It was an amusing display, many flapping wings, and swaying hips, all along the delicate perch of a tree branch. If what little sounds that reached my ears were to be believed, they produced rather bright, if not melodious, musical notes as well. It was a colorful swell, both in image and song, and it somehow made the vivid jungle environment they inhabited look pallid in comparison. These beings, these harpies, were the center of my attention at the moment, and even at a mile’s distance, they commanded it well.

“I would almost call it comical, were they not pouring their heart into it.” I lowered the spyglass from my eye, and looked to the elderly woman, Dr. Everrock, sitting to my side.

“How do you mean?” I looked at her expression, her wrinkles deepening into crevices as she thought a second. She tilted her head, a salt and pepper lock on her head drooping from her head.

“The comical bit, or the heart bit?” She looked up at me, sockets wrinkled with age but her eyes sharp and bright as any youth’s. I got the feeling that she could stare someone down with that glare, but right now it was but a gentle prod to my vision.

“Both I suppose.” I shrug, my jacket riding up and down. As I do so, I realize that the humidity must’ve caused my armpits to get pretty sweaty, and I pull off my jacket to cool off.

“Well, with all my research, I've found that all their dances, flamboyant or not, are important parts of not only their culture but even their communication. They have an intention and lifelong practice invested into each move, much like the grammar and words we choose to speak. As for the comical part... well, I’m pretty sure I saw my grandson do a dance like that one, so I suppose that might just be me.”

I stuffed my spyglass into the pouch on my hip. “Well, I do find their dance humorous as well, so I suppose there’s a je ne sais quoi to it.” We both stared at the sight in silence for a minute or two, and then a quandary popped into my head. “Do they... think like us?”

Everrock was stumped at what I could mean. “Us, as in humans? Us, as in women?”

“Us as in adults. You compared them to your grandson, which has me wondering... would you consider them, well, mature? Or well, you know, mature capable?”

Everrock laughed a bit at the idea. “Sure, they’re silly, but all of our communication with them for the past almost... ehh, hundred years or so, points to cognitive capabilities similar to ours.”

“I don’t understand what you mean by ‘communication.’ I was under the impression that harpies can’t speak.”

She nodded her head, giving the impression that she was familiar with both the question and answer. “They can’t speak most written tongue, no. But that doesn’t mean they don’t have a language. The anatomy of their voice, at least as much as I can tell without cutting one open, is very different from humans. They produce a huge range of noises, but they mostly use squawks, chirps, and other such avian noises. Each noise doesn’t have a concrete meaning, as there seems to be a lot of dependence on contexts, such as mood or the situation at hand. Their language seems to be leagues more complicated than ours in it’s minutia, but in a general sense, it’s very intuitive! We’ve also actually noticed a good chunk of them can take well to at least understanding English and such.”

I puffed out a ‘hmph’ and began walking away. “Well, I shall leave you to your bird watching then.”

Everrock craned her head to follow me but remained seated at the gnarled log she apparently considered a comfortable bench. “Making your way back, captain?”

I nodded my head as I passed through the good doctor’s campsite, a small cell of civilization on this island. Granted, my walk was only to be a few hours before I reached the small port town, but between that and the island’s scant harpy population, the doctor and her team had their own little slice of heaven here. “Yes, the company wants the cargo back as soon as possible, considering a portion of it is perishable. My crew and I must keep our recreational time here to a minimum, sadly.”

As the distance between us two grew, she raised her voice as appropriate. “Hah, yes, I saw crates of flowers I believe? I’d be surprised if they make it to their destination without any wilting.”

I sighed and said to myself, “I’d be surprised too.”

“And Captain Louis, I can expect to see you and your ship again in three weeks, on the 24th?”

On the edge of the camp and about to go down the hardly beaten path back to town, I yelled over to her “Yes, should whatever god watching over these waters allow it.”

“Briinsko!” she said, with a trill.

I paused my walk. “Briinsko?” I asked, trill removed.

“It’s the god of these harpies. At least, that’s my understanding through my talks with these natives.”

I sounded a note of amusement and resumed my trek back to my ship.

The day’s weather was fair, but all the vegetation and water seems to always leave this place with rather persistent humidity. The hot stickiness the air had was not unbearable, but the few streams of wind that came rolling through here and there were welcome. When lacking those, I looked forward to every patch of shade that came with the bends and turns of the trail and trees.

