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Post by vae on Jun 21, 2011 13:33:35 GMT -6
NAME. Narcissus (Narc for short)
GENDER. Male
AGE. 6.5 years old (Human equivalent 20 years old)
SPECIES. Pulsatrix perspicillata or Spectacled Owl
KINGDOM. None
POSITION. Loner
DESCRIPTION. 
A very dark-colored owl, Narc has dark brown feathers spread evenly over his entire top that stretches to a ring around his neck. His belly is covered with tan-yellow feathers breaking at his neckline and resuming in a much lighter color below his face. He has puffy white brows and round yellow eyes that don't miss a thing.
He's not the largest owl that has ever lived, but he is decently sized and has long talons and thick muscle. This owl can fight. At the base of his left wing is a thick, ugly scar that isn't covered by feathers. He has learned to fly while compensating, and can fly nearly as well as any other owl. Nearly.
PERSONALITY.
Narcissus has a very do-or-die personality. He hates it when others whine about their lives yet do nothing to fix it. It makes him enraged, and he often yells at those who complain. Which can be very scary, if you've made him angry enough. He's incredibly determined in everything he does, and he finishes everything he starts. It gives him a very strong personality, and a strong vibe in general. Though owls as emotionally stubborn as he is tend to be brutes with little personality; such is not the case with Narcissus.
Despite his name, Narcissus is actually very modest and cares about others a lot. He seems closed off and cold, but he's actually very kind and approachable. His undying determination makes him an excellent friend and a horrible enemy. He is personable and polite, and he often keeps his opinions to himself. He likes hearing others talk about themselves, but will probably not divulge much information about himself except to his friends, or those he feels like he, with his abnormally tunes instincts, can trust.
STRENGTHS.
- Strong & determined-- never gives up, hard to discourage
- Doesn't ruffle feathers-- keeps his beak out of others' business
- Strong aptitude for survival-- very tuned instincts & senses
WEAKNESSES.
- Stubborn-- refuses to give up on even the most hopeless of goals.
- Overestimates himself-- afraid of being weak or vulnerable, exhausts himself living up to his own expectations
- Trust issues-- finds it difficult to trust others with his life
HISTORY.
The upbringing of Narcissus was not the most pleasant, but it could have been worse. His mother could actually read the language of the Others, and especially loved the myths held in books she said were titled Mythology in Greek and Roman Ages. Her favorite story was that of a boy who was so vain as to turn down a beautiful nymph and fall in love with his own reflection, and when he died he turned into a beautiful flower, now called a Narcissus. She loved the story because she hated the character, Narcissus, and in the end he turned into a plant. How satisfying could you get?
She never wanted to be a mother, she didn't want owlets, they were a burden and did nothing but trouble mother owls for too long. Seeing them as selfish, greedy creatures that took, took, took, but never gave anything back. Tiny, loud monsters that never appreciated what was given to them because they were too wrapped up in their own little lives.
So powerful was her hatred for owlets, that when she had a egg of her own, she decided to spite him his entire life, starting with his name. She named him after the character she hated most, what she thought all children were like. She named him Narcissus, the epitome of selfishness, disgrace, and ungratefulness.
His mother was a crazy bitch, to put it mildly. She was obsessive and shrill, always micro-managing Narcissus' life and trying to know things. She came up with the most irritating nicknames, and never shut the hell up about how much she hated the mythological Narcissus. She was constantly verbally abusing him, putting him down, and making him feel generally awful.
"Narcy, why weren't you home by sundown?" "Hey, flower boy, why couldn't you just accept Echo's love?!" "Where's dinner, I thought you were supposed to be a strong owl and provide for us, Narc-narc." "You call that a catch? A boy sitting by a puddle staring at himself could catch a better rabbit than that. Oh but you would know all about that wouldn't you?"
Sometimes, when she was feeling particularly spiteful, she would fill the hollow with the flowers he was named after. The smell was so sickly and sweet that eventually even the slightest whiff of the smell would make him sick.
His father loved his son, but he also loved his mate for whatever reason. He taught Narcissus everything he needed to know to leave the hollow. Narcissus spent most of his juvenile life, too young to leave but too old to want to stay, in the forest, away from his mother. His father did not resent him for it. Nobody in the forest of Silverveil could dispute that Narcissus' mother was awful to him. He left the moment he was of age.
One day he returned because his father had sent for him, and the hollow was silent save for the sobbing of his father. Narcissus knew then what had happened. His mother had always been thin, unhealthy even, but had never struck him as emaciated before the day they she was cold as ice and would never utter another cruel phrase toward him again.
He attended her funeral for about five minutes, just long enough to greet his father and lay a single flower on her pyre. A beautiful flower that he had picked fresh from the forest floor. A flower he had something in common with. A shared name. A Narcissus.
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