The harpy's wings thwacked against the metal bars of his cage with a pathetic, painful sound. The soft cry that fell from his throat afterward was even worse.
"As you can see, we caught a harpy." The ringmaster's rough voice grated out of his throat like gravel in a blender. His cigarette-stained teeth flashed between chapped lips as he spoke. "Make sure he gets fed twice a day, and keep his feathers groomed. We won't make much off of him if he looks bad."
He certainly didn't look bad. The stormy gray of his plumage was occasionally sliced through with brilliant crimson accents as he thrashed around in the cage. It was hard to tell with him moving so much, but it seemed like the whole underside of his wings might be that beautiful blood-red color.
The ringmaster pushed a large brass key into your hands. "For the cage," he grunted. "If you lose it, the replacement comes out of your paycheck."
And with that, he left you alone with the harpy.
(Profile pic drawn by @nudeerah on Instagram! Check out linktr.ee/nudeerah for her other socials!)
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