With my coming to a nearby river, I decided to take cooling myself into my own hands. I knelt over the waters and cupped my hands to draw some of it. I poured the water over my face and rubbed it into my cheeks, and then cupped another handful to cool my blonde hair and the back of my neck. I knew better to risk directly drinking the water, lest I come down with an illness in the middle of our voyage. Instead, I sat back and took my waterskin from my pouch for a quick swig. I sat there for a few moments to stare at the river and take a breather, but to my eyes’ surprise, I spotted someone about thirty meters down the river.

It was this standing figure, a streak of brown, black, yellow and red. Their feet were sunk into the flowing waters, and using these flowing wings of theirs, they repeatedly reached down and bathed themselves. When I realized I was peeping on one of the local’s cleaning time, I tried to divert my gaze, but I still found myself looking out of the corner of my eye. Something about the individual’s poise left me with a tinge of allurement, even if it led

Soon enough, this young harpy must’ve noticed my presence, as they took on a rather bashful yet curious position; one foot raised, and both arms (er, wings...) shielding their bosom. I was going to speak that I didn’t mean to intrude, but knowledge of a language barrier stood in my way. Instead, I simply funneled my gaze away from their slender body by shielding my eyes with a hand. It was a few moments in silence, moments I spent wondering what this harpy was doing, if not flying away or calling to me. Whether I was committing some sort of faux pas or simply acting a bit strange wracked my brain.

Soon, I lowered my hand to check on the harpy again, only to find them in the same pose. I faced directly towards them to get a better look, and I found that looking more clearly at them revealed that it was a boy; rather scantily clothed, hardly a few years younger than me, and their pose more resembled mock modesty than modesty. His thighs seemed relaxed in their somewhat crossed position, his wings weren’t covering as much of his chest as they could’ve been, and while his face was hard to scrutinize from this distance, I got a playfully coy impression of it. After that brief and surprisingly sexually charged moment, he suddenly took flight, the water of the stream bursting out with him and falling back down in a gentle rain. With the conversation apparently over, I gathered myself and made my way back to town.

Arriving back at the port, it wasn’t long before I made it back to my ship. The town was neither a sprawl or a maze, and my ship was probably one of the biggest structures in the area. While I didn’t really take my time getting there, I had secretly hoped that my crew still had some preparations to do. The island was stunningly gorgeous, and the day’s weather was a luxury, even with the minor sunburns my normally peach skin had. Another moment of respite would be nice.

As I approached the ship, I noticed my crew were enjoying their own moment of respite, gathered around some sort of attraction. There was clapping and hollering, but what they were looking at I could not tell until I broke into the circle they had formed. It was a specific stranger, one with wings, tail feathers, and brown skin, all in a currently... showy display.

He was standing on top of a barrel, one of our barrels as far as I could tell, and was lost in the reverie of a cycle of dancing, being praised, dancing more, and being praised more. He swung his wings around in a colorful stream, and his feet... well, talons, were rather deftly tapping about on his rather small stage. As impressed as I was by his movements, my baser instincts kept on leading me more to his middle. He wore some kind of cloth thong, which had decorative drapes hanging from the flanks. His black, yellow, and red tail feathers did some concealing of his rear, but with the wild shakes and swings he was performing and the tightness of what was his only article of clothing, there was little to imagine of his rich-brown skin.

Although I felt a tinge of shame at staring, the entranced hollering of many women and some men at least affirmed that he was, in fact, a sweet piece of ass. I was trying to furtively crane my neck to get a better look (chastity culture be damned, I felt), but with a spin, he fluttered his eyes open, noticed me, and locked eyes. With only about ten feet between us and him facing directly towards me, this was the clearest look I had of his features yet. Yep, definitely a boy, and a very appealing one at that. His vibrant skin lacked any significant blemish and appeared soft and smooth all around. He had curly black hair that exploded from his scalp, with one ‘bang’ rather stylishly covering his right eye. Pretty much all of his facial features whispered of feminine elegance, with a round face, pursed and slightly puffy lips, petite nose, and wide, crystal clear eyes. Those eyes somehow grew even more lively at the sight of me, and an excited trill flowed out from him. It’s a strange thing to hear a delicate bird call from what one is used to considering a human face! At the time, I hadn’t the slightest clue why he was so thrilled by my presence, nor did I very much care to know. This was technically my second time seeing him, but it was what most would call ‘love at first sight.’

