love like woe (e'rro)

[Avu]

“Are they smart enough to realize we’re planning on dissecting one of their kind right in front of them?” Meira asked, and looked down at the gawky, uncoordinated pile of fluff and feathers in her lap to make sure just the words hadn’t triggered a reaction. It hadn’t; Echo was still content snuggled in the triangle formed by her legs, the soft down fluffed up around her, eyes half-closed, an occasional peep burbling out of her. The goldrider’s left hand was curled halfway around the warm, fragile body, both of Echo’s talons curled around her forefinger like the small Razorclaw was laying claim to it. “They seemed pretty smart—are pretty smart,” she corrected herself automatically, glancing down at Echo again, “We can’t—I mean, it’s going to be pretty traumatizing for a baby, isn’t it? And Echo’s not likely to take well to being blindfolded, I’d imagine.”

Sleep wait, Mimic suggested, safely curled against the back of E’rro’s neck where neither of the avians could reach him. He’d already learned his lesson after Echo faceplanted in a valiant attempt to get her beak on him. Fortunately, she was still far too young to be a proper huntress, and her failure had resulted in a very startled but perfectly okay Mimic and a disappointed Echo. All’s well that ends well, Meira had supposed, after frantically checking over a bemused Salamandyr for injuries. The Salamandyr chirped in E’rro’s ear. Wait, will watch, know if wake so hide evidence. Not need know, babies. Not that the prospect of dissecting a Razorclaw struck Mimic as an entirely appetizing plan, either, but he wouldn’t be traumatized, anyway.

“This one doesn’t sleep very long stretches,” Meira shrugged doubtfully, twitching the finger Echo had attached herself to. At least Echo couldn’t see over the top of the table—she supposed that meant they were relatively safe (at least, the Razorclaw hadn’t seen, or protested to, the dead avian sitting in front of them). “We’d have a little less than two hours, assuming the two of them keep the same schedule. Less, if they overlap.” She tapped her pencil anxiously against the piece of paper in front of her—she’d absently doodled images of what Echo and Thross looked like, with large dark eyes, soft baby’s down feathers, and their out-of-proportion, awkward bodies, talons that promised to be deadly in adulthood.

She’d also scribbled down what they’d been feeding them since their hatching, a fairly disgusting-looking mash that Mimic turned up his nose at and Jingth refused to acknowledge as being edible. Meira had mostly gotten over it—having to get up in two-hour stretches at every hour of the night and day did that. It also left her utterly exhausted. Didn’t remember Riaren being so demanding, but at least being sleep-deprived numbed absolutely everything. Except the niggling reminder in the back of her mind that she didn’t have to do this. That Echo wasn’t bonded tightly to her, if bonded at all, that taking care of Echo meant neglecting duties at the Council and in the Infirmary and just to the Weyr at large.

And somehow, even though she’d known that since the baby had hatched, Echo was still nuzzled in her lap, cuddled against the palm of her hand. This was absolutely ridiculous, loving an ugly, tiny, fragile creature, too demanding and too helpless. Loving it enough that she was hesitating to dissect a dead creature for fear of what Echo would take it as.

Could she just give up now?

[Tashe]

"I doubt it. They might be smart, but they only just hatched. Razerclaws may be more intelligent than the average bird, but I don't think hatch lings will be even close to the level Firelizard and Salamandyr babies are." With one hand he held the dead female's wing to full its fullest extension and with the other he was drawing out a life sized representation of the appendage. E'rro glanced away from his sketching to check up on his sleeping chick, making sure that the hatchling was still fast asleep in it's make shift nest. Since Thross had been born, the Brownrider had subconsciously been calling it a 'he'. It was like he knew without a hesitation that the androgynous hatchling was a male, but perhaps that was a benefit of the light bond they shared. "I doubt they'd be traumatized. Its not like they can see above the top of the table anyway." E'rro had purposely found a low lying stool to place the makeshift nest on so that his bird absolutely couldn't see even if he tried. "You can put Echo in Thross's nest if you want."

