Downstairs, Lyral pointed one of his mages to Iviaen's position then spoke, "Mister Brightblaze. We understand you've escaped from imprisonment, this is good. You need a good vetting before you're allowed to be among your own."
Iviaen turned and looked at the Magistrix who gently ushered him away from cooking and over to the others, "I've been vetted already," His usually sweet voice became harsh and scolding, "If you think I'd thoughtlessly endanger everyone here by coming here directly after escape, you're stupid. We already removed the devices they affixed us with."
Lyral sighed, "Yes. I know whom you went to see, but we still need to examine you. Come, take us to a private space where we can chat."
Iviaen turned and sat down at the kitchen table, "There are no private places here." He eyed the man with suspicion; he had seen the man before the Pyreanor but didn't know much about him, he seemed like a friend though, "What do you wish to know?"
Serita takes a muffin and eats, watching the cooking, peering at the chicken in the oven. Her gaze turns to the rice. She could cook rice, and her ears perked as she checked everything and listened to the conversation.
Tyan grunted, "I awoke from slumber not long ago. Zan's. Something is wrong with Zan. Very very wrong. He still exists, but he's not the same anymore."
Iviaen bowed his head, "They were going to do experiments on us. They had us in these cages, with, birdcages really close to us so the animals could bond with us or something. And they might have done it to Zan."
"A bird?" Than grunted, "It could be worse; we won't have to de-fel him."
Iviaen shook his head, "They were rather kind to us, and incredibly incompetent. I'm surprised he hasn't already escaped."
Lyran moved to Iviaen, "Let me touch your mind? I'm told they've placed compulsions in minds."
The idea of a stranger getting into his mind was incredibly startling for Iviaen. He'd need more disclosure and trust before he'd allow such things, "Who are you?" Iviaen asked. Something snapped in his mind, his eyes widened, and pinfeathers began to appear in his long white hair, "Wh-who?"
Serita heard the half hoot and answered with one of her own before turning and looking around to see who brought the other owl.
Iviaen twitched and pulled away from Lyral as the priest moved closer to him, he repeated, "Wh-who?"
Lyral raised his hand and the two spell breakers moved, one to each side of Iviaen. They grabbed his arms and held him in place so Lyral could do his work.
Iviaen went into a panic, and struggled to free himself from the hands of Lyral's men. His form shifted into that of a winged elf with only pinfeathers on his wings, then into the shape of an anthro-elf with tail feathers, then into a straight up snowy owl and flew away from them, hooting in a panic. He perched atop a door frame and hooted again, his glowing fel-green eyes narrowed in a rage.
Aidana entered the kitchen and looked around to see what trouble Serita was in. She spotted the owl perched on the doorframe and tilted her head, then spotted Serita watching the other owl with wide eyes, "Serita!"
"I didn't do it!" Serita replied automatically.
Aidana looked around and asked, "Who is that?"
The Iviowl let out some soft warbles.
"Mister Iviaen!" Serita replied.
Lyral looked up at Iviaen, "Well it seems he's not the only one slated to become a bird."
"I wonder what kind of bird they turned Zan into. Probably a rooster. I'll never get over the cock jokes and the calls at the crack of dawn," Tyan sighed.
Aidana looked at the Iviowl, then at Serita, and walked through the cluster of Magisters and Inquisitors to grab a muffin. Between bites, she said, "Alright. I'll make sure the cooking doesn't burn. You calm him down and get him off the door."
"Yes, Ma'am," replied Serita as she popped the last of her muffin into her mouth. She moved over beneath the doorframe and spoke to Iviaen in a series of soft warbles, taking off her leather belt and wrapping it around her arm, then beckoning him down.
Iviowl warbled back and flew down from the doorframe. He landed on her shoulder.
She winced slightly, muttered, "Soft claws", then warbled to him again and patted his wing.
Iviowl hooted and released his claws. He floofed up, feathers on end. He's a very floofy and slightly wide owl.
Serita looks at Lyral, "I didn't know you could do that, Mister."
Lyral shook his head, "He just did that on his own."
Serita looked thoughtfully up at the owl and hummed softly.
Iviowl seemed to be in a panic.
Lyral pinched the bridge of his nose, "Now I've dealt with a lot of things. I'm not sure how to handle the reliquary owl."
Dalaen walked in, "Reliquary--owl?"
Lyral pointed to the Iviowl, "That's Iviaen Brightblaze."
Dalaen looked at Iviaen then began to laugh, "Oh Light, you're a hooter."
Aidana facepalmed at Dalaen, and shook her head. "That was totally not the proper reaction," she stated, her tone flat.
