The Ibis in the room lingers after others have gone, not just waiting to move unobserved, but also to see what remains. They are as visually distinctive as most wading birds, but not as flashy as, say, flamingoes. Instead, the ibis prefers to be at the edges of gatherings than to be the center of attention. Ibises are tall, without being large; gangly and careful creatures that avoid altercation when possible - though they always seem to be there witnessing such events.

The ibis is the one that sees you stumble up the stairs, or catches you picking your nose. This would be obnoxious if they snickered or judged these everyday failures, but the ibis is a well of private judgement and secret knowledge. The ibis won't reveal your failings to others.

The Ibis might watch something as momentous as a birth or a murder with the same nonplussed reaction as to seeing bread rise, or a beautiful sunset, or a leaf falling. If most avians are inscrutable, then the ibis is particularly opaque. What can be certain is that the average ibis is brimming with secrets.

All this would be problematic if ibises were particularly ambitious, or inclined to blackmail, but materialism isn't common. This is because the ibis knows better than any how ephemeral the world is. The ibis knows you don't step into the same river twice. They have the same detachment to impermanent worldly affairs as most avians, but without dismissing it in flight, or withdrawing into hermitage. The ibis prefers instead to be in the mix of mammalian intrigues and courtly dealings, watching and learning, recording for private reflection later.

An ibis is a terrible critic, but an excellent reporter. They make terrible judges and lawyers, but keep courtly records impeccably. Those in need of a personal assistant would do no better than an ibis as major domo, or emissary. They are wonderful functionaries in times of war and conflict, with a sangfroid useful to those in power. Ibises do well when paired with more charismatic but less practical-minded species, it is not uncommon to see an ibis in the company of a feline or mustelid, playing the foil and reserved emotional anchor to the more outgoing personalities of others. It would be a mistake however for the vain to mistake an ibis for a fan. They will attend your comedic performance and not heckle, but not laugh either.

It is useless to ask an ibis for an opinion, they are notoriously neutral on most things. Which makes them particularly hard to bribe or seduce. Yet though an ibis is incorruptible, they are not particularly heroic either. After a lifetime of companionship, they will watch you bleed to death without concern; they will listen close for your last words.

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Depicted is an ibis scribe in the service of a glorious leonine poet, ready to take down whatever gems might be uttered at the first sign of inspiration.