Mimic's voice entered his mind with the casual disregard all Salamandyrs seemed to have when it came to communicating. Apparently the Dragonhealer had done something to make the little Brown add him to it's best friend list... because now, every time he ran into Meira for any length of time, Mimic would transfer over and cling to him. The grumpy young man just wasn't used to pets other than his own, being so openly affectionate and crawling all over him. Well, there were times after he healed a Mandyr or a Firelizard that they were happy to shower him with thank yous and love, but they of course, left him alone after they exited the Infirmary. Not Mimic. "Waiting till they're asleep is a good idea Mimic, thanks."

He rotated the wing so he could better see the connection between the shoulder and the wing. Frowning, his eyes flickered to and from the bird with every millimeter he traced onto the paper. "Mmm... yeah." He said distractedly. "Well, Thross has been asleep for..." The Brownrider checked the candle he had lit as soon as the bird had gone into a snooze. "... twenty minutes?" He went back to drawing. "So it would give us an hour and a half, give or take with depending factors." A few moments of silence passed between them, causing E'rro to stop and glance over at the Goldrider. The look on her face betrayed some of what she was thinking about. "Hey, Mommybirdbrain. Daddybird needs an opinion on his drawing, he think it looks right but a second pair of eyes will help." E'rro flicked his pencil at the nest of twigs and fabric. "Put Echo in there, let her fall asleep next to Thross." Turning back to his sketch, he used the fine charcoal to fill in the markings on the wing, smudging the lines to blend them in better. With this wing finished, they'd have finished recreating the bird (with feathers attached) from both the view of its back and its underside.

[Avu]

She felt so…completely out of touch with animals not draconic. Meisk and Zesa had always understood why she did things; Jingth and Mimic did, too, now. And right now, Echo was intelligent, but not bonded as tightly as any of her previous mindmates, and it was just…scary, the idea that she’d hate her for anything. The goldrider nodded in quiet acknowledgement of E’rro’s words, finger tucking into the soft warm dip between Echo’s wing and her body, the hummingbird heartbeat thrumming. Didn’t immediately stand up to tuck the baby away, though; she’d already discovered Echo woke up frantic if she wasn’t right there, and she kind of liked the feeling of her heartbeat pressed against her fingers.

“Ah—” Meira cut herself off at the realization of exactly what it was E’rro had called her, and she couldn’t help the smile, startled with a sheepish edge. Mommybirdbrain. Fair enough. She uncurled from the chair, lifting Echo with her as the baby clacked her beak in sleepy surprise, talons clinging to her finger as the goldrider set down her pencil to one side of the carefully rendered close up of the still soft-looking beak, curled her hands under the small ball of fuzz. She croaked a hoarse, soft protest at being set down next to Thross, fell silent when Meira pressed her finger against her lips in an automatic ‘shh’ gesture. The chick’s eyes half-lidded as she bumped her body against Thross’s, wiggling in between him and the nearest nest ‘wall’ for security.

Will watch babies. Sneaky, Mimic said, and licked E’rro’s ear before he scampered off of the man’s shoulder, leaping to the table in a flutter of wings before he flopped down at the edge so he could peer over the edge at Echo and Thross, flat on his stomach.

“I give Mimic maybe five minutes before he falls asleep,” Meira muttered, the words intended for E’rro only to hear (Mimic needed the sleep as badly as she did, honestly, and she wasn’t going to rob him of that) as she leaned over to look at the picture, comparing it to the dead Razorclaw’s wing. “It looks good,” she decided after a moment. “Could I see a feather from the wing—wish we had something we could magnify it with.” Easy to fall back into the observations; working. Think of it objectively, and the confusion vanished. Setting down the long flight feather next to the other feathers—one from the soft breast, one from the tail, one from the body—she spun the feather around by the base before setting it down to start the sketch, scribbling short notes in the margins, an estimate of the length below it.

