Jamil pauses before responding, making sure that he winds the fabric around Kalim's head just right. It makes him feel better to see the lid covered up. It's easier to pretend things are normal.
He considers lying to save Kalim's feelings, but there's really no point; he'll find out eventually.
"You have an opening back here now," he says tightly. "Like a lid, that opens at that hinge I told you about." Is that enough? Should he say something else? What would make it better??? "It's gold and has quite detailed filigree work. It's rather pretty, actually."
That's mostly not really a surprise, but he doesn't know how to feel about that last part. He's definitely glad if it looks nice -- he was determinedly not trying to imagine what it might look like, but imagine if it had been really horrible and gory -- but isn't it also kind of weird, for it to look nice when it's a literal hole in his head?
He hesitates. "Could you... take a picture? So I can see it?"
Jamil sighs. "Kalim, I just finished putting this on."
It's not a real protest, though, because Jamil would probably want to see it too if it were him. He's already fishing the Syntrofos from his pocket with one hand while he unwinds the mostly-done turban with the other.
Cater would criticize his framing, probably, but it gets the job done. Jamil keeps Kalim in place as he hands him the phone from behind, so that Kalim doesn't unbalance and pitch over from trying to turn and look. Hopefully he'll adjust soon but, well, Jamil has been load-bearing while Kalim recovers plenty of times before.
Without really thinking about it, Kalim leans into his support a little as he takes the phone to look.
"Oh... wow," he murmurs, blinking at the photo. He swallows. "That's..." That's really the back of his head? There's so much nothing behind the filigreed lid. It is kind of reassuring to see that his head is still...head-shaped, that at least it isn't cut off flat or concave even though the mass that the rounded shape should contain is now gone. But it's creepy to look at.
He doesn't say any of that. He doesn't want to dwell on it the way he'd have to if they talked about it like that, and he doesn't want to make Jamil any more worried than he has already.
"...You're right," he says. "It really is kind of pretty, huh?"
It is creepy to look at. Jamil hates it, actually, and he starts re-draping Kalim's turban as soon as Kalim is satisfied. It's much easier for him to pretend there isn't now a hole in Kalim's head that way.
"Look on the bright side," he says drily. "You could be getting scales."
Kalim laughs, tilting his head back to look at Jamil. Might as well get used to the way moving his head around feels now. "The scales aren't that bad! I think they're kind of pretty too."
The flaking skin thing is NOT pretty. But the shiny, fresh scales underneath... an argument could be made!
Jamil scratches at his cheek self-consciously, the first time he's let himself do so all night. He isn't vain the way Vil Schoenheit is, but it's still disquieting to see on your own face in the mirror every day. And...
"It's not just that, actually." Jamil elects to demonstrate rather than explain: he opens his mouth and pulls back his cheek, revealing the tip of a snake-like fang beginning to emerge from his gums near his canine. His tongue also is beginning to elongate and fork, the tip falling just past the edge of his teeth, but it's obvious there's a long way to go before the transformation is complete.
"Huh?" Kalim shuffles round to face Jamil instead of looking at him upside down. His eyes widen immediately and he leans forward to get a better look – way too close, but what else is new. With his good hand, he grasps Jamil's jaw, thumb on his lower lip. "Whoah – your tongue??"
Jamil realizes a split-second too late what he's brought on himself and only manages an inarticulate "whugh" of protest before Kalim's hand is on his mouth and his instincts prevent him from doing anything to harm Kalim by accident. Typically, he proceeds to go bright red and jerks his head back, putting a healthy distance between their faces again.
"Kalim!" Jamil claps a hand over his mouth, looking scandalized.
Kalim blinks. He of course didn't think about what he was doing -- Jamil touches his face all the time -- but this is hardly the first time something it's fine for Jamil to do to him has turned out not to be okay for him to do to Jamil.
Jamil usually doesn't react this strongly, though.
"Ah, my bad," Kalim says after a moment, sitting back slightly.
Usually Jamil isn't so self-conscious of Kalim's proximity to his face. Unfortunately he has Feelings now and such are the consequences.
He's a little thrown by how readily Kalim backs off, though. Right, of course--Kalim respects his boundaries now. Just in time for Jamil to maybe kind of sort of not want him to.
"Don't just grab at my face like that," he mutters, slowly bringing his hand down from his mouth. He's still blushing, but at least his nerves are settling. "But yes, my whole mouth seems to be changing shape."
