2019-09-03 - The Real Murderbird

Q: When is a canary not a canary?
A: When Ignacio buys you a bird. That's when.

So Iggy's canary for Finch is really a baby chicken and that requires a lot of housing that he didn't plan on doing but is getting anyways because you can't just unadopt a child just because you didn't get what you expected. "I say when we get the other three chicks we name them after the Golden Girls because they're going to be clucking around like old hens under one roof." He sighs leveling, really level in hand, with Finch, "Itzhak didn't have to laugh quite so damn hard at this ya know. He's doing it to get to me. Not gonna let him. Nope. Nooooot...gona lettum."

Finch has her work gear on, because they may not be climbing trees, but they are building something. She's in her khaki coveralls with a rainbow striped shirt beneath, combat boots, and her goggles. The plans for the deluxe chicken coop and run were cheap on amazon, but putting them together? Well that's another story. She and Ignacio have all the equipment out here to cut and connect pieces, and well, Out on a Limb may be missing a skillsaw right now.

Finch is hammering the support posts down into the ground while Iggy helps by...making sure they're level. It's the gift that keeps on giving. "I think you like it when he yanks your chain like that," she quips to her partner with a grin.

It's a beautiful day to do the work, too - one of the few days left like this before the rain and the cooler temperatures come again. So at least they can bang their thumbs together in comfort, surrounded by the lovely call of birdsong. Well, mostly lovely. As they work, there's a trill from a nearby stand of bushes, like a bird in distress - although neither of them have seen any cat or other predator slink off in that direction.

Ignacio tap-tap-taps the corner down a little more checking the level again. "Distantly he grouses, "Yeaaaaah. No good deed goes unpunished by some people you know that?" tap-tap-tap-tap-tap Looking up at Finch he tilts his head looking slightly annoyed and that might be more a testment to his head buzzing and shrieking at him having quit his habit than anything having to actually do with his pal there. "I'm not a ceiling fan. I don't need my chain pulled. So. Golden Girls yeah? Cause if one bites she's getting named Sophia."

Finch snorts at him. "Dorothy, Rose, and Blanch first. Maybe if I get a rooster I'll call him Sophia ironically. We are in hipster Washington after all." She brushes her hands off at the sound of a bird in distress. "Shit, did another one fly into a window?" she mutters. She tosses the hammer onto the ground and starts heading in the direction of the sound. She's been healing the poor kamikaze birds all week.

It's not hard for Finch to track the sound of the bird in distress to the right patch of bushes, and peering into the dense shrubbery, she can see something small and wounded looking flailing about back there. As she leans in, she realizes very quickly that somehow the bushes have gotten large around her, enveloping her, even though she does not remember going into them.

From Ignacio's point of view, Finch appears to lean forward into the shrubs, and then, when he glances away and back, he can only see her legs starting to disappear into the bush. But...there's not enough bush to hide her like that. WTF?

Ignacio sighs looking to Fincha nd hearing the birds. There's a faint wince, "Man I hope not. I put dots on the windows." She rushes over there and he can't help feeling bad for the things. He turns to grab the next cross piece to move it and find their shop towel in case it's needed but that... is... off. There's a look of confusion, and then one of concern and he limps over there like a high-speed cowboy. "Inch? Pajarito? Talk to me..."

Finch reaches for the wounded little thing with one hand, before the bushes seem to enlarge and warp like time stretching out at the event horizon of a black hole. "WHAT THE FUCK!?" she shouts. "Oh shit." She was right. It wasn't normal. It's why the stickers on the windows didn't keep the little winged critters from smacking into them. "IGGY HELP!"

It's weird. Ignacio can hear Finch, but all he can see is something that looks vaguely like maybe her foot in the bushes. It's retreating! He could lunge for it...how deep could this bush possibly be?

There's a lunge! And Ignacio's hand settles firmly around Finch's foot - which means he's yanked with her when the ground falls out from under her, and they both go tumbling down. But they tumble together. <3 And when they hit a new ground, a few seconds later, Ignacio is still aware and all athletic enough not to fall ON her, but rather land beside her on cold dirt.

When they catch their breath and look around, they'll see they're in a what appears to be a lovely, but ginormous, garden. Flowers as tall as buildings rise up around their heads, and the thick, lush blades of grass come up to about their shoulders. Either this is a garden for giants, or they've been shrunk to the size of garden gnomes.

Ignacio has mad flashbacks to his pal Rico being grabbed and dragged back and callign for help. That lunge becomes a flying leap and his hand locks like a death grip on her ankle. Not again. Not fucking again! And then? Falling. Air and darkness stings his eyes. He'd love to say someday he grabbed her hand and they fell like Alice in Wonderland...

