Chapter Text
“These are the stables,” Dick explains, “though we don’t use them often. The creatures we take care of aren’t fond of restricted spaces. The only reason we might put one in one of the stalls is to take care of them if they get really sick.”
Dick examines Timothy Drake, the latest addition to their ranks, and watches the teenager fumble with his fingers. Dick wasn’t one to doubt his adopted father’s decisions in recruitment choices, but he’d really like to see what Bruce sees in Tim. Bruce didn’t just recruit people willy-nilly, not in their line of work, and Dick had reason to believe that Tim must’ve done something to catch Bruce’s eye.
Tim was a good kid, Dick was sure, judging by his character alone. He had a youthful passion hidden under basic confidence issues that held him back. Dick was certain he must intimidate the poor little fella because Tim walked around on pins and needles when he had any questions. He was very careful with how he articulated his sentences, and he seemed overall anxious to be around an authority figure.
“We have a creature in one of the stalls right now,” Dick says, leading Tim to the last stall on the right, “and judging by the mess I’m sure you can assume what we’re dealing with.”
The gate they had once used for the stall was now replaced because it’d been scorched beyond repair. The new steel metal door was unlike anything else in the entire stable, but it’d been a necessary addition for two reasons. One, to keep their sickly beast inside the stall, and two, to stop the creature from setting the rest of the stable on fire. Still, despite the brand new fortification, there were still noticeable scratch marks stretched on both sides.
They stop in front of the door. Dick gestures to the glass window that sat high near the top right corner. Tim takes that as permission to peek into it. He steps on his toes because he wasn’t quite tall enough to reach it yet, and he makes an audible gasp when he sees the creature inside.
Dick grabs at the clipboard hooked on the post besides the door. He flips through the sheets.
“Jason,” Dick reads out loud with a drawl, having already gone through this process with their other addition, Cass, “is a dragon who is suffering from a condition we’ve recently titled Slime Disease. We’re trying to come up with a treatment plan, but unfortunately we’ve had little luck with his temper.”
Tim watches as Jason, a long, heavy, red-scaled dragon opens a yellow slitted eye.
He puffs out a surge of smoke as they make eye-contact. Tim stumbles backwards.
“What’s,” Tim swallows thickly, “what’s slime disease?”
“Well,” Dick starts explaining, hooking the clipboard back on the post, “we don’t know where it originates from, but what we theorize is that the ooze that has been seeping through Jason’s cracked scales is a type of pus that fights infection. We’re not entirely sure yet, and we can’t actually do any tests with Jason’s dangerous temper.”
“Oh,” Tim breathes, glancing back at the metal steel door.
“Don’t worry,” Dick says, slapping a hand on his shoulder, and he doesn’t miss the wince in response, “we don’t let the rookies handle dragons. Not unless you really want to, and have enough training under your belt. No. You’re more likely going to take care of some of our other creatures under Alfred’s supervision until you’re experienced enough to handle things yourself.”
Tim offers Dick a nervous smile.
Dick pats his shoulder a couple of times, feeling bad that he’d scared Tim, and then withdraws it back to his side.
Tim stutters out a question, “So what exactly do you do? I know tha- that I’m supposed to just take care of their needs, but what exactly do you do around the sanctuary?”
Dick smiles. “Well, aside from trying to not get singed, I’m usually a jack-of-all-trades. That’s why I’m the one showing you around. And, speaking of which, that’s why I’m the one who’s going to show you what to do in the mornings. Here. Follow me.”
Dick starts for the exit. Tim scampers behind him.
Dick points at a water pump to their right, rooted in dirt with no grass, and says, “We’ll be counting on you to fulfill basic chores. Feeding the creatures in the morning, and making sure they have enough water. “
Dick walks over to the water pump.
“This pump leads directly to the water bins. You just need to give it a few pumps like this,” Dick says, demonstrating by grabbing the handle, and pulling it up. He then grunts, pushes it back down, and repeats the process twice. “We’ve tried to make things simple, but even the most menial tasks take away precious time that can be used to work on analyzing our resident’s behavior. That’s why you’ll be doing this from now on.”
“Okay,” Tim says.
Dick releases the pump. He lets it fall slowly.
“Over here,” Dick starts again, gesturing for Tim to follow him, “is the variety of feeds we use for each individual creature. Since Cass is our new dietician, she’s going to be helping you with this part, because it wouldn’t do if we get any of these mixed up. Each creature has a specific diet, and mixing things up can potentially be catastrophic to their health. Let’s start by showing you how to feed one of our long-time residents, Stephanie.”
“Stephanie?” Tim asks.
“She’s a griffin,” Dick says, “and griffins are carnivores. We like to use the premade pellets that we’ve mixed with important medication. She needs to take for her feathers.”
