"Don't touch it," he says automatically. "I don't know, I didn't look that closely." Jamil crosses his arms, looking sour. He's in a bad mood now. He's not actually angry at Kalim, but sometimes things get muddled.
"Like I said, I'd rather we don't find out. If you don't shift again, maybe it won't progress."
He doesn't really want to is the thing. He'd love to just ignore it and pretend it will go away on its own, but he knows that it won't, and it only makes sense that Kalim would be concerned, so...
Jamil sighs, gesturing Kalim to turn back around so he can inspect again. And he doesn't like it any more the second time. "Like I said, it looks like a hinge. This right here." He brushes the spot toward the front of Kalim's scalp where a metallic oblong shape is starting to emerge. "I don't know what else to tell you."
Like when his own newly-gold fingers are touched, there's sensation there – Kalim feels Jamil's fingers brush over the gold – but it's an odd feeling, dulled but somehow also heightened. The conductivity of metal. It's exceptionally strange to feel it on his head.
He shivers.
"I just wanted to know where it was," he says, swallowing. He's pointedly not entertaining the idea of it opening up, but he's glad it's not at the bottom. He flops down to sit on the end of Jamil's bed – there's not much space in here to go anywhere else, after all. "Thanks. I don't remember anything like that from when I shifted, but I wasn't really paying that much attention to my head back then, so..."
Jamil is quiet for a moment where he sits at the other side of the bed. He wishes there was something he could say or do to make better what's happening to them, but as long as they're all trapped here they have no choice but to simply ride it out with as much dignity as they can.
Jamil is used to accepting that sort of fate for himself, but not on Kalim's behalf. It's alien to admit that there's nothing Jamil can do to help him. (He also unfortunately cannot promise that Kalim's head will not eventually become openable, considering the evidence.)
"Maybe you should, next time," is all he can think to say. "It's better to be prepared for what might happen to us."
"Right," he says, pulling his knees up to his chest. Nothing's started happening to his legs yet, but he does have the feeling it's only a matter of time. Are they just going to end up stuck like that all the time? This is something else he tries not to think about, but it takes a lot of effort to swerve around it. His shifted form is... Well, it's weird! It doesn't exactly feel wrong when he's in it, but reflecting on it afterwards makes him uncomfortable.
He glances over at Jamil. "What does it feel like when you're shifted?"
Jamil's jaw tightens imperceptibly at the question. Unlike Kalim, Jamil had only managed to shift once, during the mandatory exercises right after they'd been abducted. He still isn't quite sure what had triggered it that singular time, but he isn't entirely sure he wants to find that out either.
The problem is that it had felt really good. The surge of power that had erupted through him when he'd finally shifted had been so intoxicating, so freeing to use at will that in the throes of it he hadn't even minded how monstrous he'd become in form as a consequence. Part of him had been disappointed to return to human afterward, and the rest of him was horrified by that part. He doesn't want to crave being an abomination.
"I don't remember it very well," he lies. "Just that it was overwhelming."
Kalim laughs, a little disappointed not to get more details. "Yeah, it is kind of crazy. It feels sort of weird we can change back afterwards, right? Like... I don't know, maybe I only think that because mine is all metal, but it just feels like there shouldn't be anything left in there to make all this out of again."
Kalim's hand goes to his head again, but he puts it down quickly.
"Jamil," he huffs, without much force. "That's -- ah--"
He jolts in place, gritting his teeth. He lifts his hand again, and this time he doesn't put it down; he clutches the side of his head, grimacing in pain.
Jamil takes a second to react, assuming Kalim is just being particularly dramatic in his whining, but when Kalim continues to act like he's in real pain Jamil surges forward, settling in front of Kalim's knees.
"Kalim, what's wrong?" He's automatically going back through the meals Kalim has eaten today, even though poison makes no sense here.
"Head hurts," Kalim manages, pressing his forehead against his knees. Underneath his hair, that weird gold seam is spreading out across his skull in spiralling tendrils.
Jamil inhales sharply at the sight, dread curling in his stomach. Immediately, his hands come up to press at the sides of Kalim's head; he summons frost to his fingertips and mechanically begins massaging Kalim's temples.
"It's spreading," Jamil says tonelessly after a few seconds of this. His feelings right now feel too tumultuous to process, so he forces himself to remain calm until everything is over. Kalim is very susceptible to uncertainty. "Is this helping at all?"
Unfortunately, Jamil notices easily, as some clumps fall off onto his fingers. He carefully doesn't react, his jaw setting as he continues rubbing circles into Kalim's temples.
He'll clean it up later. He doesn't need to draw Kalim's attention to it right now.