Serita huffed and warbled at Iviowl, grabbing a towel and walking Iviowl out of the kitchen, and into a dark room. "Aidana can finish cooking." she said, as she draped the towel over their heads. "Calm yourself, this is not permanent. They did this to you, didn't they?" she asked.
Iviowl bobbed his head.
"You will be able to change back," she said softly. "Mister Dalaen wouldn't find it funny if it were done to him." she huffed, giving the direction of the kitchen a baleful glare.
Iviowl seemed to have calmed down substantially now.
"Think of it as a- what is the spell you use to turn enemies into a sheep? That spell," said Serita, thinking of combat on the Broken Shore that she had witnessed, "You know your usual shape. You know the shape you are in now."
Iviowl's talons tap softly against Serita's shoulder. He then moves from her body onto the floor and arcane power swirled around his little owl body. Poof. Iviaen was... Iviaen again.
Iviaen rubbed his head, "I've got such a weird craving for meat."
Serita smiled at Iviaen, then looped the towel over her arm. "Owls eat meat. We- they- are carnivorous. You've just changed for the first time, and you're going to be ravenous. Your clothes won't fit right. Mass becomes energy used in the transformation, and it burns fuel." she explained, leading him back into the kitchen.
Iviaen looked down at his robes, "So you eat a lot all the time?"
"Have you seen how much meat we go through?" She asked, then chuckled, "You should see Nuada after a flight."
"I presume you also don't shift a whole lot. You just remain in your wingy forms," Iviaen rubbed his chin.
"We shift a lot at first. The wingy form is a negotiation," she replied. "I do not use it here, there are too many people, and I do not think that the Lord would like talon marks in his furniture."
She rummaged until she found another bottle of whiskey, then poured a glass full and handed it to Iviaen, along with a hunk of sausage scavenged from the cooler, which she sliced into small chunks and presented to him on a plate. The paladin pointedly ignored the rest of the kitchen's occupants as she did this. She handed him a fork, held out the platter for him, and said, "You will have little control these first few days. Drink the whiskey, eat the sausage; the liquor will calm you, the sausage is meat."
Iviaen inhaled both the whiskey and the meat, his stomach growled.
Lyral eyed Iviaen but kept his distance, "I think he's been through enough for one day. Where's the other one?"
Tyan pinched the bridge of his nose, "Keylorian. Where's Keylorian?"
Dalaen pointed up, upstairs.
Serita found half of a leftover roast and sliced a generous portion, then repeated the same cutting that she had done with the sausage, and slid the cut roast onto the plate. "I know you are hungry, but try to eat slowly. You are teaching your owl what is good, and how to be Sin'dorei."
Iviaen took a fork and knife and began to slowly eat the food, proper posture, proper manners, he paused, "Carve and shred those chickens, then stick the shredded chicken in a pot and pour the spiced glaze from one of the other pots in, then add the rice, and stir."
Kailias was still sitting at the table. He didn't seem at all alarmed by any of this, at least not any more so than he was before. He simply sipped his tea.
Dalaen Dushallow, the prissy athletic magister resident of the Pyreanor, with his long wavy auburn hair and nightgown robes, stirred from his slumber long before the rest of the critically wounded, he opened his eyes and glanced around the room then at the IV in his arm, "Oh Light no, get that shit out of my arm. Get it out!"
A tall figure with white hair in priest robes walked over to Dalaen, his eyes sunken in and baggy from lack of sleep and possibly dehydration, "What?" This was Zan's partner, Tyan Sunbrand, who remained at the side of those injured in the attack on the Pyreanor.
Dalaen went into a panic, his ears lowered and he started to shake, he let out a frantic, "Get that shit out of my arm now!"
"You've lost a lot of blood, they have been giving you transfusions and hydration and calories through that," the priest explained in a firm but gentle tone.
"Get. It. Out," Dalaen seemed both forceful and frightened, his voice strained, his breath heavy.
Tyan let out a deep sigh then took the bedridden elf's arm into his hands, "Does the brave Dalaen Dushallow have a phobia? Take a deep breath."
Dalaen took a deep breath then gave a nod.
Tyan paused the saline drip then he carefully removed the catheter from Dalaen's arm, put pressure on the wound, and then mended it closed.
Dalaen got out of bed, stumbled from the room, opened a portal, leapt through it, then the portal closed behind him. He would have none of this bullshit.
Tyan rubbed his temples, "Fantastic." He put his hand up to his com device, "Dalaen just escaped from the infirmary. Jayir, is he over with you?"
"Hold on, let me check," replied Jay. Several minutes later the Pyreanor cousin replied, "No."
Tyan wrung his hands as if he wanted to choke a certain Magi, "Very well, let me know if he turns up."