“Take a look?” Sneaking a quick glance down at Thross, Echo, and Mimic as she slid the paper over to E’rro, Meira couldn’t help the affectionate smile; Echo had dozed off, head nestled onto Thross’s back, and Mimic was fast asleep, too, frill fluttering slightly with every soft whistling snore. “They’re sleeping, if we want to start actually dissecting it,” she noted, nodding in the direction of the trio. “We should probably see if we can figure out what this one died of, though. He’s pretty definitely whole.” And—well, she was calling it a ‘he’ primarily from what she’d seen of the adult Razorclaws, which really wasn’t much. On the small side of the spectrum, so either very young (objectivity, not emotionality, she reminded herself) or male.

Well, they’d know for sure once they started, she guessed. Probably.

[Tashe]

Thross wiggled slightly when Echo was introduced to his nest, but the movement was one brought forth by his subconscious, he didn't wake from his rest. The male was deep enough asleep that even when the other hatchling laid her head on his back he only shifted slightly. The Brownrider watched as the birds settled in and Mimic scampered over to keep an eye on them, itching the side of his nose with amusement. "Five minutes?" E'rro carefully worked a feather out from the wing and handed it to Meira at her request. "Too bad we didn't think to grab one of the concave glasses we used in the infirmary." While she charted what ever she was writing down, the Dragonhealer inspected the avian before him with interest. He took a break to check the paper Meira slid toward him.

"Good." He slid it back nodding. When she mentioned that their pets were asleep, E'rro pulled the tray of medical tools from under the table and set them down quietly. Unpacking what they'd need from the tray, he arranged them around the carcase so that each and every one would be accessible to either himself or Meira. "Well," He said as his hands moved in practiced movements, "I didn't feel any breaks when I was extending the appendages, and I didn't see any blood on the feathers. I suspect it died of something ingested. Or from a poisonous bite somewhere on the body..." The Brownrider ran a finger down one of the flight feathers. "We should de-feather the bird's breast before we start dissection." Using the same finger he drew a Y on the bird's chest from the wing joints down to near it's bottom. "I think a Y cut will be appropriate. Oh, do you have the dissection tray ready? If you'll get that, I'll start on pulling the feathers. Unless, you'd like to do it. I don't mind either way."

Because they weren't at Selentias, they had to make their own makeshift dissection tray. Not that E'rro had many opportunities to use the one back home, but he vaguely remembered how it had been constructed with its strings and hooks. It was a rather disconcerting device with all its sharp points and strings, but it would help them by freeing up both of their hands to do other things during the dissection process. Glancing over at his sleeping chick, E'rro laced his fingers together and pushed them out in front of him in a stretch, cracking his joints soon afterward. This two hour feeding schedule was brutal but he was used to catching sleep between activities. It was the first time that he could remember in which he was actually grateful that he had been assigned to the night shift when he lived at Selenitas.

[Avu]

“We can test for typical poisons, can’t we,” she answered absently, pushing away from the countertop for the dissection tray in question. “Abnormal colors, organ-wise, or whatever? Or asphyxiation, maybe?” Personally, Meira was kind of glad that their…specimen, as it were, was already dead; the idea of dissecting a still-living creature with Mimic and Echo hanging around, whatever state of consciousness they may be in, was just not at all appealing. “Uh, plucking’s all yours,” Meira added. Rather belatedly, since her turning for the dissection tray should have very well given that away already, but it was still habit to respond verbally. Anyway, the dissection tray and tools were closer to her, and plucking didn’t hold any particular fascination.

She spent a brief minute setting up the tools in a neat line, although there weren’t many of them to get mixed up and tangled anyway; standard dissection tools did not come equipped in emergency bags, after all. Just looked neater, felt more clinical, detached, to have them all set up, in order from largest to smallest, instead of just set there. She turned briefly to set that tray onto the table where E’rro was sitting, turned back to check the strings on the dissection tray for tangles and knots, “So how do we want to do this—the legs and the base of the wings, maybe? The wingspan’s probably going to get in the way…” Laid the strings out carefully, turning back to their makeshift operating table to set it beside the tools.

