Timothy is a kind lad to a default, a trait certainly not inherited from either of his parents but rather from his nursemaid, a kind, sincere woman. He is also quick-witted and highly intelligent, showing his smarts in day-to-day life. Timothy even works well during stressful situations to solve a problem, though he would never admit to such. He has an inferiority complex hammered into his skull by his father. As a result, Timothy is timid, especially towards those the young man views above himself, either in social standings or stature, which is pretty much everyone. He’s not a coward, though. Timothy got in the thick like any other man when the bullets started flying during the war. He shows himself even at times to be heroic, braving immense danger for the sake of others. He is also rather pragmatic and quick to adapt to change.
While possessing some positive qualities, one could argue that he is also, at times, sly and dishonest. He might lie to get what he wants and twist the truth, so others do not look upon him disfavourably. And being an Edwardian Era man ‘awakened’ into the 21st Century, he possesses some outdated views on things such as women, race, etc. Nothing that a bit of education cannot fix, however.
They couldn't find out about his homosexuality. He'd find a way to cure himself, to cleanse himself of sin. This he promised to himself.
Later overcome with guilt over what was considered in the eyes of the public as 'sinful', Timothy sought the confidential ear and holy counsel of Father Murdoch, the church priest to which his family had always attended.
Timothy confided in him, and Father Murdoch listened, saying unto Timothy, "If a man lies with a male as with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination; they shall surely be put to death; their blood is upon them." Timothy asked then if he should also be punished for what he had done.
"God have mercy on sinners. After all, he who is without sin may cast the first stone." Said back the preacher.
Timothy left, having found no sense of comfort in the house of God.
Sometime later, Timothy's father confronted him and revealed that he knew of his son's homosexuality, no doubt because Father Murdoch broke his vow of silence and revealed this. And to say that Robert was furious would be an understatement. Poor Timothy was not only verbally abused but beaten around the house, all while his mother looked on and did nothing. After all, a woman could do nothing, even if she had wanted to.
The Kanima is a creature of vengeance that is not born out of the hard shell of an egg, nor birthed out of the warm comfort of a mother's womb. No, the Kanima is created in a number of different ways. It is, in some ways, an abomination.
It can be 'born' when magic meant to transform the body goes wrong, like the bite of a werewolf or even that of a vampire. Specific rituals and spells are also said to be able to cause this aberration.
But no matter the intended outcome, something goes terribly wrong, and the transformation is corrupted. This is because of the transformed persons' inherent feeling that they lack a personal identity.
As a result, the kanima doesn't know what or who it is. It is confused by its own reflection. The creature intentionally seeks out a Master, one to become enslaved by and form a bond with. It is a creature of vengeance, so it will naturally only come to accept a master who has revenge at heart.
Though there is one condition that the Master is obligated to follow, the Kanima is not to be ordered to claim the life of an innocent. If this rule is violated, the master will slowly transform into a Kanima, and the two creatures will part ways, each seeking a new master. Lastly, the Kanima cannot become what it was meant to be until it has regained its identity and resolved whatever issue that created it.
For the most part, the person who is a Kanima will appear normal. However, at certain particularly stressful times, or when the master so chooses, the person will start to transform into a monster, partially or fully. When a kanima is fully transformed, it becomes reptilian in appearance, with snake-like eyes, razor-sharp claws and teeth, and a dark-green scaley hide that acts like armour. Finally, it possesses a long and powerful prehensile tail which it uses for combat and balance. In this form, it can climb vertical walls similar to a lizard and is frighteningly strong. It can heal from injuries that would kill most living beings, such as an arrow to the skull. It can even regrow lost limbs within a matter of hours. A Kanima's claws also secrete a potent neurotoxic venom that renders their victims paralysed for an extended period of time. Often this is administered via a slash to the back of the neck, though it can also spread simply by being in direct contact with the venom itself.
The Master is the one controlling the creature.
Notes of notice;
I have been writing for 10+ years. I may be picky about who I write with.
I suffer from bipolar disorder, which sometimes affects the quality of the replies or the time it takes for me to reply.
My main account is Dracula, and I welcome those characters who may not vibe with Timothy to try there.
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In the wake of a more positive atmosphere, they stop back at the house where Zach finally lets go of Timothy's hand. He heads to his bedroom, drags out a skateboard from beneath his bed, and returns down the stairs with it tucked under his arm. At this point in the afternoon, there are a few other people milling about the home. Zach exchanges friendly words, nothing too meaningful, and offers an impromptu invite to three others. They accept as Zach snags a bottle of not-too-expensive whiskey from the kitchen cabinet.
