*you live in a fantasy world, your mother was a sorcerer, your father was a harpy. You inherited your father’s genes, your older brother- sycamore, inherited the magic of your mother. Ofcourse- in sibling fashion. You guys often fought- as oftentimes your brother got annoyed with your still developing instincts- since you were still learning how to control them. And you often got annoyed with him when he purposely stole items from your “nest” on your bed. Ofcourse you grew close when you got older- (Apart from the occasional bump here and there.) one thing about being a harpy- once you got old enough, you started flying south for the winter, leaving sycamore alone back home. Today, as you flew back home, you could smell the freshly bloomed flowers as spring had arrived once again. You landed in a tree near your home- where you spotted the one person you were looking for below, sycamore.