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 Posted: Tue May 20, 2008 3:20 pm
Foxfeather gripped the wood beneath him tightly and struggled to avoid speaking something that would make it much harder to view these youngsters in action.
Still, he found little control over his words.
"No, they don't make 'em any prettier than Deep Woods. I am surprised and ashamed in one of my own type. Wildtype may be the oldest and the pure type, so one would think a wildtype would have sense enough to stay within his type. Deep Woods, too."
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Posted: Tue May 20, 2008 4:06 pm
Liam blinked. It took him a few moments to process the insult. Dear Noctus... this was one of those typeists... He didn't want to lose control, especially in front of the fledglings, but one of the few things he couldn't stand in other Sentinels was type-related intolerance. He'd been raised among Abberants, and had seen them be just as strong as pure types, as well as having some of the best characters he'd ever seen. Heck, his father's best friend and partner in Minding had been an Abberant. He'd been one of Liam's most important influences, with the way he raised chicks, and Liam always listed him as one of the greatest influences on his life.
"Oh. So you see things that way. Personally, I believe that love is colorblind, as we all should be. What difference does it make if your love is of a different pattern? It's more important to raise strong chicks that will contribute to the Clan than it is to raise chicks of an obvious color."
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Posted: Tue May 20, 2008 4:11 pm
"Usually aberrants are sickly little things. Very few are strong and intelligent enough to provide for the greater good. You set poor example for your charges with such foolishness." His voice was soft and steady, but held a simple and matter of fact tone. His words rolled from his beak easily, as it had been an ideal instilled in him from as early as his hatching days. His mother and father had been just as he is, Deep Woods type, and both took their types seriously, as their mothers and fathers before them. And their mothers and fathers before their mothers and fathers, and so on.
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Posted: Tue May 20, 2008 4:16 pm
"An Aberrant is only a sickly thing if not raised right, and intelligence has nothing to do with type. My fledglings seen in Hazel and myself an example of a loving couple who works around the differences in their schedules to uphold the principles of our culture." Liam set his eartufts back a bit, keeping his voice as steady and hiss-free as he could. "We're colorblind here in this enclave, a value instilled in each of these fledglings and all of the hatchlings, a value that might do some Sentinels some good to come to appreciate. What good does it do to discriminate against any part of the clan?"
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Posted: Tue May 20, 2008 4:20 pm
"The aberrants, I pity them. There have been many too sickly to survive, others are not strong enough to serve the clan. It does not always depend on the minders, but the offspring." His own voice was calm and hiss free.
"The parents of such birds should be ashamed of themselves for creating such hybrids. You may be colorblind, but not all sentinels turn a blind eye to such a pandemic in our clan. You set a poor example for our future adults." His eartufts sat back slightly, but he preened his chest feathers easily.
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Posted: Tue May 20, 2008 4:45 pm
"The last thing any Aberrant wants is pity... especially when it comes from one like you," Liam said coldly, glaring at the Deep Woods male. "It's Sentinels like you that make others think that Aberrants are some kind of disease. If you'd ever spoken to one, you'd understand that they, like all Sentinels, serve the clan to the best of their capability. Would you have a weak Wildtype culled, just because it wasn't up to combative par? That's why bards and crafter positions exist; for those without the physical or internal drive to be combatives." He shifted his weight a bit and cleared his throat. While the fledglings weren't watching him, really, it wouldn't do to allow them to see him getting upset. He intentionally ignored the slurs against himself, knowing that any response to that would blow up in his face.
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Posted: Tue May 20, 2008 6:44 pm
Foxfeather merely grinned, but his eyes flashed with slight anger. "Tell that to those that are unable to fly correctly, are small and sickly when they are born. Do you really think their parents had best in mind when they laid said eggs and produced said hatchlings and fledglings."
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Posted: Sun May 25, 2008 9:06 pm
Liam was silent for a moment. As cruel and shallow as the other bird was, he was right. There were many Aberrants who just didn't have the stamina needed for simple living, let alone aiding the Clan. "No parent ever thinks that there will be anything wrong with their child. What they have in mind when they lay those eggs is their love creating something beautiful. Look around at our current crop of Aberrants in the enclaves sometime- they're a beautiful bunch of upstanding young Sentinels. It is unfortunate that some hybrids are born weak, but even a Wildtype can be imperfect." He shut his beak abruptly, narrowing his eyes and staring at Foxfeather. He would have to calculate his next remark carefully.
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Posted: Tue May 27, 2008 3:13 pm
And calculate he did. Although his words were sharp, they had been instilled in him when he was but a hatchling. He was almost like a broken record and was not always the brightest, but he always had the clan's best interest in mind, even if he was shallow.
"They might think they are creating something beautiful, but tell that to the little one who is shoved out of the nest and left to die, or the fledgling who cannot keep up with the rest of his or her class. An imperfect wildtype is a shame and is not unheard of, but such imperfections seem all too common in the mixtyped little aberrants. Poor dears. The lot of them. And so... Odd in appearance. Never knowing what to call themselves. Wildtype? Deep Woods? Shadow or Mist, even? No, they can't take pride in their heritage without seeing that it is imperfect, due to the poor thinking of their parents. If their parents cared completely about the betterment of their offspring and the future of their clan, they would stick with their own type." His scalding words were spoken gently, as if that would lessen the insult that he was giving. He also spoke with the kindest language he could, to influence the flegdglings present, in hopes of instilling pity and disgust for aberrants in them. There was a little one he had hope for. Crawly was a ghost type, but showed promise.
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