Post by Waterfrost on Dec 14, 2010 22:44:27 GMT
(YAY! My first rp post! Here it goes....correct me if I'm wrong on some things..... :P)
A dark, starless night captured the scene perfectly. It was just right to set the mood of the remnants. It was nearly pitch black out, barely enough light for a creature to roam around, but the thin line of an owl's silhouette was noticeable. The stillness of the animal was enough to mistake it for a large rock. Owls had easy night vision, of course, but the stillness was the same. Once thoroughly examined, one would still think the animal was a rock against the clear, black sky because of the dark pigment in its feathers.
This is what young Coyote prided himself in. The tyto alba was no ordinary remnant. His feathers were neither as light and pure as that of his kind nor his own parents. Unlike most tyto albas, there was not an inch of white visible to the eyes on his body unless you counted the small amount of white feathers under his wings that were nearly always hidden from view until he took flight. The rest of him was of a mixture of gray and dark orange. The orange covered his face only to be mixed with dark gray on the edges and into the rest of his head as it was with his belly, which was mostly gray with a few spots of orange blended in nicely.
Coyote was considered "impure," but he simply deflected the comments and funny looks, for he knew he contained much greatness inside him. His dark feathers were just the perfect mask for a Turnfeather. No one could question his allegiance; most owls chucked melanistic hatchlings out of their nest, and the remnants were far from an exception. His looks worked toward his advantage and were perfect in his opinion, but no one saw it his way, and his father certainly never gave him the chance to explain. Did that matter? Not to Coyote.
As all remnants are brought up, he believed that the only pure owls were of the tyto family, alba being the highest. He believed this fiercely and knew he would do something great in his life, but his ambitions were held tightly by a rope by his father with little room to wriggle forward.
The Turnfeather's eyes turned to slits at the thought of his father. His father....the one who caused his sister's death....did he even care? No. Not from what he could tell. He didn't even care about his own son, his heir. From all the attention Coyote got from his father, haha, yeah right, he came up with the conclusion that he wished he had died too.
Well, he didn't care either, so it was all fine and dandy. Besides, his time was unraveling before his very own eyes. The day he would begin his mission to join the guardians and turn against them, as was his Turnfeather duties, was getting nearer and nearer. It was his mission. No one else's. He would succeed. He would gain the trust and acceptance of the remnants as their future leader. This mission was just the first step to the young tyto alba's plan. It was the first flight.
It was this that Coyote thought as he gazed out into the darkness, perched on a large branch of an oak tree, overlooking the terrain when the prickling sensation of eyes resting on his back rippled through him. The gray owl only had to turn his head to meet the eyes of the high tyto, his father.
(is his feather color the reason Azazel thinks he's impure? I kinda just guessed...but I can change it. I also know he dislikes him because he's rebellious :P)
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