Dick grunts again. He opens the door to a large shack, and then takes a step in. Tim glances around when he steps in behind, and Dick momentarily watches the kid take in all of the massive containers they had filled with food.
Dick walks over to a food dispenser specifically designed for Stephanie. He grabs hold of a bucket on the way there, holds it underneath the drop off chute, and then turns the handle upward. He watches as the pellets spill out of the dispenser in a solid waterfall.
The bucket fills. Dick shuts it off. He hands it to Tim.
Tim accepts it without any question. Dick leads him out of the shack, past the stables, and towards a dark brown building on the edge of their property.
“Watch your step,” Dick says, “it gets-”
He hears a sad groan. He glances over his shoulder to see Tim’s boot covered in mud lined with weeds, twigs, and other pieces of nature.
“It gets muddy,” Dick laughs. “It’s a good thing you brought those boots.”
“Yeah,” Tim grimaces, balancing on one foot, and checking the heel of his boot. It was caked in the same mud that covered the leather up to his ankle.
Dick starts walking again. Tim follows him with a disgruntled frown.
“Now, Stephanie is one of our passive residents,” Dick mentions, unlatching the human sized door that would lead them inside her nest, “so you can feed her straight out of the bucket. Sometimes, if you’re lucky, she’ll lay an egg for you.”
Tim raises his brows.
Dick snorts. “I’m not kidding.”
“Um,” Tim begins, “Wouldn’t she be embarrassed? I know that the sanctuary only houses people that have been - uh - you know…”
“Cursed?” Dick offers.
Tim shrinks in himself.
Dick shakes his head. “Don’t worry. It’s not taboo to say that word around here. Something that we’ve learned about people who’ve been cursed is that they don’t retain the normal mental faculties they used to have as humans. Until their emotional problems are solved by their extended transformation, they start to think like the creatures they take form as, and so they adopt their characteristics. In Stephanie’s instance, to show her appreciation, she lays eggs for people. Just don’t think too hard about it. She’ll be offended if you don’t accept her gifts.”
Dick ushers Tim into the building. He closes the door behind them.
The building was rather spacious for a griffin Stephanie’s size, which was funny, considering the fact that she was the smallest griffin Dick’s ever seen. The entire floor was littered with hay, it was impossible to avoid, but the largest mixture of it sat in the middle where Stephanie had created her own nest. Dick wasn’t surprised to see her roosting there.
Stephanie raises her head. Dick greets her with a smile.
“Hey, Steph!” He says, voice light.
Stephanie’s eyes brighten. She stands up.
Tim takes a step back to hide behind Dick. Dick couldn’t blame him. Stephanie was twice his size, larger than even Jason, and she was an absolute beast with those sharp talons of hers. Her beak was strong enough to penetrate steel.
“This bucket isn’t enough,” Tim whispers in fear.
Dick felt bad for finding that statement funny.
“She doesn’t eat a lot,” Dick supplies.
Stephanie takes one heavy step towards them. She tilts her head to the side, like that of a bird, to inspect the newcomer.
“Griffins don’t eat like the others,” Dick explains, “and we’re pretty sure it’s because they get their food from two different sources. This is really just a way to administer her medication.”
“What other way do they eat?” Tim asks with wide eyes.
“Affection,” Dick says with a smile.
Stephanie lowers her head. Dick reaches out a hand to card through giant feathers.
“She doesn’t bite,” Dick promises, “she’s probably the gentlest resident we shelter in the sanctuary.”
Dick takes a step to the side, exposing Tim to the giant griffin, and Tim pales.
“Can I touch you?” Dick asks. He’d learned from the patting incident earlier.
Tim takes a moment to think over his question.
He reluctantly nods his head.
Dick takes his free wrist in his palm. He reaches it up slowly, for Tim’s sake, and then hovers it over Stephanie’s cheek. He can feel Tim tremble underneath him. He feels bad for it, but Dick knew he’d overcome it when he found out there was nothing to fear. Dick had been the same way when he’d first started taking chores up in the sanctuary.
Tim rests a hand on Stephanie’s cheek. Dick removes his grip from his wrist.
Tim’s hand is still for a long moment.
Dick encourages him by saying, “It’s okay. Just try a simple stroke. She doesn’t mind.”
Stephanie was eyeing Tim. Her yellow irises, not unlike Jason’s, watch Tim’s face as he bites his bottom lip.
He gently, carefully, runs a hand down one of her feathers.
Stephanie rumbles in appreciation. Dick knows it’s for Tim’s benefit. She didn’t usually make that kind of noise. She preferred to stay silent, only squawking when she was impatient, and even then it was rare to hear her make such a sound.
“Oh,” Tim says, still frightened, but a little less tense than before.
“Alright,” Dick says after Tim strokes her a couple of more times, “here’s how we feed her in the morning.”
