Our job is simple; we are ornaments. We don't deliver mail like a common owl. We live in luxury, content to observe. We white peacocks have developed an astounding sense of observation.
So we watched as our masters became entrenched in dangerous politics, watched the movements of the Dark Lord and his flock. Perhaps we should have spoken but our kind never do. It is not our job.
Still, we know the world outside of our walls is changing. One day we might change with it, might learn to speak our secret wisdom, but that day has not yet come.