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.
