Julien heaves a huge and gusty sigh that goes on for almost ten seconds, and then draws his head back so it's over his shoulders, the S-curve of his neck hiding in feathers, which rouse enough that his face is partially obscured. Only then does he shift his feet and rise off his heels.

Small horse. Tiny car. Refrigerator box. Between the bulk of his keel and the density of feathers it's hard to tell how this came from a human body, he's so big and seemingly shapeless. His body is arranged more horizontally than vertically, especially when he doesn't feel up to holding himself upright, but like this the level of his eyes is close to what it was when all this started. His body feathers are kept ruffled and round, disarrayed against cold and unhappiness enough to feel ill.

"All right." Resignation and weariness slow his voice. "I came out here to feel better. It's not working."