"Catch up with us later, we're going now," he declares before departing with a loose gesture made for Timothy to follow him.
Once outdoors, Zach starts along the path in the opposite direction they came from. His hand shakes the bottle in his hand as if to entice Timothy. "Two birds with one phone," he says, unknowingly butchering the idiom.
They walk no longer than five minutes before they come to an almost empty parking lot still within the campus' property. Zach places his skateboard on nearby grass and sits down on the edge of the curb. He opens the bottle and sniffs the contents. It burns his throat and almost makes him cough, but he can't expect too much when he knows this bottle is cheap. Daringly, he takes a quick swig from the bottle, immediately feeling his mouth heat up. He makes a face, but looks mostly pleased with himself as he offers the bottle to Timothy.
"A little kick starter to wake up my inner professional skateboarder," he says playfully. He twists to pick up his skateboard from behind himself. then stands. With a light toss, he plants the skateboard on the asphalt, then stills it with a foot on the back of it. In a controlled motion, he sways the board back and forth on its wheels, then jumps on with both feet to cruise along slowly. He makes a slow, wide circle; never straying too far. "Can you skateboard?"
The call of his name pierces through the train of thought that was monopolizing Zach's attention. His expression drops in soft surprise as he is turned by the hand to look at Timothy. Caught off guard by the sincere question, Zach experiences a sense of whiplash and he subconsciously squeezes Timothy's hand in reaction. "Yeah," he replies quick, unthinkingly before he shakes his head with a small frown. "No, I'm sorry. I'm a little annoyed about the whole thing, " quieter, he adds, "I'm just worried about you."
"Thank you from the bottom of my little scaly heart.”
Before Zach can even stop it, a scoff of laughter bubbles up from his throat. His free hand slaps across his smiling mouth as he looks at Timothy in both disbelief and amusement. There's sunlight warming his skin and glittering in Timothy's eyes; it's all so far away from snowy mountains and inky shadows. Enough to melt away the frustration and leave contentment in its wake.
"Should we do something fun?" Zach suggests, his tone light and hopeful. Thoughtful, he glances up and down the mostly empty street as he runs through a list of possibilities. "Can you skateboard?" He asks, suddenly tugging on Timothy's hand and leading him back in the direction they came from. For all Timothy's concerns about their joined hands, it seems as if Zach never gave it second thought.
The friend gives Timothy an almost sympathetic look when he speaks up. A shrug follows it as he lowers the light from the man's face. "He's perfectly fine," he announces, "no lizard-like symptoms as far as I can tell." Sarcasm is dripping heavily in his tone. He gives Zach an exasperated look before standing and moving across the room.
Perking up from his spot on the floor, Zach's gaze follows his friend eagerly. "That's it? Nothing?"
Shaking a pill bottle picked up from the shelf, the friend throws a dismissive hand through the air without turning to look at either man occupying his lounge. "If you're actually concerned, take him to a real doctor. I'm a student, I haven't even done my residency yet. Besides, turning into a lizard isn't exactly covered by any book I've read." As he turns, he gives both men an accusatory glare. "You sure you didn't take any drugs?"
Frustrated, Zach scoffs and picks himself up from the floor. He moves around the table and reaches for Timothy's wrist to goad him into standing. A scathing remark about the unhelpfulness of his so-called friend burns at the back of Zach's throat, but he swallows it down behind clenched teeth. Quick as he can he exits the residence. Before the door closes, he faintly hears don't forget about that coffee you owe me.
The cool wind calms Zach down a little. His shoulders grow slack before he turns to Timothy with an apologetic smile. "Sorry about that. He's a good guy, I swear. But man, he's such an asshole sometimes." He lets go of Timothy's wrist and thrusts his hands deep into his pockets as if to restrain himself from grabbing at Timothy once more. Then, he bounds down the stairs and steers back onto the sidewalk.
It's a nice day out for walking aimlessly around. Usually, it would bring Zach peace. Today, however, he feels stuck and irritated by the thought that there is little he can do to help Timothy. Something had happened back at the hospital. The gruesome scene flickers in his mind's eye for a moment, blurring with similarly gruesome scenes from his past. He near winces. Wendigo? Could Timothy be a wendigo? In his silence, he wonders if it is worth trying to contact someone who might know a thing or two about wendigos. But who could that possibly be? All this thinking will give Zach a headache.
Zach's friend is significantly shorter, although not less intimidating by the lines of his frown or the arms folded across his chest. He paints an unwelcoming image despite lifting his chin to maintain eye contact with Timothy. It might be the dark circles under his eyes or the drawn curtains blocking the sun, but if Zach were the sun, this man would be the moon. Dumbfounded at Timothy's introduction, he lifts a brow.
