25th of Flamerule

A thick, mustardy smell filled Bourdekin's lab as she mashed a fresh batch of ataaj roots into a smooth paste. She wasn't willing to be caught off guard again, not having the proper remedies in her med kit. Nearby, various flasks of tinctures made from the plant's roots and petals bubbled. She wasn't sure if her experiments would yield results, but that's what made them experiments, wasn't it?
 
Since returning from Kir Sabal, the doctor had been spending more and more time locked away in the lab Wakanga had generously set up for her, on the upper floor of his estate. Her benefactor might have the patience to deal with that... *princess*, but Bourdekin could barely tolerate her insufferable sense of entitlement, much less her condescending attitude. Thus, the quiet refuge of the lab....
 
The door behind her opened with a soft creak, and Bourdekin smiled beneath her mask. There was only one person who dared ignore the prominent "do not disturb" sign, and he was welcome any time. She turned around as the patter of tiny footsteps brought a small figure to her side.
 
"Good morning, Prince. Did you finish the book I lent you already?" She knelt down, eye to eye with the young boy.
 
Prince Na nodded and held the heavy medical text out to her. She took it from him and hoisted it back onto a shelf bending under the weight of multiple volumes. "I'll give you the next one when you leave today," she promised, "In the meantime, why don't you start grinding those herbs?"
 
Bourdekin took Na's hand to steady him as he hopped up on a stool, then slid a mortar and pestle across the table. He grabbed fistfuls of medicinal herbs from a nearby pile and began working as Bourdekin returned to her ataaj roots.
 
As the morning sun drifted across the sky into late afternoon, the doctor and her new apprentice completed their tasks side by side.
 
"Miss Bourdekin, I'm finished." She looked over at the boy and the neat row of freshly made poultices lined up in front of him on the counter.
 
"Excellent work, Prince. Before you go, I have something for you."
 
"Yes, the book. Thank you," said Na eagerly. But the doctor did not return with a medical text. Instead, she handed him a medium-sized box of polished wood. Puzzled, he lifted the lid.
 
Inside the box was a small mask shaped like an aarakocra beak, constructed of soft white leather. "I told you, leather is much more comfortable on the face than wood," she said simply as he gently lifted it out of its wrappings, "and there's not much difference between suturing a wound and stitching an animal hide, so it was easy to assemble."
 
Bourdekin slipped the wooden aarakocra mask off of Na's face, took the new leather mask from his hands, and deftly fastened it before he had a chance to say anything. Na's hands flew up to his face, and he began stroking the smooth leather, immediately aware of how much softer it was against his cheeks.
 
"Now, here's your book. Go have some dinner, you've earned it, Prince." And she ushered him out of the lab.