They did not.

There's a lot of Muppet flailing, but he holds on and braces for the impack of the ground. He winces murmuring with a grunt, "I fell on my keys..." He lets go once they stoped moving and pushes himself up to a sit and reaches for her hand to pull her up, "Pajarito? You alright..." Now he's looking around and tries to just stop shaking. Chest tightening.

"Iggy, did you bake something into those brownies you didn't tell me about? Or did we just find our way to where the Smurfs live?" Finch whispers to him. She takes his help and pushes herself up to her feet, brushing the dirt off of her, and looking around in wonder. It's beautiful, if terrifying being that it's clearly Over There. She adjusts her goggles on top of her head and looks at Ignacio, noting his state. "Hey now, we're ok. I've wandered into these little pockets of Dream Stuff a few times since I was a kid. We're not helpless ok?" she murmurs to him.

It's a beautiful, even bucolic sort of landscape. Just...very very large. There's a sudden sharp movement off to the left, and a grasshopper the size of a German Shepherd lands on one of the oversized blades of grass, and stares at them both with compound eyes.

It looks vaguely judgmental: (https://image.shutterstock.com/image-photo/grasshopper-tettigonia-viridissima-close-260nw-207652471.jpg)

Ignacio is trying not to come apart but, well, she's here. The bad news is he is too and they shouldn't be. He hugs her and in an apologetic tone he says "Truthfully? Yes I did... and yes we are. I think." He kisses her forehead just long enough to get his damn blood pressure under control. "For real I dunno where in teh name of Rick Moranis we are. I-" He looks to the giant grasshopper and back to Finch who is actually, and inspiringly confident with these thing. Taking a deep rbeath he murmurs, "Just pretend you're Ant-Man, 'Nacio. It's fine."

"Hey whoa hey there Jiminy Cricket. I mean, you're not a cricket clearly, you're a grasshopper. We sort of fell in here, I heard something that was injured. Can you show us the way, if something needs me?" Dear Finch, just because you've been healing injured birds and animating bushes to walk back to Mallard House and live pampered lives on the ground doesn't make you Snow White. Or does it? Maybe it's more Doctor Doolittle.

She doesn't seem overly scared as Ignacio hugs her. She's under the false assumption that the bad things won't kill her until after she has a chance to go nuts and slaughter all the males of her generation in her family. She begins going over what grasshoppers eat in her memory from her bio classes. "They're veggiesauruses, Ig," she informs him, in the way he may best understand, pop culture movie quotes.

The grasshopper bounds away. A shadow passes over, and there's a high-pitched call of triumph from the bird that catches it: Finch would recognize it as a shrike - it's not a particularly beautiful thing, being mostly grey and brownish, with a bandit's mask of black over its eyes, and a long, surprisingly sharp beak. The buffet from its wings threatens to knock them off their feet as it dives up again, impaling the insect's head with brutal efficiency on the wing. There's a tilt of its head as it circles around, almost as big as a car. And Finch would probably remember: shrikes don't just eat insects. They also enjoy small vertebrates, when they can catch them.

Ignacio arches an eyebrow looking around, "Well so long as they don't eat meat and metal I'm good then." She gets him. She really gets him. That bird though is REALLY fucking loud when you are 3" tall. "Hooooly Bugs Life, Batman!" And then they are flat on their ass again. There's a bit of a wince and he bemoans, "They really need to stop that."

Finch meeps as the grasshopper gets eaten by the shrike and they get bowled over by the wind. "Well damn, that is a meat-asaurus, and we're snack sized. Come on Ig, we need to find some cover, stay low!" She crouches down in the grass, looking for anything they can go hide beneath to keep out of sight of the bird. "This is NOT the way I'm supposed to go out, dammit. I can see the headlines now: ornithologist eaten by giant bird. I am not Florida Man!" she mutters.

Ignacio rolls to his good side to push himself up. "Right. That's an Iggy-vory. Check." He moves to keep an eye on the bird, and leaving the other hand on her shoulder. It stands to habit that yes, when he's not thinking about it he's not helpless and he canfocus his intent. That Devil's luck of his in the process rubs off to her and he murmurs, "C'mon, Florida Man. let's see if we can get back to... shit... Mags?"

The bird does a quick turn in the sky - it recognizes when there's a better meal on the table, and the two mini-humans look TASTY. Finch is able to find cover, a fallen bit of wood that's juuuust big enough for her to squeeze behind and be entirely out of sight. Ignacio? Not so lucky. The bird locks on and drops from the sky like a murderous rock, and Ignacio finds himself snatched up by one leg, the bird's talons raking along old scars as it snatches him up. Its wings beat - he's heavier than even a large grasshopper, but it cries out with joy regarding its prize.

