Bird-safe morphine plus whatever effects athelas has at this point. The result somehow is this. Julien feels... almost fine, if detached, but he can still sense how upsetting this is. It just can't touch him wherever he is.

He tries to lick his own lips, mirroring. Can't. His tongue shows outside of his beak, curves to touch the point, withdraws. Shows again. It is blatantly cute, especially since his face is locked into that faintly amused intelligent look. "...Shit."

His feet pedal. They're the same, larger than human hands and with translucent scales that show red-pink with his blood. "I don't know how I'm supposed to get up. Do I..." and he starts pushing his wings down, propping his body up though his head lolls on a slack neck.