He closed his eyes again and poised himself to resume dancing. Many of my crew started elbowing me and calling me out, noticing how he seemed to be ‘giving the captain special attention.’ They were jovial, but their actions led me to finally seriously ask, ‘why am I getting special attention?’ This question stopped, however, when the dance started. If it was hard ignoring his ‘assets’ before, it would be impossible now. His feet largely remained planted, his wings remained raised somewhere above his head, and his tail feathers even lifted up to give a more... ‘complete’ view of his rear. His hips and midriff began shaking in a serpentine motion, proudly bumping out his hips with each swing. A mellifluous hummed tune emanated from his closed mouth, making both the sight and sound of him entrancing. He swung between gently rocking and outright gyrating that round ass of his, which I was able to see more and more clearly as he slowly spun in a 180 to give everyone a chance to see his good side (which seemed to be every side, honestly!) He stopped his rotation when his backside faced me, and it was that sight that really turned my adoration into passion. The chocolatey flow of his slender shoulders to his flexible midriff to his flared hips to his toned thighs... With embarrassed honesty, I came dangerously close to letting the dam between my legs spill out right then and there. For better or worse, the dance came to a close, but not before he gave a final pose of looking mischievously over his shoulder at me, finger on his chin and hand on his hip. Amidst the hoots and hollers that crescendoed with the closing of the act, I reflected that I was being tempted by this harpy boy; such a face could mean nothing else. Why he was tempting me I couldn’t tell, but honestly, if at that moment he had asked for anything short of the world in exchange for even just one night of me having him, then my infatuated self likely would’ve taken the deal.

When the cheers died down, however, my unreasonable admiration mostly cooled as well, although not entirely. “Ok everyone, we’ve had our fun today, let’s get packed up and ready to sail!” To my relief, complaints were non-existent, as everyone contentedly went to whatever duty they were expected of. Even the harpy boy bounced off the barrel and seemed to be trotting off somewhere. I was intending to keep an eye on where he went, but suddenly my first mate, Osa, sidled up to me and placed a hand on my shoulder.

“Hoo-wee captain, you look as red as a beet!” Despite being her captain, she was only about ten years younger than I, so she saw me more like a “cool aunt” than an authoritative figure. This leads her to be bolder in nature than one would expect in a conversation between leader and subordinate. “He really was a hottie, wasn’t he?”

“Yes, sure. Did he... did he say, or well, share what he was here for?”

She shrugged. “Kinda just swooped in. I was helping tie down the cargo when I heard a bit of commotion outside. When I got there was when he hopped up the barrel and started sharing his goods.”

“Well then,” I said. “...Where did he go?”

We both scanned the area in front of us, which while populated with many things and people, lacked the harpy boy. “Welp... guess we aren’t getting an encore.” She took a look at my countenance, and added, “And you’re not getting any ‘private’ time with him, captain.”

I crossed my arms. “Osa, I may be humble enough to admit my base desires, but I’m not a whoremonger.”

She lifted her hand and crossed her arms in return. “Yeesh, don’t hafta call him a whore, captain.”

“That’s not what I...” I let out a sigh. Osa was vexing sometimes, but she usually meant well. Usually.

Suddenly, another of the crew called out from the deck. “Hoy, captain!”

I craned my neck to him, one of the beefy gentlemen that worked as a midshipman. “Yes, Mr. Keetes?” (Formality was a strange thing on my ship, as a good portion of my crew were older than me, and I afforded respect to them by addressing them by the last name)

“That harpy boy, he’s kicking about on deck here!”

I cupped a hand to my mouth and projected my voice, “He’s on the ship? What’s he doing?”

“He’s...” He turned around, no doubt expecting to be able to answer, but he looked for a second and threw up his arms. “Where’d he go?”

I sighed, yet again. “Osa, you mind keeping an eye open for that harpy? Just make sure he doesn’t cause any trouble. I’m going to my room.”

She gave a salute as she waltzed off. “Aye aye, I’ll keep my eyes peeled.”

I walked up the gangplank at a more sluggish pace than her, and by the time I reached the deck, she was already proceeding below into the ship. I reached my cabin, and passing by my bedroom I was planning to go over the map in a review, only to have my eyes be greeted by a surprise.

