headcanon

it's a humid day in the nursery. seraphie wipes the sweat forming on her brow and pulls up her slightly loose overalls. 

orchidaceae, orchidaceae...

she scans the rows of plants, looking for the correct shelf to place this newly imported rothschild's slipper orchid. this flower, in particular, was a tough one to acquire; the recent increase in sanction fees for horticultural resources was getting to seraphie and her family's business. 

found it! 

the chinchilla displaced some branches that were covering the sign, and with a relieved sigh, placed the rare plant down. grabbing a dry-erase marker from her pockets, seraphie wrote on the pot label, in beautiful, calligraphic handwriting, Paphiopedilum rothschildianum.

seraphie! her father called from across the large greenhouse. immediately perking up, the girl stashed her marker and jogged briskly to her dad, careful to avoid the flowerpots on the ground.

dad? she asked, curious to know why she was requested. her father stuck very strictly to a schedule, as did the rest of her family. this diversion was not ordinary.

sera, your ghost orchid! a mousy-looking, older chinchilla quipped; not in despair, but in awe and surprise. seraphie squatted down, next to her dad, and gasped.

her first batch of rare orchid that her father entrusted to her had successfully propagated. the blooms, fragile tendrils of milk-white, looked magical, almost ethereal, in the cool British air.

you're ready, sera. 

the senior animal got up, clearly satisfied with his daughter, and ambled away to another set of plants. seraphie couldn't help but beam from ear to ear. her dad finally deemed her ready to participate in the annual British orchid congress, the highest, most esteemed flower competition and festival in the region.

the chinchilla ran her paws through her violet hair as she gazed at the rows of plants stretching into the horizon. she couldn't ask for anything better today......

or could she?

a loud thump jerked seraphie out of her trance. she whipped her head in the direction of the sound, ears twitching wildly.

her father, crouched on the floor, paw clenched over his chest, in agonising pain.