That bird is trying to make off with her man. Oh HELL NAW! Finch's hands lash out. She knows birds. She knows bird anatomy. And her fingers weave the silvery strands of spirit she uses to heal, this time to harm. They snap out, and go for the wing of the Shrike, finding the humerus, the radius, and there, the smaller, thinner Ulna. She slashes her hand out like a karate chop to snap that fragile, hollow wing bone so the bird can't fly. "Iggy!" she hollers.

Ignacio notes it's getting close... closer... TOO CLOSE! wisely his arms come up to protect his face. When in tha tmoment that damn bird sincks talons onto the bad leg pulling a pissned snarl from him, "Ay, cabron!" That's not the leg he wants to be hanging by that's for damn sure. hands grab pantleg and he tries to pull himself upright and grab the bird's leg and try to get himself free from being pinned to the ground at a funny angle. "Aaaaaaah fuck you bird!" Are there undignified tears? Not officially no. (Yes, Yes there are. It hurts like hell, folks.)

Ignacio grabs himself a scaly bird leg, which is helpful! It takes a little of the bone-snapping pressure off of his leg. But then there's more bone-snapping going on, and the shrike shrieks in pain as its wing just snaps in several pieces. It collapses - on top of Ignacio, who is now buried in fluffy warm murderbird feathers - and flails on the ground, still hanging on to its prize, but turning to snap that long, sharp beak in Finch's direction, lunging for her.

"Let. Him. GO!" Finch shouts at the bird. She doesn't want to hurt it. She's all about preserving birds. But not, "Let GO!" at the expense, " Of My!" of her goddamned, "BOYFRIEND!!!!" Her mind shivers out in her need to save Ignacio, and connects with the grasses near the downed bird. There is a strange sense of calm to her as she directs them to grab the shrike and hold it fast, wrapping around its beak, leg, and other wing. At least she hasn't busted out the fireballs yet. If she goes all Dark Phoenix, it could be bad.

Ignacio grinds his teeth adown trying to budge the damn bird. Their bones should be hollow! They can't weigh this much!! Trying to pry talons apart? Nope. It hits him and he takes a pause and murmurs through gritted teeth looking in pain and endeared, "You said the word, Inch... now... do the thing." His hand reaches up to jus tpull any feathers it can from this bird thing,

The bird's shrieks are piercing - it's in pain, it's captured, and now someone is reaching up into its feathers to yank them out. The indignity! Ignacio comes away with a handful of down feathers that are about the size of flight feathers in the real world...and the bird's shaking and his own grabbing dislodge feather mites - which basically look like fist-sized ticks of a yellowish hue, down onto his body. They crawl in a bit of a daze on top of him. Where is their warm, feathery place to stay?

Finch looks almost serene as her power stretches out. She can feel every bone in the shrike's body, every injury pulsing in Ignacio's. She can heal him. And soon she may be able to undo the damage this place did to him when he was younger. She is stronger today, than she was yesterday, and she can feel it coursing through her blood and bone. We're all just atoms, combined in different various ways, to make all the things in the universe. It makes all the sense in the moment, though she'll likely forget that if and when they return to their own reality.

She reaches out her hand and gestures, snapping the first digit, that backward facing talon, of the bird, to remove its leverage to hold Iggy.

Ignacio might be a shade of his former self but at the end of the day he's still born from Queens and raised... okay to cook. Let's be real here. Still that shower of crawly baseballs is enough to make him let the damn bird go! The feather slap-slap-slaps them and he just balls up a fist punching the little fuckers with a hail of Angry Spanish(tm). They get thrown, they get punched... the get the crux of his pent up anger. Clearly whatever Finch said there revivified his spirit of survival and rallied the wayward author.

Squish! Skitter! Pop! Ignacio's fists are soon covered with ichor and stolen blood. These things are large, but not exactly tough. And he's free! Thanks to that talon-ripping goodness from Finch. The bird above him heaves and strains. Its feathers start tumbling down - one or two at first, but then in a fury, a storm of oversized bird feathers that buries poor Ignacio again. Finch can feel the grass-shackles lose their grip as the bird diminishes. Soon, laying in a pile of grey down is an older woman, her arm and foot mangled and bleeding, broken in so many places.

Finch's mother looks up at her with empty, bitter eyes. "I knew you'd do this, one day. I tried to save him. But you'll kill him. You'll kill us all." It doesn't even sound angry. Just inevitable.

Finch backs up a step as the bird begins to shift and change, and take on the form of the most hurtful thing she has ever known. Her own mother. The woman who gave her life, then tried to take it from her when she was just thirteen years old, after her uncle's wife gave birth to twin boys. The pink-haired woman's dark eyes go darker, and harder.

