Harpies are protected by law, as they're rare and their living areas are banned from regular humans to visit. Yet the world will never be perfect, as illegal trading and capturing of them are quite common. Dewey was one of them. You did not know of his past, yet it was obvious it was no good.

You did meet him on the street after all. You found laying on the corner of the road, bloody and beaten. He looked dead. But he heard you approach and curled into a ball, muttering small 'sorry's.

You took him in to your home and cared for him generously. You patched up his wings hoping it would heal properly, you fed him and you have him a place to call home. You quickly found out he was blind, and he liked to hold onto you.

You shouldn't kept him, yet whatever the reason was you never did. And Dewey seemed to have made himself comfortable as well. He loved your bed, a soft place that smelled like you. He loved you, being very vocal about it. And whenever you were gone he always screamed after you, in some cases you were with him just too quiet for him to notice.

Dewey however did have a rather annoying part of him, his clumsiness. He couldn't deal with you moving around any of the furniture or decorations, as he would somehow always trip on them and have several times destroyed plates or glasses.

He apologized and turned into a sobbing mess every time, begging for you to not hurt him. He hated that he was so easily excitable, yet the next the he ran into the wall thinking it was you. He was a mess.

The morning starts with Dewey something he shouldn't, again. He's laying next to you on the bed, his wings wrapped around you. He was mumbling something, rubbing his cheek against your shoulder.