The Estate, Sidra, Glacia, Tuesday Evening Fandom Time

[not_a_parakeet]

Warren was going to have to have words with the Estate's gardener.

... Well, okay, granted, it was his own fault for flubbing the landing. He'd picked a tree branch that was perhaps not sturdy enough to hold the weight of a grown man, even if his bones were hollow, and it had snapped underfoot, sending him toppling through several more branches

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[glacial_queen]

Karla was in the Queen's Garden, enjoying the feel of the warm earth under her fingers. She loved the early days of autumn, when the air was delightfully crisp but the sun was still warm in the sky. While the mountains had already seen their first snows, the south of Glacia looked like a sunset, the fields of wheat turning red and gold as the harvest approached.

In short, it was a picturesque day. And look! To cap it off, here came her fiancé to help cap it off. "Hello love!" she said, pushing herself up on her knees and waving. "You look...rumpled?"

[not_a_parakeet]

"I fell," Warren sighed, wrinkling his nose a little as he brought a hand up to rub idly at his arm. "There was a loose branch, and that happened to be the one I decided to land on."

Be proud, Karla. There were not many people Warren would actually admit that to.

[glacial_queen]

And she was rewarding that trust by not laughing out loud, no matter how much she longed to. "That's my strong and graceful male," she said, dimples deep. "Come here and let me try to set you aright."

His clothes were wrinkled, there were sticks in his hair, he had a smudge of dirt on his face, and there were leaves lodged in his feathers. The temptation to snap a picture with her phone was almost too much for her, so she quickly moved closer to start plucking things off of him, keeping her hands busy and out of trouble.

Well, that had been the plan, anyway. In reality, she brought her hand up to start cleaning him off, saw what was lodged in his wings, and yelped, flinging herself backwards and away from him. "Bloody Hell, Warren!" she snapped, no longer amused. "A little warning would be nice!"

[not_a_parakeet]

That... was not at all the reaction that Warren had been expecting, no. Warren blinked at her, and then stretched one wing forward slightly to get a better look at it.

... Just sticks and leaves. A few broken feathers. He was far enough from his molt that he didn't have any bloodfeathers to worry about, and it didn't look as though he'd picked up some sort of tiny killer rodent that was looking to attack her or anything.

"Um," he said, super intelligently. "Warning?"

[heromaniac]

Momoko stared quizzically at a small collection of documents that had arrived in the mail and then gave in and reached for the phone.

*Ring Ring* Warren!

[not_a_parakeet]

Warren was so having a day, and could probably use the distraction while he sat around miserably, letting Karla scrub poison ivy oil from his wings, feather by feather.

Even if it meant he was probably going to have to replace his phone after this.

"Hey?"

He was not a happy parakeet.

[heromaniac]

"Warren!" Momoko chuckled at the tone in his voice. "You sound like Karla's baking again. It's totally your fault, you know."

[not_a_parakeet]

Huh. There was an idea. If he just lit his wings on fire then the oil would go away...

Look, the narrative did not specify that it was a good idea.

"I kind of wish it was just that, actually." Seriously. That was just temporary misery and then it was gone. This was kinda more like body horror. "Have you ever run into poison ivy before?"

... The plant. Not the lady.

[blondecanary]

*ringtone of a bored Black Canary*, stuck on the couch at home*

[not_a_parakeet]

That was a very particular sort of ringtone. It was about to be met with the saddest hello from a suffering white parakeet, trying not to move ever again.

"Hey, Dinah."

Saddest Warren.

[blondecanary]

"Hey, you. You sound bummed. What's up in Glacia?" Dinah settled in for a chat, cookies at hand, toes twitching.

Those casts itched.

[not_a_parakeet]

"Today in Glacia, I learned what poison ivy looks like," Warren recited, because that... was pretty much the news of the day. "And feels like."

More than any one person should have to, in fact.

"A lot. Please tell me New Gotham is treating you better?"