The harpy boy was there, rather unceremoniously plopped on top of my desk. He had one of my maps fashioned in the shape of a mock spyglass and was peeping about the room before he noticed my approach. Now he had his toy, being my map, directed at my face. He stretched his mouth into a rather goofy grin and stuck his tongue out as well. I found myself rather struck by his cute innocence, even if I knew but mere minutes earlier he was giving a sensual dance in public.

Nevertheless, I placed my hands on my hips, determined to lay down who was the captain here. “Sir put down that map, you’re not allowed to toy with that and you’re certainly not allowed in here.” He did not follow my orders, rather he pretended to “adjust” the zoom on his “spyglass.” Having no other choice, I marched towards him, and to his credit, he didn’t seem the slightest bit fazed by my attempt to metaphorically puff out my chest. Given that his grip on the map was rather gentle, I luckily was able to swipe it out of his hands rather easily, and without the paper tearing. Placing the map down on the table, I then picked him up by his arm (or wing, I suppose) and pulled him off the table. Given he was only an inch or two shorter than me he was surprisingly light, but I suppose being lightweight is a must have for avian creatures. Indeed, seeing that I could rather easily lift him as one could lift a chicken, I decided that simply carrying him out of the room would be appropriate enough. As I walked towards the door I informed him, “You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay on this ship.” Opening the entrance, I plopped him down on the floorboards outside. He turned around and looked me in the eyes, a look of soft confusion on his face. I closed the door, swiftly but not harshly, and turned away. I thought for a few moments and felt that maybe I was being too intimidating to who was just a curious local, but I reasoned to myself that it had to be done; if I gave him much longer to work his charm on me, I could’ve done something like make him captain of the ship!

I took only a step before I heard a knock on the door. Most likely it was the harpy boy again, hoping for the chance to be let back in. I opened the door, just enough to poke my head out. “No, you're not allowed to...”

I looked and saw that there was Osa, lifting the harpy boy in pretty much the same way I was. “Found ‘im!”

“Well... good, I suppose. Just drop him off the ship then.”

Osa gave a bit of puppy dog eyes, even though the harpy boy seemed somewhat blissfully unaware of why he was being manhandled by us two ladies. “Aww, but he seems so eager to be a part of the crew! I found him here, starting at the door. He must know you’re the boss and wants to ask you to bring him along!”

I opened the door all the way; evidently, this was going to be a long conversation, and my defensive position behind the door wasn’t very comfortable. “Do you think he has any marketable skills?”

Osa lifted him up a bit higher, which still failed to trouble him. “Oh, I think those skills of his are very marketable, the very definition of marketable even!”

“I mean as a sailor. For what good reason do I have to make a spot for him here?”

She gave a casual shrug with both arms, still holding him; evidently, the boy was even lighter than I figured. “I dunno, you’re the captain! I’m sure you could just keep him around for, you know... stuff!”

“I’m not taking advantage of a simple native boy for love, Osa.”

This time, Osa blushed like a beet. “Now, that’s not what I’m saying here!” Her expression showed that that was what she was saying here. “Besides, he doesn’t even look that young; I reckon he’s only, like, a few years younger than you!” Indeed, the only reason I called this individual ‘harpy boy’ was that he was rather small in build and mischievous in nature; by logical scrutiny, he probably was about 25 years old, which made the younger Osa’s lifting of him seem even more strange. “And as we both know, adults have the right to their own life decisions, and his current life decision is to be here!”

I took a deep breath in, considered the risks and benefits, and breathed out. I looked the harpy boy dead in the eyes. “I’m not paying you.” He gave a shrug of his shoulders; evidently, he was getting the rough idea of what I was saying. “However, you can stay, and we can feed you.” A deep joy seemed to bubble up from his tummy to his head, and he let out an excited trill. Swinging himself off of Osa’s grasp, he rushed past my side into the room, and plopped himself down in the same spot and picked up my map again to play spyglass with it. “But for the last time, you can’t play with the maps!”

As I marched over to my desk, Osa dismissed herself by saying “Well, I’ll leave you two to your own devices, I still have some knots to tie down...” Inside the cabin, I wrenched my map out of his hands for the second time today. Placing it back down, a brief and awkward pause lingered between us as he stared at me, curious about my next move. As I thought about it, I realized that there was one thing I didn’t need at this moment he could use; my actual spyglass. Fishing it out of my pouch, I handed it to him. “Here, you can have fun with this. Just don’t break it! Those are highly expensive.”

