WHO: Sebastian and Ellie WHAT: Bee autopsy. Beeopsy? HAhaha... WHERE: The tiniest makeshift surgery on a table in the greenhouses. I wish you guys could see it, because it's probably adorable. WHEN: Backdated to right after this post. I am fail and meant to start this days ago. RATING: Low.
Sebastian had managed to isolate several of the bees that had been exhibiting odd behavior. In fact, the odd behavior itself made that part easy. Some of the bees were behaving erratically, as if inebriated. It wasn't from the smoker, because he'd noticed it when the smokers weren't even activated. As he'd informed Father Thorne, it wasn't an aggressive behavior, either, leading him to believe that they weren't infected with a mutated form of the virus. Thank God. That would have been a death sentence to anyone in Sing Sing who wasn't immune. Infected insects was not something they were prepared to handle. Which was, of course, why he'd been quiet about the strange observation.
Luckily, this was something different. Something else. Though he was still largely being quiet, because he didn't know what exactly it was. The bees would fly low, missing plants entirely, in unpredictable patterns. They'd also walk around in slow circles on the ground, which was very poor self-preservation for a creature that could easily be picked off by any passing bird. They were lucky they were in a greenhouse, protected from such things, otherwise they'd be eaten long before Sebastian could collect them. Well, the more accurate way to phrase it would be that he was lucky they were in a greenhouse, protected from such things, because the bees likely weren't going to be any more fond of what he did to them than they would being consumed by birds. He felt a small pang of sympathy for that, but they were bees, after all, and didn't have cognitive ability to realize that they were being mistreated. He trapped a handful of them together the old fashioned way, in a jar, and watched them very closely for signs of aggression just in case. Then he cut off their air supply and let them suffocate naturally, so as not to compromise the physical structures.
In his research, using the material Helena had left him with, Sebastian had discovered several very dire bee infections. There were molds that could get into the insect's system, causing strange behavior. There were diseases that could wipe out entire hives. All of his readings indicated that bees were delicate creatures, easily unbalanced by changes in diet, atmosphere, and surroundings. Like fish, or anxiety-ridden botanists.
He had multiple theories as to what it could be, but he couldn't be sure without examining the bees themselves, which is where he ran into two problems. The first was that Sebastian's hand tremors made the delicate work of inspecting a very small insect without completely destroying it impossible. Hell, he had difficulty enough with the microscope, which could take a bit of shaky handling. He needed someone with a steady hand. Preferably, a small steady hand. Then, of course, was the matter of his broken glasses. Being farsighted made the close-up work all the more problematic, so he needed someone with good eyesight, as well. Not to mention the natural curiosity required to not balk at playing about with dead insects.
Eloise had come to mind immediately.
After contacting her, Sebastian set up his makeshift surgery on a greenhouse work table. By the time she'd arrived, everything was ready to go. He'd even managed to procure a pair of gloves from the infirmary, though they were more symbolic than anything. He didn't think anything could be transferred between a dead bee and a human... but he didn't know if Eloise was allergic to bees, and determined that it was better to be safe than sorry. When she got there, he gave her a bright, cheerful smile, genuinely happy to see her, and actually excited to prove his theory one way or another. "Ah! Miss Ellie! I'm... ah, glad that you had a moment to spare. This... this shouldn't take long."