"Let me know if it gets worse," he says evenly, watching as the filigree continues to spread further on Kalim's skull.
"Uhhuh," Kalim mumbles, gripping onto Jamil's sleeves and nodding minutely.
It doesn't actually get worse, though, at least not in terms of pain. The steady spread of the gold filigree feels like his scalp is being carved into with a knife, and Kalim spends the entire time clutching at Jamil and shaking. But when it finishes, when the seam has formed a full circle and the intricate pattern has finished forming inside it on the back of his head – then the pain stops entirely.
He looks up, hesitant and confused, his eyes a little bloodshot.
"Doesn't hurt any more," he says, his eyebrows furrowing together a little as he looks at Jamil. "But it feels really weird. Like... Like. I don't know."
It looks weird too, if Jamil is still looking. The bald sections of scalp that have been sectioned off by the gold patterns are just kind of...blackening and withering...
Jamil is definitely still looking. He's looking so hard he acts like Kalim hasn't even spoken for a few moments as he just stares numbly at what's happening to the top of Kalim's head.
"It's, um," his mouth says, detached from his brain. He can't tear his eyes away from it. He should have done something, this is--this is something he should have prevented, it's his job to keep this from happening. "Some of it's falling out. Your hair."
"O-oh," says Kalim in dismay. He nervously reaches up to touch his head, only to withdraw his hand in alarm when his fingers brush the actively desiccating flesh of his scalp. "Ah – Jamil, what's... what's happening?"
It's crumbling to nasty black dust is mainly what's happening.
Jamil grabs his hand immediately and forces it away. "Don't touch it," he says, sounding strangled. He doesn't know what to do about this. His mind is totally blank with horror as he watches Kalim's flesh wither away.
He has to stay calm, that's the first thing. He has to be in control of the situation. Smooth, like still water. "We should probably wait to do anything until the changes have finished. You said it doesn't hurt?"
Kalim's eyes flicker anxiously over Jamil's face. He drops his hand to his lap and shakes his head, sending some loose hair and decaying scalp dust into the air.
"It doesn't." He tries to keep his voice from shaking. He can tell Jamil is freaked out. "It just feels. I don't know. My head feels weird."
Jamil goes a little green when Kalim does that. He tries not to think about sweeping up bits of Kalim's withered skull later.
"Ah, weird how?" He isn't sure he wants to know, but maybe distracting Kalim with conversation will keep him from poking his fingers into the ruin of his own head.
Kalim swallows and deliberately does not nod. "Okay."
He's really, really glad Jamil was with him when this happened, he doesn't know what he'd have done if he wasn't, but he feels kind of bad about that when it's so obvious Jamil has been shaken up by whatever he just watched. He can't make it worse by freaking out more.
"Hey," he says, trying to force himself to chill out, "it really doesn't hurt any more." He reaches to put his good hand on Jamil's arm – two gold fingers and two meat ones – and looks at him hopefully. "It's, um, it's probably going to be okay."
Jamil finally looks away from the mess to meet Kalim's gaze for the first time in several minutes. Horribly, the reassuring look in Kalim's eyes in combination with the hand on his arm makes his stomach do a flop. That sucks. He pulls his arm from Kalim's grip and turns away before he can embarrass himself any further.
"I'll find a brush," he says, his voice a little high. It doesn't take him long to locate where he put his own, which isn't at all hygienic but he doesn't feel comfortable leaving Kalim alone to find another one right now, so he'll just have to burn this one and get a new one. It's Fine.
He settles in behind Kalim without further comment so he can prepare to brush away the remaining decayed brain matter, or whatever it is left clinging to the newly formed gold filigree that now constitutes Kalim's scalp. Lovely.
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"Like I said, I'd rather we don't find out. If you don't shift again, maybe it won't progress."
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"Right," he says, frowning. He's not so sure about that. "Uhh... could you take a closer look? Sorry! I can't see back there myself..."
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Jamil sighs, gesturing Kalim to turn back around so he can inspect again. And he doesn't like it any more the second time. "Like I said, it looks like a hinge. This right here." He brushes the spot toward the front of Kalim's scalp where a metallic oblong shape is starting to emerge. "I don't know what else to tell you."
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He shivers.
"I just wanted to know where it was," he says, swallowing. He's pointedly not entertaining the idea of it opening up, but he's glad it's not at the bottom. He flops down to sit on the end of Jamil's bed – there's not much space in here to go anywhere else, after all. "Thanks. I don't remember anything like that from when I shifted, but I wasn't really paying that much attention to my head back then, so..."
