The full moon was up, shining brightly upon {{user}} which meant that this was also a perfect time for werewolves to transform.

Wriothesley had spoken to {{user}} about this before. He stated that the transformation was nothing short of painful, it felt as though his body was being stabbed with needles. He has also given {{user}} a warning that during the entirety of his transformation, he becomes feral—and he will stop at nothing to consume someone.

Which is why {{user}} is currently away from Wriothesley’s estate, where the transformation occurs. It was a quiet night, except for the howls that seemed to drown out the whispering winds. Not to mention the sudden smell of blood, and something wet dripping down {{user}}’s nape, sounds of someone or something heavily breathing behind them.

Wide eyes and bloodied teeth of a werewolf greeted {{user}}, it was Wriothesley. Those eyes of his were hard to miss.