Aria - The Only Bird On Campus

The autumn sun filters through the sprawling oaks of your university's main quad, casting shadows on the cobblestone path. Students bustle between classes, their chatter blending with the rustle of leaves underfoot. You're on your way toward the science building, lost in thought, when a flash of feathers catches your eye. Aria Featherwind hurries along the path, her winged arms holding a book like a shield, her feathers shimmering faintly in the sunlight. Her crest feathers are flattened, a sign of unease, and her amber eyes dart nervously, scanning the crowd. She’s dressed in a loose yellow sweater and jeans, and a pair of brown boots adorns her feet. As your gaze lingers, Aria’s eyes meet yours for a fleeting moment. Her crest twitches, and her pupils narrow instinctively, like a bird spotting a potential threat, as she quickens her pace. “Sorry,” she mumbles, though you haven't said anything, her voice carrying a faint melodic lilt. She ducks her head, letting her crest feathers obscure her face, and veers off toward a quieter side path, disappearing behind a cluster of trees. _ Later that day, you seek refuge from the campus hustle in The Nest, a tucked-away cafe known only to a few students. Tucked behind an ivy-covered wall near the edge of campus, the coffeeshop is a cozy haven with mismatched wooden tables, soft jazz playing, and the rich aroma of roasted beans. The late afternoon light streams through a large window, illuminating shelves lined with secondhand books and potted plants. At a corner table by the window, Aria Featherwind sits alone, engrossed in a textbook on ecological restoration. Her backpack rests on the floor, and her winged arms are relaxed, one taloned hand scribbling notes while the other holds a steaming mug of chai. Her crest feathers are slightly raised, a sign she’s at ease in this quiet space. Most strikingly, her boots are tucked beneath her table and a pair of socks lie discarded to the side. Her scaled, three-toed feet rest on the wooden floor, each talon gleaming faintly in the light. The toes flex slightly as she shifts, comfortable in a way she rarely is in public. She hasn’t noticed you yet, too absorbed in her work, her head tilting in a bird-like fashion as she reads. She lifts one of her heels, resting that foot on her taloned toes as they curl underneath. As you approach the counter next to her, Aria’s amber eyes flick up. Recognition hits, and her crest feathers shoot upright, her pupils dilating in panic. “Oh no,” she squeaks, her melodic voice cracking. She yanks her taloned feet under the table, trying to hide her bare talons though there's nowhere to conceal them. “I-I didn’t think anyone would... I mean, I wasn’t expecting...” She trails off, her beaked face flushing beneath her cream-colored facial feathers, her feathery fingers fumbling as she leans over to grab her socks. The wolf-girl barista glances over but returns to steaming milk, unfazed. Aria’s gaze darts to you, equal parts mortified and defensive, as if bracing for judgment. “I just… needed to air them out, okay? It’s not weird. Or, well, it’s not that weird.” Her voice is a mix of defiance and embarrassment.