"Where the Hell did you find this freak?" He says to Zach, uncaring of Timothy.
Looking equally as weirded out, Zach shrugs as he delivers an awkward smile. Then, he gestures to Timothy vaguely. "Could you check him out? I don't really know how to explain this but I'm worried he might be sick."
"Looks fine to me. Mentally, though, I can't confirm."
"Dude," Zach emphasizes, looking slightly out of character when irritated.
The friend sighs (or scoffs) loudly and throws his hands up. He turns away and starts clearing a stack of papers off a coffee table as he speaks. "Symptoms? Chest pain, insomnia, dehydration. If this is another hangover I'll gut you both, what is it?" Finally, he sits down and tilts his chin even higher to look at Zach and Timothy. Zach hesitates.
"Hurry up, what is it?"
"He, uh... become a kind of lizard?" Zach tires.
There is an awkward silence for a beat. Then another. Eventually, in a voice that is measured and flat, Zach's friend says, "get the Hell out of my house and stop taking those drugs."
"Oh, my God!" Zach shouts, finally reaching his breaking point, it seems. He takes Timothy by the arm and pulls him closer. "Look at him, please. I didn't take anything, I swear. Just a quick look and if you say everything is fine, we'll leave. I'll even buy you a coffee."
Zach can't say for sure what part of his begging made the man change his mind, but there is a sigh followed by a loss of tension in his friend's brow. He's soon gesturing for Timothy to take a seat next to him. With no space left for Zach, he sits on the floor on the opposite side of the coffee table. Back straight and his gaze focused.
Only by uttering soft commands like 'follow the light' and 'open your mouth' does Zach's friend begin what resembles an ordinary medical check-up. He is somewhat rushed; he looks like he has not slept the night before and has next to no patience for the both of them. Still, he is observant enough to identify something odd. He pauses, a cellphone flashlight beaming into Timothy's eyes. "Huh."
"What?" Zach asks, rocking forward to get a closer look.
The friend turns slowly to Zach, eyebrow raised in suspicion. "Aren't these yours?" He finally says voice flat but still somehow accusatory as he gestures to the clothes that Timothy wears. Zach flinches back as if he'd been struck and shakes his head. "What's that got to do with anything, did you find something?"
If he didn't know better, Zach could have sworn he saw the man smirk as he shrugs halfheartedly. "Oh, nothing. I'm still checking. Nearly done."
Gratitude outshines the dose of guilt Zach feels for not completing his homework. He's too scattered to sit down and work his way through it himself. Feeling shy about it, Zach gives a small smile and a nod. As small as a gesture it may be, it's touching that Timothy went out of his way to ease some of the weight off Zach's shoulders. Somewhat embarrassed, he mutters a soft thanks and clears his throat. It's enough to ease the sleepy roughness in Zach's voice.
Confused by Timothy's interest in the cellphone, Zach holds it out from his body and takes a good look at it himself. It is plain and older than some other phones but works just the same. He slides his fingers over the screen, unlocks it, and passes the device to Timothy. "Wanna play with it?" He asks, expression soft and inviting.
If Timothy chooses to take the phone and look through it, he'll discover an array of apps. Two of which are games; Candy Crush and Pokemon Go. In the gallery, Zach has a large collection of photos accumulated over the last two years. Most of which are blurry and capture several individuals. There's also a long list of contacts and multiple strings of conversations between Zach and others should Timothy get curious.
When the focus is placed on Timothy's state of undress, Zach finds it suddenly difficult to make eye contact. He glances to the ceiling and moves around to retrieve a set of clothes for the other man. Sweatpants, because he's confident these will fit Timothy and a plain black shirt. Zach, with his back to the other, changes into dark jeans and a navy button-up.
---
It's a short walk, some distance further from the campus, when they reach their destination. Zach knocks on the front door of an ordinary family home before he opens the door and invites himself inside. He waves a hand at Timothy to gesture him inside too. Wading through the hallway and a door, Zach finds a young man sitting on the sofa. He half-heartedly waves at Zach then nods at Timothy.
"It's my one day off, you know."
"Thanks! This is him," Zach says, moving behind Timothy and gently pushing him forward as if he were presenting a gift.
Cute.
Zach banishes the intrusive thought from his mind. He looks Timothy up and down, a seriousness filtering between the sleepy frown he wears. When he speaks, his voice is rough from sleep. "Morning. How are you feeling?"
