Fantasy 𝑺𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑷𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝑷𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 (A Cyberpunk Urban Fantasy)

[SmallSailboat]

Lance appeared a bit disheartened by Jon's news, but resigned to it just the same with a nod and a small smile of sympathy. He quietly shook his head to deny any measure of being offended, weaving in a small note.

It's quite alright. I... got sick a lot, when I was younger, and even now I have to restrict my diet to balance out the all the sweets I eat with my workout regimen, so I understand. My offer still stands though, okay?

It made him a little sick just in that moment from feeling like he was being untruthful, but he was not about drop the truth on someone he had just met and had been kind to him. Any time someone found out what the real reason was, he hated the reactions he got: pity, righteous anger, disgust, grief over innocence lost. He wasn't going to encourage that in anyone else. Given Jon's training, he could likely tell that Lance had severe forms of PTSD and some heavy emotional baggage, just based off his odd behavioral ticks and the way he carried himself, but it was hard to tell what exactly caused it.

quinnissocool

Downstairs, he nodded to Allen as well, to answer affirmatively to their courtesy. Getting a longer, closer look at their face told him that Allen seemed rather out of it. She looked like she had wanted to go after her friends, but something kept them in place. He wondered whether to ask about them, but decided it wasn't his business. He made a habit of not sticking his nose where it didn't belong, at least to a degree. With cats in his arms, typing was possible but difficult, so instead he thought he might be of help by bringing them closer.

--Friendly--
--Pet - them?--

He gestured towards the two, allowing him to touch. If Allen agreed, the cats would indeed lean into his hand and become rather affectionate after a quick sniff to determine danger. Not detecting poison or forms of magical invisibility, they didn't deem Allen a threat and therefore ployed for attention and maybe treats, if he happened to have any. If not, Lance would accept that but either way he would gesture towards the stairs, asking if they would like to return with him. If so, he would insist that Allen eat a little at least, even offering to make something else if it had gotten cold or if they didn't like something about it, but he couldn't bring himself to ignore Allen's health when its deterioration was clearly staring him in the face, mocking him of a past where he would have begged for someone to care for him in a similar manner if he were equipped to.

toxification
Also regardless of Allen's decision, Lance did still have to bring the pets upstairs, releasing them up there and weaving to Jon again in his new room.

Thank you for your help, I really do appreciate it. I feel a little bad about not being able to return the favor, so if something comes up, please tell me. By the way, have you seen Perun? I need to ask him some questions about the cafes kitchen.

Megilagor

 

[quinnissocool]

"Alright, thanks for the offer," I said, smiling, feeling guilty about lying to the guy, who seems nice I had to shed that guilt away though. If he knew what I was, I'd like to think that he'd understand why I had to do it. I gave another look outside and thankfully neither Kyle nor Dylan stood nearby. Looking back to Lance, I recognised little hints that he had PTSD, as well as some other mental problems. He reminded me of a poor guy, who looked around his age, at the psychiatric hospital I volunteered at who had just returned from a battlefield someplace far away. From what I found out, he managed to recover thankfully. I took a look at my watch; there was a game I wanted to watch in a few minutes. I backed away towards the stairwell and saw Lance with cats. I returned his wave back and then read his note.

"Hey, don't sweat it, man. My apartment is at the very top if y'all need anything. You won't miss it, it's like the only apartment there. Ah, Perun's probably in the cafe." I started to walk up the stairs, feeling a little sick in my stomach. It was best to be close to a toilet for a while. I'd have to position the TV so I could watch the game from the bathroom. "But if you hear me yelling, then stay away. Me yelling during a game ain't pretty. You could be bleeding to death, I won't be opening that door." I added jokingly.

SmallSailboat

 

[Megilagor]

After leaving Jon’s room Perun ventured to the rooftop of the building for a quick smoke and to check who the hell keeps sending him messages on his phone. He lit the cigarette aflame, he reached into his pocket for his phone and unlocked it, before checking the messages on it.
“It’s Dante… What the hell does he want now. He’s probably once again in trouble, ok stop speculating and read those darn messages.”
A while passed since he began reading the messages, he even finished smoking by the time he read the last message.
‘No trouble it seems, he only got a job in a casino as both a dealer and a magician. I can say it fits him well, he always looked good and his powers fit even better there.’

Perun waited for a while up there so the smell of the smoke would wash away from him, then he returned downstairs the regular way to man the cafe.
Hearing Jon say something about him tickled his fancy, so he went towards the second set of stairs and spoke loudly.
“I'm down here if ya need me. Oh and I forgot, the most important rule, ‘Never enter my room unless I invite you inside’ It's an untimely amount of mess inside.”
Although the untimely amount of mess Perun spoke of was real it was for another reason he did not want others to enter his room without him.

Interactions: SmallSailboat , quinnissocool & anyone who hears it or is in the cafe.

 

[quinnissocool]

I heard Perun's voice and then looked to Lance.

"Here you go, Lance, follow the voice," I said. I continued up the stairwell to make it for the start of the game, feeling my stomach rumble and yearning for another piece of mea-

Vomit forced itself from my mouth and onto the steps. Oh shit, no...why couldn't this happen in the apartment? But another round propelled out of my mouth, bits of meat coming up with it. It was definitely not transformation day. That was tomorrow...but I only vomit this much on the day of a transformation. No, it was daytime...

oh shit, no...I haven't prepared anything yet.

I had hoped to use the whole day to prepare for it, plan routes, times when the full moon would officially trigger the start of the transformation. I couldn't just leave the vomit there. My mind rushed for excuses, hoping that each one of them wouldn't lead to Perun kicking me out. I hadn't eaten anything else other than raw meat either. No, the transformation wasn't today...please don't say I made a mistake. There was no point in scooping it up with my own hands and throwing it somewhere hidden. There was no trash can to store it in, no toilet to flush it down, and, if this wasn't a side effect of transformation, it wouldn't look good and that'd be disgusting. I just had to run with the 'I'm just sick' excuse and hopefully, that wouldn't arouse suspicion and they'd buy it. I mean, why else would someone randomly throw up like that? I wasn't sure whether these people were familiar with werewolves and I could only hope none of them was. I wiped droplets of saliva and small chunks of vomit from my beard with the back of my hand and looked about for something to clean this up. A sharp pain struck my stomach, making me retch. I felt something building up, moving to my neck, but nothing went any further. My hands were shaking, as if I was either about to be exposed or as if I had been.

Interactions:

Megilagor SmallSailboat and whoever else hears Jon throwing up

(and just to mention, Jon throwing up isn't a sign of the actual transformation beginning but just a side effect that eventually leads up to one that would occur later. It's like his body in a way preparing itself which gets worse as the transformation day approaches)