He shook his head up and down rapidly, clearly both excited and honored at the gift. As I straightened out the map and organized my navigation tools, I noticed out of the corner of my eye he was using the spyglass to look at me. I tried to see if staring back would dissuade his bothersome gaze, but it seemed that my response only made him giddier, grinning wide in return. I rolled my eyes; he was charmingly innocent, but feigned disinterest was what I needed to stay focused.

My disinterest could only last so long, however, for an hour or two passed by and the harpy boy was delighting himself by investigating this new environment for him. He toyed with the spyglass for only a minute (which was a relief, in a sense), and after that, he was testing out each piece furniture (which included my bed), was flipping through each book (at a speed where he couldn’t possibly be actually reading them), fiddling with each trinket he found along the shelves. All the while, he cooed with interest at each little thing and hummed to busy the room with song. Was it distracting? In a sense, but only in the way that a sunny day distracts a school child from their lecture. It was as I figured; give him too much time in a room with you, and his charm will convince you that he’s the most important thing in the world. Blissfully, just as I had felt familiar with our route back (which was a decent bit different than our route to here), a knock on the door came that I was expecting.

Osa’s voice peeked into the room, “We’re all set to go, captain, just waiting on your signal!”

I stepped away from the table and started heading for the door. “Excellent, I’ll be at the helm shortly.” As I walked, I heard the clickety-clack of the harpy boy’s talons behind me. Sure enough with a turn of my head, I saw him following close behind me as if he found that attending to me was a given. A rush coursed through my heart, one that for the first time in a long time I couldn’t understand; his sensual dancing and lighthearted shenanigans were expectedly attractive, but this sudden eager attention to my actions struck a chord inside that I don’t believe had ever been struck before.

I strode up the stairs to the helm, the harpy boy still intent in following me. I reached the wheel and started running through the orders necessary for us to start sailing; pulling in the gangplanks, lowering sails, weighing anchor. In but a minute, we were pulling out and heading on our way back home. At least, it was home for most of us. My hands steering the wheel, I checked to see how the harpy boy was holding up. His attention was off of me, and instead, he was leaning over the aft railing and waving a ‘goodbye’ to his home. It was then I realized the gravity of what I was doing; even if he wants to come along, it would be very difficult for him to make it back. I’ve heard that harpies are capable of migrating great distances, but would he be able to come back here again? Would there be anyone that’ll miss him? Will they think he’s gone missing? With all the troubled thoughts clouding my head, I remembered what Osa said; ‘adults have the right to their own life decisions, and his current life decision is to be here!’ Judging by his waving, he seemed to understand very well it could be a while before he returned. Whether it was a calling to adventure or the attraction he felt for me (I’m humble, but not dense) or a little bit of both, he got on this ship for a reason and he’s sticking with it. So, being the gentlewoman that I am, I’ll do my best to accommodate him.

About a half hour later, the island was becoming distant, and the harpy boy finally moved from the railing back to my side. A handful of the crew was on deck, and when one of them noticed that he was on the ship, he called out, “Hoy captain, we’re keeping the harpy!?”

I called back from behind the wheel, “Yes, it seems that way.”

Of the handful of them, a good chunk of them raised their arms and let out a “Hurray!”

I raised a finger. “However, he won’t be sleeping below deck with you brutes.”

The same chunk lowered their arms and sighed “Aww...”

I finished with “But, that doesn’t mean he won’t join us for dinner time.”

They raised their arms again, “Hurray!” Leaving off on a high note was the secret to good morale. Soon midday became evening, and sure enough, the chef began ringing the dinner bell. I tied the wheel down towards our course and proceeded down the stairs. While the harpy boy became minorly distracted over the passing few hours, my movement caught his attention immediately. He followed closely behind me as I headed below deck, while many others were also making their way downstairs. Of all the places on the ship, I had to admit that the dining hall was the coziest, at least when it was dinner hours. The candlelights kept the room lit but not too bright, and the crew was busy in conversation but not too raucous. At least, not until the drinks would set in later into the night, but by then I usually will have retired to my room. There were some nights I had enjoyed being in a drunken row with my crew, but tonight I felt wouldn’t be one of those nights.