"Fate isn't set in stone, Wren," she says to the spectre of her mother. "I'm going to find a way to beat the curse. You, however, are going to die in that asylum for what you did to me." She moves to crouch beside Ignacio and work on healing his newest injuries.

Ignacio calls out in pain, but triumphant, "Ah HA!- Oh no!" And then there's the weight of the bird obearing down upon him!. Gross. This thing is covered in... so gross. and the down becomes ... some... lady? Well his leg is fuckin shot. He pushes himself back and eyes her warily. Very calmly he quotes Fight Club, "On a long enough time line, the survival rate for everyone drops to zero." He works to push himself to a stand and with a sharp wince. Nope. That's presently a no-go. He snaps her hand up and kisses her palm and keep s her hand there. Looking to the shade he tries not to grind his teeth as the damage leaves. Talking helps. It's why he does so damn much of it. "Let's try this. Hi. I'm Ignacio. Consider me warned, buuuuut I ain't ready to give up on her. I'm sorry life's been rough, and frightening, and that sucks... but she deserves more faith than that."

When Finch moves to go help Ignacio, Wren drags herself closer to the both of them, leaving a trail of blood through the feathers, her eyes fixed on her daughter. "You'll need these, won't you?" She holds up a pair of long, sharp scissors, their blades fitted together remarkably like the beak of a shrike. "To do what you're going to do to him. To us all, eventually." Her attention turns to Ignacio. "Look what she did to me. She could do it to you just as easily. You won't even be able to fight back. You'll be helpless. Always so helpless to stop what's coming."

Finch holds Iggy up and as her mother brandishes the scissors, her hand moves and her fingers jerk and sway as she breaks down the mechanics of the tool by spirit-feel. Then she simply undoes them with a flick of a fingertip. "Nice try. But I'm not Great Aunt Starling, or Piper Celaeno. I'm Finch, and I won't be turned by Them."

Ignacio watches the scissors, the woman. He feel the words try to cut into her with the presence and symbolism of the scissors rather than the blade. A faint smile flickers on his face resigning himself to this. "There's worse ways to do. Could die alone." he pauses. "In a box." He squeezes her hand tight watching the scissors dissemble. Solidarity there. His body's an easy thing to break, his resolve? not nearly.

When the scissors come undone, so does the Not-Wren. It's quick, but not painless - the woman shrieks in pain (and her cry is the cry of a dying shrike) as she...breaks apart and unravels. There are only brief glimpses of the damage wrought on her body, this thing with Wren's face, then she's gone. And so are the scissors, leaving only a deep pool of dark red liquid, surrounded by a shore of soft, grey feathers.

Finch lets out a breath when the thing falls apart. She turns to hold Ignacio's face in her hands, and let her spirit move through him, healing his wounds, undoing the damage. "Are you all right?" she whispers to him.

Ignacio watches, not letting Finch go (look it's perfectly cool and alright to be scared. Shit's a lil weird right now, stop judging!) Bus his face is in her hands. Deep breaths and jsut... let thigs quiet and fall back into place. The fear weirdly ebbs iwth her just not being angry and getting shit done. Her question brings a lopsided smile, "You believe I have no witty comment for right now?" The concept of that alone is so absurd he actually laughs as she grants him refuge from right now. "I'm alright or... I'll be alright." He pauses and watches her eyes with pride and adoradtion. He murmurs though, "Your mom is a real charmer. Must take after your dad."

As they stand there, staring into each other's eyes, they feel a subtle shift and tilt of the world around them. As the healing settles into the gashes on Ignacio's leg, heals them and makes them new - or at least, keeps them from adding any new scars - they realize that they're standing outside the pieces of the chicken coop. Normal human size! The birds are singing. The sun is shining. It's a lovely day, and surely there are no murderbirds here.

Finch gives Iggy a small smile. "Maybe. We'd have to figure out who the hell he is to know for sure. Even mom has no clue." As the air shifts around them she blinks and turns her head to confirm, yep, they're back. "I think the coop can wait til tomorrow. Figgy. We should probably call the Scooby Gang, and get some rest."

Ignacio takes solace in not being tore up again. This, folks, is why painkillers are your friend!! Because you never know. There's amusement when he says "My money's on Johnny Storm. You can definiately pass for the daughter of the Human Torch." And then there's the squeakign sound of the weathervane above the garage bringing him to look around at a 1:1 scale model of the world again. The suggestion gets a squint of his eye mulling it over, "Eeeeeh, I think they can wait." Because right now he's more inclines to kiss her, and does, than have a cranky conversation with Itzhak, which he doesn't.