Is that why Jamil reacted like that? Because of the changes? It must have been, right? Come to think of it, though... hasn't he kind of been acting like this a lot lately? Pretty much since they got here, actually... Jamil has been getting way more flustered way more easily.
A terrible thought strikes Kalim. What if he suspects something? What if he's noticed? When they had to put their foreheads together for the imprinting thing, what if he figured it out then? Or -- worse, what if it was before then? Kalim abruptly remembers that in the dream world Idia had told them they could use his app to watch each other's dreams. He doesn't remember Jamil looking at his, but -- well, he could have! Kalim knows he isn't very observant! What if something in his dream tipped Jamil off, and now when Kalim holds his hand or grabs his arm or touches his clothes or gets really close to him or any of the other things he does all the time without thinking about it because that's just what he's always done, Jamil thinks he's -- trying to hit on him or something?
He'd... say something, right? He'd make fun of him. He wouldn't let Kalim save face over this. There's no way. Right?
He isn't sure. He doesn't know what Jamil would do.
Kalim abruptly elects to slam the lid shut on this horrible train of thought. There's nothing he can do about it now. He'll just, just do his best to be less touchy-feely and otherwise not worry about it. No problem.
He tunes back into the matter at hand, looking slightly haunted. He's absolutely just gone on a weird face journey over this and isn't conscious of it at all.
"Your whole mouth," he repeats, frowning. That's actually a way bigger deal than the stuff Kalim was just worrying about! Sheesh, he fees bad now. "Um, does it hurt?"
Jamil watches this face journey with no little alarm of his own, though he does a much better job than Kalim at keeping his thoughts under wraps. Is he being too obvious? No, there's no way Kalim could possibly keep his thoughts to himself. Jamil is clearly doing something noticeable, though, so he needs to be better about keeping himself under control.
What a normal and straightforward conversation they are both having.
"...Sometimes," Jamil admits. "Just for a moment, every so often. I think my jaw may be realigning somehow."
Kalim tries not to grimace. He goes to sheepishly rub the back of his head, but realises at the last minute that uhhh that's a bad idea now. Whoops. He lowers his hand.
"So you're, like, turning into a snake...? That's kind of on the nose, don't you think?" He laughs weakly.
Maybe who or whatever made the choice to pull them here saw his name and thought they'd be a little funny. The thought of it just puts him in a bad mood, so he'd rather it be a coincidence. And if he is turning into a snake, he'd rather not think about what that might look like further down the line. He'd prefer to stay as human as possible, as much as that matters to anyone.
Jamil eyes Kalim's movements, any body language or behavior other than Kalim's typical setting his nerves on edge. "Tell me immediately if you feel anything else happen."
"Huh–? Oh! Yeah. I will." He almost reaches out to grab Jamil's hand, but stops himself at the last second. Nailed it. "You too, though, okay? That mouth stuff sounds kind of scary. I wanna help, if I can!"
Jamil brings a hand to his cheek self-consciously, looking away. The problem is that there isn't a good reason for Jamil to refuse Kalim in this instance--unfortunately, they're imprinted now, and thus being around each other does help with riding out the more unpleasant changes--other than the truth, which Jamil will never admit under pain of death.
He weighs the prospect of having to suffer through changes alone against Kalim holding his hand even more in the foreseeable future and having to pretend he's not having feelings about it.
Well, at least he can always change his mind later if he wants. "Fine. I'll... try to tell you if something else starts to happen."
Kalim's face lights up as if Jamil has agreed to do him a huge favour. This time he can't stop himself from reaching for Jamil's hand. The imprinting thing really makes it a lot harder to resist.
"I know imprinting and everything is really weird, but I'm glad it makes some of this stuff easier," he says, hoping vaguely that bringing that up will make it less obvious that he has ulterior hand-holding motives. "I want to be able to take care of you, too."
Jamil stares down at their joined hands as if it was an animal about to bite him. As soon as Kalim touched him, he'd been blanketed in a sense of peace, and he hates it. Associating Kalim with this feeling is dangerous. Kalim holding Jamil's hand like this, looking at him like that, fills Jamil with such an overwhelming, unfamiliar feeling that he thinks he could burst at the seams somehow if he just looks at Kalim for too long, and he's terrified of finding out what that will look like if it happens. He may literally rather die, actually.
Jamil swallows. "I'll let you know," he says tightly, a moment before taking his hand back as kindly as he can manage. "There's nothing you can do to help me right now, though. How are you adjusting? Have you gotten back your balance yet?"