What some of the crew were most interested in was the native we brought aboard. Luckily it was far from all of them, and they were restrained in their interest of him; it was hardly a matter of warding them off with a stick to keep them from siccing themselves on the lone harpy boy. Regardless, he seemed to enjoy their attention, as he was accepting song and dance requests left and right. I had none myself; it was a blessing to see him perform anything, at least to me it was. I noted that others of the crew paid little attention to all the commotion on our end of the room; evidently, the harpy boy’s charm only worked so well on some people, which I suppose is to be expected. Again, it’s a fortunate thing that I didn’t have to worry about wrenching him out of the hands of a captive, thirsty audience.

Soon enough, drunkenness and sleepiness worked it’s way into the crew, and everyone was slowly dispersing to their place of choice, whether that was their bed, a quiet corner of the ship, or for a few unfortunate souls their lookout position. I excused myself to head back to my cabin, to which the harpy boy once again responded to with immediately following me. Some of the crew who were both still there and still awake were a tinge disappointed, but outside of that, there was no more trouble for the rest of the night. The harpy boy even waved goodbye to the crew at the table we sat at, to which they gratefully (if a little drunkenly) waved back. It occurred to me I needed a place for the harpy boy to sleep; I took one of the hammocks that weren’t taken and hauled it up with me.

Reaching the cabin, I said to my close follower, “Now, I'm not going to make you sleep in this, you can take my bed instead. I’ll just be setting this up outside my bedroom for your privacy. I’m sure a man like you needs that for his beauty sleep or whatever they call it.” As pleasurable it could’ve been, I decided that I would be polite and not press for us to share the same bed. He gave me a blank stare to my statement, but I went ahead and figured he understood what I meant. I found a few spare beams to hold up the hammock and began securing it, but the harpy boy’s close presence distracted me a bit. “That’s your bed back there, umm...” Pausing a bit in confusion, it occurred to me a minor miracle had happened; the whole day had passed and I never actually learned the name of this person that had fascinated me and others so much. He was such a strange and exotic being, and as we knew next to nothing about his culture, ‘harpy boy’ seemed just as legitimate an identifier as an actual name. However, I figured that continuing to think of him as that would not be appropriate for long. “Say, do you have a name or anything like that?” He recognized my question and gave a nod of his head. “...Would you be kind enough to share with me your name?” He nodded again and gave out a two-note bird call, signaling that was his name. Untrained as my ears were, I had to ask, “Could you repeat that?”

He was happy to oblige, nodding his head and then taking in a deep breath. He gathered his focus on what was a moment of serene silence, and then what welled up past his lips in an almost human voice was “Syyyyriiiie!”

The sound of it struck me a little; it was the first time something even remotely human sounding came out of his mouth, and it was a beautiful sound as well; soft, yet full of life! I repeated it back to him, “Syrie?” He nodded very enthusiastically, excited to have communicated successfully. “Well then, Syrie, you may sleep in this bed here.” I tried to more directly gesture by opening my bedroom door and pointing straight towards the bed. He got the picture and flopped down onto the bed. “Well then, I hope you have a good night’s sleep.” I closed the door and extinguished all the candles in my cabin save for one; having at least one was nice if I needed to move about at some point during the night. Laying back in the hammock, even though it was a different sleep experience that was I was used to, sleep nonetheless easily overtook me for a good while.

That is until some disturbance slowly roused me from my slumber. I was unsure what it was, but I could feel some sort of weight pressed down on top of my body. Knowing I had not brought a blanket, I felt for what it could be when my hand brushed over both feathers and skin, and I could feel the slight expansion and contraction of a breathing creature’s chest. My mind alerted my heart, and my heart alerted my body, and soon I was 100% awake with the realization that Syrie had decided to come to my hammock and sleep on top of me. Not wanting to throw Syrie off but also immensely flustered by his close presence, I found myself a bit helpless. Even at that moment, I understood in retrospect that such forwardness was to be expected; we were clearly smitten with each other but neither of us would say it out loud, and honestly, the way I phrased it he likely thought that staying in the bed was up to him and he apparently felt like sleeping on me was better than sleeping there. “Harpy culture must be a strange, strange thing indeed,” I thought to myself.