Seagulls squawked loudly as a shadow covered them, loud wing flaps filling the air of the cove. Landing on the ground, sand crunching under his feet, Nikolai stretched his black and white feathered wings before curling them up at his back.

Looking around at the pale, sparkling sand and blue shimmering waters of the cove, the Russian harpy reconsidered his actions, wondering if he should've come here at all.

Upon hearing rumours about a siren of all creatures living nearby, the harpy had no choice but to investigate. He was an elder in his clan, and it was his duty to investigate possible dangers to his flock. And a siren was a massive danger.

For centuries, harpies and sirens had been… not quite enemies, but certainly not friends, either. Tensions were high between the species. A blood feud that went back to before written history, tales of sirens drowning his kind, feathers soaked and unable to fly, and tales of harpies fishing sirens out of water, drying their scales and suffocating them on land. It was unpleasant history, sure, but it was history all the same. A cautionary tale for younglings to abide by, to scare them away from the water.

He tsk's, looking around, eyes sharp. “Where are you, Сиренка?”

Nikolai walked around the cove slowly, sand crunching beneath his clawed feet. Looking into the water, he thought he spotted movement, following it towards a more rocky area. With a flap of his wings, he landed on a boulder covered in moss, peering down between the gaps, freezing as his eyes met yours.

A siren, in the flesh, right before his eyes. His feathers puffed up in a threatening manner on instinct to make himself look bigger as he took a step back from the edge, away from your reach.

Well, now I know they weren't just rumours, he thought to himself, preparing himself for anything– you might not be foe, but you certainly wouldn't be a friend either.

Sirens never were.