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Jamil is used to accepting that sort of fate for himself, but not on Kalim's behalf. It's alien to admit that there's nothing Jamil can do to help him. (He also unfortunately cannot promise that Kalim's head will not eventually become openable, considering the evidence.)
"Maybe you should, next time," is all he can think to say. "It's better to be prepared for what might happen to us."
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"Right," he says, pulling his knees up to his chest. Nothing's started happening to his legs yet, but he does have the feeling it's only a matter of time. Are they just going to end up stuck like that all the time? This is something else he tries not to think about, but it takes a lot of effort to swerve around it. His shifted form is... Well, it's weird! It doesn't exactly feel wrong when he's in it, but reflecting on it afterwards makes him uncomfortable.
He glances over at Jamil. "What does it feel like when you're shifted?"
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The problem is that it had felt really good. The surge of power that had erupted through him when he'd finally shifted had been so intoxicating, so freeing to use at will that in the throes of it he hadn't even minded how monstrous he'd become in form as a consequence. Part of him had been disappointed to return to human afterward, and the rest of him was horrified by that part. He doesn't want to crave being an abomination.
"I don't remember it very well," he lies. "Just that it was overwhelming."
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"What, afraid you'll end up literally brainless now?"
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"Jamil," he huffs, without much force. "That's -- ah--"
He jolts in place, gritting his teeth. He lifts his hand again, and this time he doesn't put it down; he clutches the side of his head, grimacing in pain.
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"Kalim, what's wrong?" He's automatically going back through the meals Kalim has eaten today, even though poison makes no sense here.
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thank you for using that icon
"It's spreading," Jamil says tonelessly after a few seconds of this. His feelings right now feel too tumultuous to process, so he forces himself to remain calm until everything is over. Kalim is very susceptible to uncertainty. "Is this helping at all?"
unfortunately its just appropriate to this scene
At the very least, he can't feel that his hair is starting to fall out in between the gold patterns.
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He'll clean it up later. He doesn't need to draw Kalim's attention to it right now.
"Let me know if it gets worse," he says evenly, watching as the filigree continues to spread further on Kalim's skull.
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It doesn't actually get worse, though, at least not in terms of pain. The steady spread of the gold filigree feels like his scalp is being carved into with a knife, and Kalim spends the entire time clutching at Jamil and shaking. But when it finishes, when the seam has formed a full circle and the intricate pattern has finished forming inside it on the back of his head – then the pain stops entirely.
He looks up, hesitant and confused, his eyes a little bloodshot.
"Doesn't hurt any more," he says, his eyebrows furrowing together a little as he looks at Jamil. "But it feels really weird. Like... Like. I don't know."
It looks weird too, if Jamil is still looking. The bald sections of scalp that have been sectioned off by the gold patterns are just kind of...blackening and withering...
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"It's, um," his mouth says, detached from his brain. He can't tear his eyes away from it. He should have done something, this is--this is something he should have prevented, it's his job to keep this from happening. "Some of it's falling out. Your hair."
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It's crumbling to nasty black dust is mainly what's happening.
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He has to stay calm, that's the first thing. He has to be in control of the situation. Smooth, like still water. "We should probably wait to do anything until the changes have finished. You said it doesn't hurt?"
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"It doesn't." He tries to keep his voice from shaking. He can tell Jamil is freaked out. "It just feels. I don't know. My head feels weird."
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"Ah, weird how?" He isn't sure he wants to know, but maybe distracting Kalim with conversation will keep him from poking his fingers into the ruin of his own head.
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"Stay seated, don't try to walk around until you adjust. I'll," he swallows, "clean it up in the meanwhile."
He doesn't move just yet. What does he even use for this? A hairbrush? Holy shit.
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He's really, really glad Jamil was with him when this happened, he doesn't know what he'd have done if he wasn't, but he feels kind of bad about that when it's so obvious Jamil has been shaken up by whatever he just watched. He can't make it worse by freaking out more.
"Hey," he says, trying to force himself to chill out, "it really doesn't hurt any more." He reaches to put his good hand on Jamil's arm – two gold fingers and two meat ones – and looks at him hopefully. "It's, um, it's probably going to be okay."
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"I'll find a brush," he says, his voice a little high. It doesn't take him long to locate where he put his own, which isn't at all hygienic but he doesn't feel comfortable leaving Kalim alone to find another one right now, so he'll just have to burn this one and get a new one. It's Fine.
He settles in behind Kalim without further comment so he can prepare to brush away the remaining decayed brain matter, or whatever it is left clinging to the newly formed gold filigree that now constitutes Kalim's scalp. Lovely.
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