Tim withdraws his hand.
“Stephanie? Sit,” Dick commands.
Stephanie tilts her head to change her attention to Dick. She watches him with a curious look.
“Sit, Stephanie,” he repeats.
Stephanie plops down on the ground. She crosses her two front talons.
“Good girl,” Dick croones, “now roll over.”
Stephanie stares.
“Roll over,” he encourages.
Stephanie rolls over on her side, and then onto her back. She sticks her limbs out in the air.
“Such a good griffin,” he coos, patting her cheek, “now open your beak.”
Stephanie doesn’t wait this time. She opens her beak.
“Alright,” Dick says, “this is the part where you need to get close and personal.”
Dick takes Tim’s bucket from his hand. He starts to climb up Stephanie’s feathers.
“You can use a ladder if you want, but Stephanie doesn’t mind if you just climb up her face.”
He can imagine how he must look. He must look ridiculous in Tim’s eyes, but this is what was necessary to keep their local griffin happy.
Dick hauls the bucket up with only one hand. His upper body strength was what kept him up when he pulls hiimself up to an opening of her beak. He then dumps the contents of the bucket, making it look effortless after all of the practice he’d put into the same motion, and then he watches the pellets fall down into the abyss of her throat.
Dick tosses the bucket behind him. He then leaps backwards, flips in the air, and lands on his feet.
Tim looks at him like he was a circus act, and, in a way, Dick used to be exactly that.
Stephanie rolls back on her stomach. She starts preening her feathers with no delay.
“Now, her eggs are pretty big if she decides you ought to have one, so we usually keep a dolly around to wheel it out of the building. They’re pretty heavy.”
“Um,” Tim says, “okay.”
“You can decide what you want to do with them,” Dick says as they take to exiting the building again, “but sometimes I just cook the entire thing in the giant boiling room. We give out the leftovers to some of the creatures here.”
Dick takes three steps out of the building before squinting his eyes.
Tim closes the door behind him. He can hear him lock the latch.
Dick recognizes the four legged figure trotting towards him. He sighs out loud, handing the bucket over to Tim again, and then says, “Looks like we have a visitor.”
“Huh?” Tim sounds.
Dick had sighed, sure, but he was actually quite delighted to see that their new company had shown up. It was a show of progress, a sign of trust, because Damian of all people, of all creatures, wanted to be around Dick.
The reason he’d sighed was because Damian had escaped his pasture again.
“Is that a-” Tim starts.
“Pegasus?” Dick finishes for him. “Yeah.”
Damian, his sweet little foal, trots to a stop in front of Dick.
Dick can’t keep his hands to himself. He reaches out a hand to rub the side of Damian’s face, and Damian leans his face in his caretaker’s palm.
“This is Damian,” Dick introduces.
Tim gasps.
Dick knows why.
He just doesn’t want to comment on it.
Dick moves his hand to stroke Damian’s snout. His ears twitch and his tail flicks.
“You don’t have to worry about Damian,” Dick starts explaining, “He’s primarily under my care. You might be called in to take care of his coat every once in a while, but I’m not going to lie to you. I covet most of the duties.”
“Oh, no, I understand. It’s fine,” Tim says.
“Thanks,” Dick says, quietly.
He strokes Damian one more time before removing his hand. Damian, his black fur coated little brother, cranes his head past Dick’s person to sniff at Tim. His interest wasn’t really in Tim. It was more on the foreign object that carried the scent of a griffin on it.
“His wings,” Tim points out, “they’re banded.”
“Yeah,” Dick confirms, “it’s just to keep him from flying away. He’s not like Stephanie. He won’t come back if he decides to take flight.”
“Oh,” Tim says, “that’s - um - that’s problematic.”
“Right?” Dick agrees. “Just wish he knew that.”
Damian sticks his nose in the bucket that Tim had lowered for Damian’s sake. He then pulls his nose out, huffs out a breath of air, and then turns his attention back to Dick. He head butts him on the thigh.
Dick pats Damian’s head. “Yeah, yeah, we’re going,” he says. “We’ve got a couple of other creatures we need to show you how to feed. Do you mind if Damian accompanies us?”
“Not at all,” Tim says.
“Great,” Dick says, starting up in a walk again.
Tim swings the bucket behind him. He keeps up with Dick’s pace. Dick felt he could correctly guess that his eyes weren’t on Dick’s back anymore, though, because it wasn’t often that you watched a human walk side by side with the cursed. He was probably looking over Damian in that brand new fascination that came to all those who started working in the sanctuary.
“After we finish,” Dick says, “we’ll go to the manor for a break. I’ll introduce you to some of your co-workers. I think you’ll like them. Most of them are your age.”
“Really?” Tim asks, taking a step faster to keep up with Dick’s acrobatic strides.
“Yup.”