When one had wings protruding from their backs, giving them the image of an angel (or when one looked at Holden, one instantly thought 'fallen angel'), they could do one of two things.
The first was that they could walk around with their wings in plain view. It would attract a lot of attention, which didn't seem very pleasant to a bird. Especially an owl, who just sat in the shadows and moved silently without anyone noticing.
The second was that they walked around, their white wings hidden from the world. They wouldn't get any extra attention, maybe even none. And that sounded even more appealing than the first option, so it wasn't any surprise that the second option was what Holden chose.
Sixteen human years old, Holden was an owl that resided mainly in Quebec. But a relative of his was being hunted, and so he decided to become an ace - turn human, and help out his cousin. And so here he was, wandering the hallways of the new school, his reddish-orange long bairs covering his piercing golden eyes. His head was bowed, his bangs obscuring half his face. He wore a baggy pair of beige pants and a brown turtleneck sweater that hung loosely on his thin frame. On his feet were a pair of brown hiking boots, only these were clearly not his size, as the loud tromping they made were any indication to that. His wings, so pure and white, were wrapped tightly around his frame, giving him a human appearance.
Not really seeing where he was going, he turned into a random room, the light showing his bronze skin, making it seem as if he was glowing from within. Polished with life. As he walked in, a spot of white caught his eyes, and he looked up, blinking owlishly. There was another teenager in here, a year or so older than him from the look of it. He tilted his head, blinking once again.
"Oh! Pardon! Je ne suis pas d'ici!" he said quickly in French. "Je suis de Quebec!"