(...Oh no. What if Kalim needs imprinting to fully recover. Jamil will maybe not bring that up.)
Kalim smiles, almost apologetically, as Jamil removes his hand. His own hand feels cold now they're not touching any more, and it's partially the imprinting but also, well, what else is new.
"It feels better with you here," he admits. "Can I stay in your room for a bit? I promise I won't bug you."
"That's fine," Jamil says immediately. He doesn't really want to let Kalim out of his sight right now, despite his reluctance to make their bond stronger, and if Jamil's presence can help with Kalim's recovery without him having to make physical contact all the better. "Do you need to eat? I can make you something small."
There's not much room to keep supplies in their little gifted repurposed motel rooms, but Jamil has enough squirreled away to make a basic snack every so often without having to go all the way to the shared kitchen. And this way Kalim can stay put and not fall over and injure himself.
"Oh... yeah. I think I'm hungry, actually," Kalim says. He has to think about it, though. He is hungry, but it doesn't feel the same as usual, and he isn't sure how to explain how it does feel. He frowns. "That would be really great. Thanks, Jamil."
"Stay there," Jamil says and gets up to gather his things.
Unfortunately there's very little able to be stored without even a provided minifridge, so they'll have to resort to the age-old tradition of canned fish and crackers. Jamil gets as fancy with it as he's able, mostly out of something to do; the helpless anxiety of the aftermath reminds him of those times when Kalim recovering from poison was still a regular occurrence, before it became Jamil's problem, when all Jamil could think to do was just do his job without complaint for once, as if quieting his own negative energy would restore balance to the world faster.
Actually, maybe he goes a little overboard: he ends up with an impromptu snack platter, with basic hard crackers, tinned salmon and mackerel, efficiently-sliced hard cheese, and a few options of dried herbs spread out for Kalim to arrange as he likes. (And also Jamil, because voiding his stomach earlier has made him pretty hungry too, as it happens.)
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He considers lying to save Kalim's feelings, but there's really no point; he'll find out eventually.
"You have an opening back here now," he says tightly. "Like a lid, that opens at that hinge I told you about." Is that enough? Should he say something else? What would make it better??? "It's gold and has quite detailed filigree work. It's rather pretty, actually."
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That's mostly not really a surprise, but he doesn't know how to feel about that last part. He's definitely glad if it looks nice -- he was determinedly not trying to imagine what it might look like, but imagine if it had been really horrible and gory -- but isn't it also kind of weird, for it to look nice when it's a literal hole in his head?
He hesitates. "Could you... take a picture? So I can see it?"
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It's not a real protest, though, because Jamil would probably want to see it too if it were him. He's already fishing the Syntrofos from his pocket with one hand while he unwinds the mostly-done turban with the other.
Cater would criticize his framing, probably, but it gets the job done. Jamil keeps Kalim in place as he hands him the phone from behind, so that Kalim doesn't unbalance and pitch over from trying to turn and look. Hopefully he'll adjust soon but, well, Jamil has been load-bearing while Kalim recovers plenty of times before.
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"Oh... wow," he murmurs, blinking at the photo. He swallows. "That's..." That's really the back of his head? There's so much nothing behind the filigreed lid. It is kind of reassuring to see that his head is still...head-shaped, that at least it isn't cut off flat or concave even though the mass that the rounded shape should contain is now gone. But it's creepy to look at.
He doesn't say any of that. He doesn't want to dwell on it the way he'd have to if they talked about it like that, and he doesn't want to make Jamil any more worried than he has already.
"...You're right," he says. "It really is kind of pretty, huh?"
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"Look on the bright side," he says drily. "You could be getting scales."
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The flaking skin thing is NOT pretty. But the shiny, fresh scales underneath... an argument could be made!
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"It's not just that, actually." Jamil elects to demonstrate rather than explain: he opens his mouth and pulls back his cheek, revealing the tip of a snake-like fang beginning to emerge from his gums near his canine. His tongue also is beginning to elongate and fork, the tip falling just past the edge of his teeth, but it's obvious there's a long way to go before the transformation is complete.
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"Kalim!" Jamil claps a hand over his mouth, looking scandalized.
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Jamil usually doesn't react this strongly, though.
"Ah, my bad," Kalim says after a moment, sitting back slightly.
