[html]
The approach of another barely went noticed at first; Trent was so absorbed into his own pain and his own mind, his sense of scent consumed and clouded by the heavy smell of his own vomit, that he didn't even register at first. When he did notice the other, it was because he opened his eyes and saw someone stare at him. Trent didn't register the emptiness in the others' expression, didn't register a lot more than the fact that there was someone staring at him to begin with. He had to have been there for minutes, but it might as well have been seconds — or hours, for that matter.
With pleading, helpless eyes the shifting luperci glanced up at the other, vaguely aware of the pathetic impression he had to make, vaguely aware of the handsome features the observer held. R-run!
Trent squeaked with a high-pitched voice, completely unaware that there wouldn't be a crazy full-moon soul-take-over involved with his shift. He was afraid and convinced that he would lose control of his mind and soul and that he'd stand up to try and rip the next best passer-by to pieces. Probably should've asked Sebastian for a bit more information when he'd had the chance, had he not been in such thick denial at the time. I — I'm g-gonna change, and I don't want to hurt you...
In hindsight, when he found out he wouldn't change into a slobbering crazy soul-eating werewolf, Trent would probably feel like an idiot, but for now this belief only fueled his fear of changing and his belief that he was being punished for what he was.
Gathering his strength, Trent managed to pull the front of his body off the ground. He cried in a pain that was mostly in his mind rather than a reality as his body changed further, long cinnamon-dusted mane falling down his back and his arms and paws slowly extending. It was a slow and painful process for Trent, and as the pain and fear gripped his mind the stranger was momentarily forgotten.