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Grown to Hate, Not to Cope; *closed* Claire
Topic Started: Dec 4 2016, 10:57 PM (273 Views)
Hezekiah Mowry
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werewolf father entrepreneur like father like daughter

Hezekiah Mowry had grown to hate a lot of things after becoming a werewolf. Despite finding so many other people and traits to despise, the man hated coming out of a phase the most. He hated seeing the moon rising and having to live with the memories of him being a monster. Hez had gotten rid of his anger about being a werewolf a long time ago because if he would've held on to it, Rama would not be in his care, and the last thing the man wanted was to have his life taken away from him. Although Rama did not think that Hezekiah treasured her so much, he did and would not be so strict with her now if he didn't love the young girl.

Hezekiah had a severe wound on his leg from being careless while running. He had learned how to avoid packs and other werewolves who refused to take wolfsbane some time ago, so he no longer got injuries from such things. Every time he got hurt now was because he was clumsy and inattentive in certain situations. The shirtless man was close to being home and continued to limp his way out of Obsidian Harbour. The wound on his right leg had substantially slowed down his trek towards his home. It was times like this that Hezekiah was glad he did not live isolated like most witches and wizards.
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Professor Monty Pendleton
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Monty knew better than to walk alone at night during a full moon. He knew better, but in his state of emotional disquiet he could not muster the strength to be afraid. He thought of Marisol, arrested in a body she could not control, in a cavern lit solely by the very satellite that imprisoned her there. He thought of Ava, who had just been informed of Zannon's arrest, and who might never forgive herself for a mistake she had been blameless to make. And he thought about the way his heart was too weak to love, too hurt to trust. Somehow he had been numbed, as if his soul were protecting him from any more external stress by refusing to acknowledge the internal. So he walked carelessly through the night, watching as the sun reared over the horizon and dragged him into a new day.

The breaking of dawn being insufficient to send Monty back to the castle, he took a left turn out of the harbour and down a quiet road that was scarcely taken by day, much less before the birds had begun to sing. For this reason he was startled to see the back of a figure limping away in the distance. The inventor did not quicken his step, yet caught him up swiftly anyway. Up close it became evident that he was badly injured, this combined with the absence of his shirt leading Monty to conclude that this man, like Marisol, had just spent the night in the form of a werewolf. He didn't know whether to offer assistance, until he glanced up the road ahead and could see no house or dwelling. The man could have been miles from home, for all he knew, and with a wound like that on his leg, he might not make it. Monty hastened to his side. "Excuse me - are you all right? Do you need help?"
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Hezekiah Mowry
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werewolf father entrepreneur like father like daughter

All Hezekiah felt at the moment was pain, and he was starting to feel faint. Time seemed to go by so differently when he was a werewolf, and it had been years since he had gotten into a situation like this. He was getting clumsy and arrogant, which was not good. Hez stopped when he hears a voice. He mumbled a curse under his breath. This was just wonderful. He hoped it wasn't and Hit Wizard of Auror. He had every right to be cautious of authority because he still seen as a malady within society. The wolf was not able to clearly see the man because of his injury, so he did not have enough time to complain or come up with a snarky remark. "I think I made a wrong turn somewhere. It's really...empty... here." he breathed.
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Professor Monty Pendleton
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Monty looked around again, in case the first time he'd missed the shape of a door or chimney through the trees, but saw nothing but woodland and the long, forked path down which he'd come. There weren't a huge number of deviations the man could have taken, and after mentally retracing his steps, Monty decided that the easiest turning to have missed would have been the last. The injured stranger was pale, and almost seemed to sway slightly with the limbs of the trees. If they turned around now, and his house wasn't down the path Monty suspected it to be, would he make it back without collapsing? The professor could only try; without his assistance, it didn't look like the man was going anywhere at all. "The path forked behind us - do you think you ought to have taken the left?" he asked, eyeing the stranger nervously.