Nervous. Meira was. Honestly, she’d never actually dissected anything that could Bond to people. And yes, that did make a difference. How, she wasn’t entirely sure (especially since this particular specimen had no human to call its own, and her bond with Echo, at least, was so light she could barely feel it most of the time) but it did; it felt a little like sacrilege, like ruining something beautiful. But it was necessary (and who got to decide what was necessary, anyway?), and for the living Razorclaws, the babies they’d—what, Impressed?—she supposed she would. Didn’t mean she had to like it.

[Tashe]

"Yeah, I'm sure we can... They affect humans and animals generally the same ways, although these avians are unusual. They aren't six limbed." He smirked as he began pulling the feathers from the bird's breast, doing his best to make sure he got the entire feather out of the skin. "Perhaps they're from the Time Before." He deepened his voice just a little and wiggled his fingers off handedly. E'rro of course, said this jest, but nonetheless it was the truth. Like Canines and Felines, the Razorclaws were descended from old Terran birds who managed to survive the transplant onto Pern. It looked like they managed to survive pretty well from what the Burimyuan's had seen. Putting the feathers into generally organized piles given size and length, the Brownrider finished off the area that needed to be cleared for a clean dissection.

"Yes, we need to pin the legs away from the body like this." He moved the legs as far as he could to the side to show Meira the approximate distance. "And the wings need to be held away from the body like this..." He did a similar motion with the wings but, rather than extend them all the way, he opened them only enough so they didn't obstruct their cutting area. "About... here. That way we don't have to deal with clipping down and working around the entire wingspan. Here, I'll hold the wings so you can fasten them like so."

E'rro, unlike Meira, had no problems dissecting something that could Bond with a human. If what was there between him and Thross could even be called a Bond. He'd done an autopsy on a Firelizard once, the little thing had just up and died on their Bonded. The man had wanted answers as to why his flitter had died and well, that whole experience had freed the Dragonhealer up of any emotions he should have or would have felt. Perhaps if he had to do another autopsy on a flitter, then he'd be weirded out, but these avians were just that... avians. Just, they could bond closer to a human than a Canine or a Feline.

[Avu]

E’rro’s irreverent humor earned a wry smile and a soft huff of laughter from Meira, the goldrider glancing over at the small flurry of motion and feathers and wrinkling her nose. The Razorclaw could’ve been stunning in life, with deep mahogany feathers with black and white bars and a cream-white breast—she imagined that the broken-off flight feathers and tail feathers would’ve lovely as well. But then, most Razorclaws seemed to be attractive—all of them built powerful and small, the way they had to be in order to survive in the wild. Well, there went objectivity, Meira noted dryly, and reached behind her to grab thin gloves, pulling them on quickly so she would’ve leave E’rro waiting. Tying off the strings in simple knots so they could undo them again later, Meira sat back on the stool, hooking one foot over the rungs absently, as she finished securing the last leg, brushing her fingertip over the sharp talon.

“Do you need gloves?” She could’ve just looked, but Meira didn’t want to tear her gaze away from the Razorclaw yet. As it was, Meira would’ve put her own gloves on much sooner, but she hated trying to draw with them on, would put that off for as long as possible. Just…didn’t want to come into contact with anything that could hurt Echo later. Airborne things she’d have to deal with the risk of, since the baby bird refused to let her out of its sight. The goldrider glanced over at the line of tools, picking up the smallest scalpel and offering it hilt-first to E’rro. “You can do the honors, unless you’d rather be taking notes. I don’t really like autopsies.” There were prizes for understatement, weren’t there?

Still, she was interested; Meira carefully shifted a pile of soft feathers so she could brace one elbow against the countertop, leaning forward to see the Razowclaw’s body, pencil tucked into her hand and a piece of paper pinned under her elbow as well. Noting the location of the organs was important—would be easier if one of them could do the actual dissection while the other wrote or drew or whatever. “There’s a bigger scalpel if you need it,” she added quietly. “And….not much more than that, honestly.” Which only served to make her more nervous, because they didn’t have everything that they needed, probably, and that would possibly affect their results. “A probe and a needle, tweezers, spatula.” She glanced over the tray. “Forceps.”