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He's a little thrown by how readily Kalim backs off, though. Right, of course--Kalim respects his boundaries now. Just in time for Jamil to maybe kind of sort of not want him to.
"Don't just grab at my face like that," he mutters, slowly bringing his hand down from his mouth. He's still blushing, but at least his nerves are settling. "But yes, my whole mouth seems to be changing shape."
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A terrible thought strikes Kalim. What if he suspects something? What if he's noticed? When they had to put their foreheads together for the imprinting thing, what if he figured it out then? Or -- worse, what if it was before then? Kalim abruptly remembers that in the dream world Idia had told them they could use his app to watch each other's dreams. He doesn't remember Jamil looking at his, but -- well, he could have! Kalim knows he isn't very observant! What if something in his dream tipped Jamil off, and now when Kalim holds his hand or grabs his arm or touches his clothes or gets really close to him or any of the other things he does all the time without thinking about it because that's just what he's always done, Jamil thinks he's -- trying to hit on him or something?
He'd... say something, right? He'd make fun of him. He wouldn't let Kalim save face over this. There's no way. Right?
He isn't sure. He doesn't know what Jamil would do.
Kalim abruptly elects to slam the lid shut on this horrible train of thought. There's nothing he can do about it now. He'll just, just do his best to be less touchy-feely and otherwise not worry about it. No problem.
He tunes back into the matter at hand, looking slightly haunted. He's absolutely just gone on a weird face journey over this and isn't conscious of it at all.
"Your whole mouth," he repeats, frowning. That's actually a way bigger deal than the stuff Kalim was just worrying about! Sheesh, he fees bad now. "Um, does it hurt?"
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What a normal and straightforward conversation they are both having.
"...Sometimes," Jamil admits. "Just for a moment, every so often. I think my jaw may be realigning somehow."
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"So you're, like, turning into a snake...? That's kind of on the nose, don't you think?" He laughs weakly.
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Maybe who or whatever made the choice to pull them here saw his name and thought they'd be a little funny. The thought of it just puts him in a bad mood, so he'd rather it be a coincidence. And if he is turning into a snake, he'd rather not think about what that might look like further down the line. He'd prefer to stay as human as possible, as much as that matters to anyone.
Jamil eyes Kalim's movements, any body language or behavior other than Kalim's typical setting his nerves on edge. "Tell me immediately if you feel anything else happen."
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"There's not much you can do about it," he huffs, "it's not like--"
Having your brain fall out is where he wants to take that sentence, but it isn't funny even in his own head, so he just sort of trails off awkwardly.
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He weighs the prospect of having to suffer through changes alone against Kalim holding his hand even more in the foreseeable future and having to pretend he's not having feelings about it.
Well, at least he can always change his mind later if he wants. "Fine. I'll... try to tell you if something else starts to happen."
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"I know imprinting and everything is really weird, but I'm glad it makes some of this stuff easier," he says, hoping vaguely that bringing that up will make it less obvious that he has ulterior hand-holding motives. "I want to be able to take care of you, too."
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Jamil swallows. "I'll let you know," he says tightly, a moment before taking his hand back as kindly as he can manage. "There's nothing you can do to help me right now, though. How are you adjusting? Have you gotten back your balance yet?"
(...Oh no. What if Kalim needs imprinting to fully recover. Jamil will maybe not bring that up.)
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"It feels better with you here," he admits. "Can I stay in your room for a bit? I promise I won't bug you."
This is an exceedingly flimsy promise.
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There's not much room to keep supplies in their little gifted repurposed motel rooms, but Jamil has enough squirreled away to make a basic snack every so often without having to go all the way to the shared kitchen. And this way Kalim can stay put and not fall over and injure himself.
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Unfortunately there's very little able to be stored without even a provided minifridge, so they'll have to resort to the age-old tradition of canned fish and crackers. Jamil gets as fancy with it as he's able, mostly out of something to do; the helpless anxiety of the aftermath reminds him of those times when Kalim recovering from poison was still a regular occurrence, before it became Jamil's problem, when all Jamil could think to do was just do his job without complaint for once, as if quieting his own negative energy would restore balance to the world faster.
Actually, maybe he goes a little overboard: he ends up with an impromptu snack platter, with basic hard crackers, tinned salmon and mackerel, efficiently-sliced hard cheese, and a few options of dried herbs spread out for Kalim to arrange as he likes. (And also Jamil, because voiding his stomach earlier has made him pretty hungry too, as it happens.)
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