GM approved!
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Hezekiah Mowry
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Hezekiah collapsed on the ground while gripping his injured leg. The man did not have enough energy to verbally respond to the man, so he simply nodded his head. Hez was going to get nowhere on his own, so this stranger needed to take initiative before the wolf's cranky and inconsiderate side came out. Rama had clearly inherited it, which must be why she was always causing so much trouble in school. Hezekiah looked up to the stranger and held out a hand to the man. "Are you going to help me? Or do I have to die here?" he asked. The wolf's vision was getting blurrier as each moment of this man's indecisiveness passed.
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Professor Monty Pendleton
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Monty's question had barely left his mouth before the stranger suddenly collapsed beside him. The professor moved, but not quickly enough, his hesitance to touch somebody he didn't know delaying his natural instincts. He gritted his teeth. For goodness' sake, this was no time to care for his own discomfort. The man prompted him, and Monty finally crouched. "Sorry," he said. "Can you hold on?" He would carry him, if it came to it, but for now he encouraged the man's arm around his shoulder, giving him something solid on which to lean as he walked. Slowly Monty rose to full height, minus the inch or two he lost for bowing under the man's weight. There didn't seem to be any point wasting energy talking, so Monty shuffled along in relative silence, mentally naming each sound he could hear to distract himself from the feeling of the body against him.
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Hezekiah Mowry
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Hezekiah was pleased at the man's prompt reaction to his request. This man clearly had to be prompted in order to take actions that were automatic to regular people. Although he was not going to be fond of this trait, he could deal with it. Rama still had work to do. Hez gladly shifted some of his weight onto the stranger. He did not make any conversation with the man as he was doing his best to keep his consciousness and see his daughter once school let out for the break. Hezekiah let himself be lead down the other path, which began to look familiar as time went by. The man's concept of time was askew because of the severity of his injury, but once he was home, he was going to be able to dope himself up on potions that would speed up his healing process.

It was as if time had sped itself up for the wolf because once Hezekiah saw his apartment door, he pushed the door open. He never locked to door when Rama was at school. He actively wished a stranger would try and steal from him. He made his way to the sofa with the help of the stranger. "Everything you need is in the kitchen." he told the man. Now that he was home, Hezekiah felt comfort because this was where he could be himself with no judgement.
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Professor Monty Pendleton
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After what felt like an eternity the stranger finally located his house and let himself inside, still aided by Monty's shoulder. The Potions Professor set him on the sofa as gently as he could before giving a single nod and hastening to the kitchen. By the looks of the vials, potions and remedies strewn about the counters and stocked in the cabinet, this occurrence was neither uncommon nor ill prepared for. Indeed, as Monty reached for a deep red vial he caught sight to its left a sickeningly familiar potion. If its appearance left any room for uncertainty, its pungent smell certainly did not. Monty brewed this potion for several different students every single month. There was no doubting it was Wolfsbane.

So the man was definitely a werewolf. Was that why he lived such a walk away from the harbour? Monty considered this only for a matter of seconds before returning to the living room, where Hezekiah lay quietly on the sofa. The wound on his leg was deep and vicious, and the professor took several slow breaths through his mouth as he crouched at his side. "Here," he said, surmising he wouldn't need to name the potions he was administering when they belonged to the recipient anyway. "Drink these." Then he turned his attention to the man's leg, applying dittany to the gashes and using a quiet spell to clean away the blood. With nothing left to do but wait for the potions to restore the man back to full consciousness, Monty sat down in an armchair, his eyes drifting curiously over the photographs that ornamented the room. He knew he was outstaying his welcome, but he could not leave without assurance the stranger would be OK when he did.
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Hezekiah Mowry
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Within a minute of Hezekiah sitting down, the stranger was shoving vials in his face for him to drink. The man lazily took the vials and swallowed all their contents. He winced slightly at the application of the dittany, but the man had been through worse situations than this. Hezekiah lifted his lower body on to the sofa and got more relaxed. His head was clearing up, and he was able to think a little clearer. Hez looked over to the man awkwardly sitting in the armchair and chuckled. "I'm Hezekiah Mowry, and it may seem obvious by now, but I am a werewolf." he introduced himself calmly. His voice was softer than usual, which was to be expected since he almost died out on the street tonight.
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