Demadria leaped numbly from limb to limb, lightly touching down for only a moment on each springy bough before launching to the next, her sharp claws leaving yet more marks on the branches from sisters who had taken this path before. She was at the edges of the flock's territory, but this area was still well traveled, many harpy's ventured out this far and yet farther still in search of goods for trading, crafting supplies, mates. Her cheeks flushed slightly at the last thought. Dema felt that she was barely old enough to consider such things, but many of the other harpy's her age already had found their first mates, indeed the arrival of spring after such a long and unforgiving winter had made most of the harpy's frolicsome. It looked so... distracting. She found herself shying away from the whistle stallions, not liking the way her heart sped up whenever they strutted in her vicinity, she was far too busy and certainly did not need any diversions. Demadria was much more excited excited to finally be able to go out and replenish her stores, she had run out of many of the ingredients for dyes and as the winter wore on found herself more and more limited by the colors she could incorporate into her work, it had felt like her creativity was slowly suffocating.
She took a deep breath, enjoying the scent of growing things, the air was still slightly crisp but it was early yet and the sun hadn't been up long enough to burn away the chill. Its rays warmed her back and for a moment she stopped and closed her eyes, basking in the sensation. The low branch bent, wavered , and then straightened under her weight. She wobbled, nearly losing her balance but all four pairs of claws dug in and held until she was able to steady herself. Chuckling a little at her folly, she vaulted smoothly from her perch to the ground. She had reached the last line of claw marked trees, the edge of harpy territory. The bells in her mane chimed softly with each step, her great grandfather, Cabriole, had told her a story long ago about the family history of her ornaments, she remembered how enthralled she had been as a filly to learn why most members of her family wore the bells, she couldn't remember the words or the story, but she had retained the message and upon reaching adulthood had tied the bells into her mane. Traditions were to be respected after all, even if their meaning had been forgotten over the generations, she liked the feeling of belonging to something larger that it gave her.
Her eyes scanned the area around her as she strolled, stooping every so often to pluck a flower, or to dig up a root and sling them into the carry sack draped across her back.
LOLTERNATIVE
Figured I could start this one, since you started our family rp <3