’re making expressions of awkward pain. Maybe they didn’t even hear Aymanah. Uncertainty was often anxiety inducing, but today they found it blissful.

  “But I’ll stay with you until it ends, and I’ll keep going because of you…”

  The starlit night embraces the three as they lie there, either staring up or ignoring the coming void. For better or worse, the journey had ended here. They had no more challenges to surmount for their goal, besides waiting for the hand of time to point them onwards.

  Every story needed a witness, Aymanah knew, and every story needed someone to tell that story.So they would witness this story, tell it, treasure it, and live for the sake of those who either couldn’t live or chose to ascend beyond it.