[Day 178:...] Compared to the other people in the recovery tent, Julien's... well, he's not petrified, the stone scales move fine and don't feel heavy, but he's had a heavier dose of poison. He feels very much like he doesn't belong with the ex-imprisoned, though, and it's kind of unpleasant being in an enclosed space at all. So. He struggled out while no one who could stop him was looking and now sprawls outside. It's fine. He wants to soak in sunlight when it's light out. Feel the air on his feathers when it's not. Even get rained on, if the weather goes that way. It's better than being under a roof right now.
He looks terrible. There aren't bandages - his skin is good at closing back up, even without the healing ability the Earthmind gave him - but many white feathers are stained a rusty brown, and he's bedraggled, various feathers on his neck plucked out to show thin skin a few shades paler than on his human body. The skin of his eyelids is dry and so thin his pupils can be seen through them. The wings he has outstretched along the ground are immense, like on a small aircraft. Curled at his side, or under a wing, or lying on top of his feathery bulk, is his human body, uninjured and not as affected but with a sleepless, unhealthy look.
The contact and the pressure, received and inflicted, helps in the same way cupping an injury with one's hands helps. It also helps to be able to spread himself out, to perceive the world through a body that feels less abused. Still not great, though, and he has no idea how or when it got poisoned. It must be partly an illness in him.
It's going to take a lot of coaxing to get his bird body to move, but if you come by a floating spectral eye or three might appear in the air over him, and if you don't move on his human head will raise blearily to look at you, the fuzzy new pedipalps pressed against his face.
[Wildcard, After?]
The human-shaped part of him is in a good enough shape to go out and do things that aren't a strain. Or, well, everything's something of a strain, and he spends a lot of time curled up with himself, but if he can stop to rest pretty often Julien can walk around, get food, visit the menagerie, in general do something to not feel like a complete invalid.
He'd like to avoid various people he's ended up hurting or slighting or betraying in the past week or so, but Julien's thirty years old and tremendously social. He knows that doesn't work. Seeking them out right now is generally out, he doesn't have the energy or the panache to try to patch anything up, but he doesn't turn away or plot out ways to not let them see him.
Julien Delacroix | OPEN
Compared to the other people in the recovery tent, Julien's... well, he's not petrified, the stone scales move fine and don't feel heavy, but he's had a heavier dose of poison. He feels very much like he doesn't belong with the ex-imprisoned, though, and it's kind of unpleasant being in an enclosed space at all. So. He struggled out while no one who could stop him was looking and now sprawls outside. It's fine. He wants to soak in sunlight when it's light out. Feel the air on his feathers when it's not. Even get rained on, if the weather goes that way. It's better than being under a roof right now.
He looks terrible. There aren't bandages - his skin is good at closing back up, even without the healing ability the Earthmind gave him - but many white feathers are stained a rusty brown, and he's bedraggled, various feathers on his neck plucked out to show thin skin a few shades paler than on his human body. The skin of his eyelids is dry and so thin his pupils can be seen through them. The wings he has outstretched along the ground are immense, like on a small aircraft. Curled at his side, or under a wing, or lying on top of his feathery bulk, is his human body, uninjured and not as affected but with a sleepless, unhealthy look.
The contact and the pressure, received and inflicted, helps in the same way cupping an injury with one's hands helps. It also helps to be able to spread himself out, to perceive the world through a body that feels less abused. Still not great, though, and he has no idea how or when it got poisoned. It must be partly an illness in him.
It's going to take a lot of coaxing to get his bird body to move, but if you come by a floating spectral eye or three might appear in the air over him, and if you don't move on his human head will raise blearily to look at you, the fuzzy new pedipalps pressed against his face.
[Wildcard, After?]
The human-shaped part of him is in a good enough shape to go out and do things that aren't a strain. Or, well, everything's something of a strain, and he spends a lot of time curled up with himself, but if he can stop to rest pretty often Julien can walk around, get food, visit the menagerie, in general do something to not feel like a complete invalid.
He'd like to avoid various people he's ended up hurting or slighting or betraying in the past week or so, but Julien's thirty years old and tremendously social. He knows that doesn't work. Seeking them out right now is generally out, he doesn't have the energy or the panache to try to patch anything up, but he doesn't turn away or plot out ways to not let them see him.