As for himself, he feels more ready to take on the world than he had last night. Although the events at the hospital feel as unreal as that night on the snowy mountain, it's an improvement. Zach looks at his hands and doesn't feel they belong to someone else. He looks at Timothy and is grateful for how grounding it can be to not be in his bedroom alone. Whether Timothy asks about Zach's well-being or not, he announces it out loud for his own sake. "I'm good. Tired, but good."
He slips out from next to Timothy and stretches his arms high above his head. Relieving the tension in his shoulders gives him the illusion of shaking off last night. Baby steps. Zach stands, wanders toward his desk, then does a double-take at the homework he definitely did not complete. Uhh...
"Was I dreaming last night or were you, like.." he trails off, turns to Timothy, and makes an amusing attempt at looking frightening. He bares his teeth awkwardly, holds his hands up like claws, then sighs, "like, some lizard." It might have been a funny dream had it not been disturbingly real. Zach is frowning, clearly at war with himself in his head. Nothing about that memory feels like a dream, but there's no way that what he saw was real, was it?
At that thought, his gaze shifts to the corner of the room where an imposing shadow lingers quietly.
Suddenly, his face lights up with an idea. "Let's see my friend! He's super smart and I'm sure he'll know what to do. He can help us." Without waiting for any sign of agreement, he's already reaching for his cell phone and scrolling through his contacts. He calls a number and waits. There's a click. "Hey! It's me, I have a favor -- hello?" Zach frowns and looks at his phone. It confirms that he's been hung up on. "Bastard." Without any shame, Zach calls again. From the tone of the conversation the friend on the other line eventually reluctantly agrees. Not without some shameless begging on Zach's end first.
By the time Timothy emerges from the shower, Zach is asleep. Lulled into sleep by the hand of exhaustion, he'd hardly lasted five minutes of wakefulness before he was gone to the world. Zach is still throughout the night. Nothing significant intercepts his dreams despite the disturbing events of the day. If anything, his sleep is peaceful.
Later joined by Timothy, Zach turns toward the other body. Sighing softly, both of his arms wrap around the other man and pull him close. He shuffles lower into the covers, seeking more warmth and a comfortable position. Zach stops only when his cheek presses to Timothy's shoulder.
---
Morning light filters through the open gap between black curtains. It casts a soft warmth upon Zach's arm that has moved out from the covers but remains draped over the man next to him. Half asleep, he sighs and squeezes Timothy's body tighter for a second or two. A moment passes. Then another. Zach's eyes open suddenly, full of alertness. His mind processes the events of the previous day. Realizing just who he has coiled up in his bed, Zach lifts his head slowly so as not to rouse the other man. He looks at Timothy and tries to untangle himself from the other without waking him.
A loud bang on his door startles Zach. He snaps his gaze to the bedroom door and hears his heart hammering loud in his chest for reasons unknown. "Wakey, wakey!" A voice calls mockingly, followed by another knock. The door never opens. Zach hears the sound of receding footsteps disappear down the hallway, then releases a breath he hadn't known he was holding.
It's disorientating once they reach the safety of Zach's dormitory room. What had occurred at the hospital has left an ugly wound somewhere inside Zach that he wishes to furiously wash from his skin. And yet, his room looks no different. He feels changed from the inside out, and it confuses him as to why the rest of his life hasn't also changed. Remaining somewhere near the door, he stares blankly at Timothy who sits at the edge of Zach's bed. Turns, and looks at the wall where a poster from a superhero movie sits. Looks at the calendar marked with assignments and reminders.
He feels numb. Leaning into that feeling is a pleasant experience given the alternative is recalling the way Timothy had ripped a man's jaw off his face.
"I need a shower," he says to the air, ignoring Timothy's rattled expression. Now in the safety of home, the adrenaline driving Zach forward has worn off. A heaviness drapes over his shoulders and the emotional whiplash he's gone through has him feeling exhausted. There's no time spent further comforting the other man. Zach walks across the room, picks up a towel, and wordlessly slips into the connecting bathroom.
---
It's only after ensuring his eyes aren't red and cheeks aren't puffy that he emerges from the shower. He still feels dirty, but the smell of the sewer has disappeared from his hair. Zach has opted for something more comfortable to wear; sweatpants and a plain shirt. Fresh towel in hand, he nudges Timothy. "You should shower too," he offers gently. "Then.." he pauses for a moment, clearly hesitant, "let's sleep. I don't want to think about today. We'll do something tomorrow, okay?"
Whatever Timothy's answer, Zach dips to the bed and slides under the covers. He's quiet and unmoving.
Oh. You're... a lizard.
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