Alaire
Legacy Name: Alaire

The chirpgold looks up at him with listless eyes as his mistress looks on, nearly in tears. Even his jaunty little hat is drooping. He's been off his feed for two days now and has altogether ceased reciting the classic poetry this particular minion is known to cherish.

Dr. Alaire has gone through the usual check-up routine, peering down his beak, checking the contents of his cage and asking Mrs. Kubeto all about his eating habits. This isn't going to be an easy case to solve, even for Subeta's most renowned avian vet. His private practice in Veta Lake grows in clients and success with each passing year.

He's built his reputation through years of studying hard and taking on referral cases his fellow vets were afraid to touch. Over the years he's brought in a few associates for those rare occasions when he can't work. All have specialized in minion care and all must have at least a passing interest in birds, as his is the only specialty clinic for small friends of the feathered variety.

He ushers Mrs. Kubeto out of his office with a few words of reassurance, and then shooting a meaningful look at one of his interns. She takes over, allowing the elderly kumos to lean on her shoulder for support. Cara at the receptionist desk is about to tell him about the next round of appointments but never gets the chance. His own dear Siva, a hugin, is a walking, talking appointment book, calendar and nagging mother all rolled into one. He hasn't forgotten one single appointment since he left his prom date standing at the curb to rescue a baby terrornia from the gutter.

"You've got two new cases at ten and a follow-up visit on Toucan Tommy's feather wilt and don't forget that seminar on migration depression coming up on Thursday. They're expecting you to give a speech, seeing how you're the one that correctly diagnosed the disorder as a true disease and not the imagining of worried owners who take minions from the wild. They're fools if you ask me, but there you have it."

Poor Cara definitely looks ready to hide under her desk. The new receptionist adores birds of all kinds, being a lain herself, but is rightly terrified of sharp-tongued Siva.

"Yes, Siva. Thank you. I could really use your help in exam room three. I've got a poor chirpgold exhibiting the symptoms of fatigue with none of the usual physical signs. Might you have a word with him, see if you can get him to tell you anything that would clear the matter up?"

She flutters her feathers - a show of irritation at his limitations as a non-minion or pride at his compliment, it's hard to say which with Siva - and takes flight to perch in Exam Room Three. A gentle murmur of minion voices can be heard until Siva screeches at one of the interns to stop standing like a stump and close the door. He hastily complies.

The day is a whirlwind after that. Dr. Cradon, a specialist in dragon and lizard minions, brings in a newspaper-lined box filled with svarta hatchlings barely out of the egg, apologizing on behalf of the garkle that saw fit to eat their mother. A green lovebird in need of a wing clipping proves particularly difficult despite the simple procedure. Three red-faced interns and two lab techs finally are forced to admit defeat and watch the good doctor work his magic in luring the little bird down and settle her. A trochi with a broken wing had seen fit to tease the family kiteet, earning himself a not-so-playful swat.

Dr. Alaire is just settling in for a very late lunch when Siva comes to him with a triumphant screech. "I have it, Doctor! It's a case of moss fever! He managed to sneak a mouthful when his owner was attending the annual Centropolis Poetry Slam."

It made perfect sense. His vibrant feathers would make the customary rash hard to spot and the little cap his kind so loves to wear would hide the bald spot on his crown. He takes the contents of the medicine dropper readily enough and was soon hopping around his temporary cage, exploring this strange new space with interest.

Dr. Alaire is feeling quite triumphant as he locks up for the night and settles Siva's car perch in the passenger seat of his car.

It's time at last to go home to his greater passion, the restoration of wild birds to their natural homes.

He's been working with Subeta's Parks & Wildlife Service for years, taking in everything from fledglings that fell from the nest too soon to feeble senior citizens of the avian world that simply cannot catch their own food any longer. The family estate he inherited has allowed him to build an ample bird sanctuary in the shape of Subeta's globe. Inside, climate-controlled rooms are arranged exactly as one would see them on a map of Sunbeta, from the frigid glacial sheets of Arctic Frost to the shifting sands of the Sacred Lands to the sub-tropical humidity of the Omen Islands. There's not a type of bird he can't accommodate and all of his charges, be they temporary visitors or permanent residents, thrive beneath his care.

As evening slips into night, he ceases walking the beloved paths to allow his many feathered friends their rest. Siva takes up the customary perch at the side of his bed, his constant companion and protector. Tomorrow will bring its own set of challenges, triumphs and defeats, but for tonight he is content to settle down and fall asleep to his favorite CD of bird songs softly playing from the speaker on the wall.

Credits

Profile Code by: Ringo
Extra Code by: Johnny
Edited by: Chrysariel
Story by Pureflower
Overlay by: Rah
Recolor and Animation by:
Necolasa
Snowflake Code by: GitHub
Large Feather by:
Gallery Yopriceville Clipart
Background & Name by: Chrysariel