Dalaen stepped into the control room, onto the linoleum tile, the dark, metal, and magic reinforced walls of the room, and moved over to the island part of the young male elf's desk and leaned heavily upon it. While he still had his jewelry, he was no longer wearing his fancy silken night robe; he instead wore a standard white hospital gown that closed in back.
The young man, Westalen , was an awkward looking black haired man with violet tinkerers' goggles that had an assortment of magnifying glasses on them. He wore a violet vest and black slacks. The young elf looked Dalaen over, opened his mouth to say something, stopped himself, and then finally spoke, "You look like death. Let me help you." He rose, walked over to Dalaen's side, slipped his shoulder under one of Dalaen's arms, and grabbed Dalaen's arm with his hand. He led Dalaen to the sitting room, then into one of the guest bedrooms.
The elderly Magistrix, Lady Phoenixfall, wore her silvered hair in a tight bun and crimson robes typical of a Magistrix, entered the room, looked Dalaen up and down from the doorway, and covered her mouth.
Westalen pulled back the sheets and ushered Dalaen into the bed then pulled the covers up, he fidgeted awkwardly and quickly left the room, "I'll go fix the tea and snacks."
Lady Phoenixfall pulled up a chair and looked at Dalaen, "What happened to you? Why do you look like you just escaped an infirmary?"
"I got shot. Repeatedly. Someone attacked the place I live," Dalaen explained.
Lady Phoenixfall questioned, "How did you survive?"
"Healers showed up. Also I had a few of these on me," Dalaen held up a soul stone, a wry smile crossed his lips.
Lady Phoenixfall seemed puzzled, "And they took you to an infirmary and you, despite needing healing and rest, escaped the infirmary wearing only a patient's gown, with your ass hanging out for all to see?"
Westalen walked back into the room and stood beside Lady Phoenixfall.
"I woke up and there was a tube in my arm, and it was put there by a needle. I don't like people sticking things in me," Dalaen explained.
Westalen just opened his mouth again for a moment then turned and walked away.
"Oh yes. You have a phobia of needles, I recall reading it in your file. So you came here away from the nasty medics who stuck the needle and tube in you," Lady Phoenixfall looked Dalaen over, "You're still injured, it looks like you've been healed to stability but left to recover naturally. There must have been many severe injuries to warrant that method. I'll call in a medic and have a healer work on you."
"No. I don't want one. I'll recover on my own, thanks," Dalaen snapped back at her.
Westalen returned with two teacups with tea bags in them, a tiny cup with sugar cubes, a spoon, a plate with a grilled cheese sandwich, and another plate piled high with little crackers, slices of cheese, and meats. He set the tray down on the bed's end table then handed Dalaen the sandwich then left the room again.
"So describe your attackers to me," the elderly Magistrix put two cubes of sugar in each teacup then poured the hot water from the kettle into the teacups.
"They wore masks. Like, masquerade masks that were undecorated. I don't know much about them. The alarm went off while I was relaxing, I went to see what was going on, but I forgot my shoes. There was an evacuation order but I figured someone just lit the workshop on fire with malfunctioning tinkers again and I was going to use magic to put it out," Dalaen took the sandwich and took several bites before he continued, "There was a trail of blood going upstairs, there was broken glass and combat down below. I went back to my room to fetch my shoes, came back to find Brother Sunbrand blocking my way with a light-barrier as he frantically healed his brother, other Brother Sunbrand, from arrow wounds. The idiot had also trapped Deadshot Sunrunner in the barrier so he couldn't fight." Dalaen continued to explain between bites of food, "The attackers came up to the second floor where I was trapped, with Sunbrand's barrier, Sunbrand, and Sunrunner between myself and them. They ripped the barrier down, Sunrunner grabbed Sunbrand and ran into a room, and they left me defenseless. I turned and ran for one of the nearby bedrooms but I didn't make it. I woke up in an infirmary."
Lady Phoenixfall handed Dalaen a cup of tea on a tiny platter, "Did Sunrunner and Sunbrand survive?"
Dalaen nodded, "Yeah. They were in the infirmary with me when I awoke. I left before I could ask any questions."
Phoenixfall gave a nod, "That's good. What became of Magister Brightblaze?"
Dalaen took another bite of his food and shrugged, "He probably evacuated."
"Very well then, we'll bring you food and drink every few hours, Westalen will help you to and from the bathroom if you need. Stay in bed until you're better. Sleep for now, I'll bring you a book to read later," Lady Phoenixfall instructed, her voice especially firm with her order for bed rest.
A leatherbound tome lies open on the wooden table in the makeshift office of Dalaen Duskhallow and Iviaen Brightblaze. To the book's left rests a bowl of mixed nuts, to the right, a quill and ink.
