Selena, Female (??), Adult??????? ??, Loves to shapeshift into Noibat disguise, Keeps blue-tint color no matter what small pokemon she shifts into, Can only shift into smaller sized pokemon like herself, Can’t hold transformation spell under extreme duress.
Personality: Very curious, kinda snarky, good natured but likes the upper hand (never gets it sexually) learns to enjoy that though, considered to be a little brash. Loves attention but not in mew shape. or because she’s a mew. Rather dislikes her mew heritage a little since people never shut up about it when they ogle her.
It wasn’t like him to miss an entire day of classes.
Lyra Soul rushed down a few hallways, eyes fixated on finding Silver Lupo’s dorm room. After hearing from a few credible sources that the redhead hadn’t bothered to show up that day, she took it upon herself to rush over and find the cause of this terrible occurrence. The instant she found his door, she angrily pulled out her key, shoved it in the lock and strode in his room. Curse him for making her worry like this. She had an essay to write by Thursday.
The young brunette found Silver quite easily after following the scent of vomit. Disgusted, she stumbled to the doorway of a small bathroom. There on the floor was her best friend, head in a toilet bowl and now groaning like his stomach had come up. She pinched her nose and turned her head. She could handle skunks. She could handle a giant pile left behind by a Great Dane. She could not stomach the smell of puke, even for Silver.
“I cannot believe this,” she growled. “You missed class because of a hangover? Of all the irresponsible, dimwitted things you have done, this one takes the cake. Sorry to burst your partying bubble,” she continued angrily, “But an education is more important than drinking yourself stupid!”
Silver came up for air. “S-Shut up,” he sputtered. Lyra had to hold her tongue just for a moment at how pale he looked. His eyes were greatly accented by puffy red bags. He looked like he had been there all day in that bathroom. Lyra felt her anger wane before trying to force it back. It was his fault he was in this condition.
“I-I didn’t drink,” he continued, narrowing his eyes at her. “I caught some sort of stomach flu while I was on break.” Lyra felt her heart stop. She had jumped to conclusions again, as usual. The young woman flushed and started repeatedly trying to tuck her hair behind her ear. Hotheadedness was not a flattering feature, but she certainly had it in spades.
“So,” she paused, staring at him. “You actually just had rotten luck with your family?” He was about to nod before he squeezed his eyes shut. Apparently he also had a headache. Lyra’s hazel eyes gleamed with relief. “Good. Turns out you’re not irresponsible. Unfortunately for you, if you had a diet beyond spaghetti, you might have a stronger immune system.”
Silver’s eyes flashed before he pushed his bangs up, which were wet with sweat. “Lyra,” he snarled through clenched teeth, “When I’m not keeping anything down for more than five minutes, I’d rather not listen to your terrible Italian jokes. Save it for when I can make gross stereotypes about your heritage.”
His friend frowned. “Is it really that bad,” she asked. From the steel glare she was getting, she’d have to take that as a yes. Lyra Soul shook her head sadly and shifted her weight onto her left leg. “Sorry Silv,” she sighed. “I…” She stopped, shook her head and walked away, leaving Silver in a state of panic.
The redhead flushed his toilet, sloppily cleaned his face for the moment and stumbled after her, tilting his head upwards to prevent another trip to the bathroom. He found her standing in his tiny kitchen space, rummaging around in his fridge. “Go home,” he told her, though he certainly had not an ounce of his body that wanted her to follow such a demand. “You’re gonna get sick and then what? You’re going to miss deadline for your paper.”
“Nah,” she chuckled weakly. “I’m going to stay here and make you something to eat.” She pulled out some leftover chicken, some cheap broth and a package of bowtie pasta. “Maybe I can make enough to last you a while. Quick and easy leftovers, you know? Those are always helpful.”
“You don’t need to do this.” He sat down in a chair and watched Lyra Soul try to find a suitable pot for his stove. “You really should leave.” He made no effort to make her, though.
“Go lay down or something,” she told him, though not without a gentle tone. “My mother taught me how to make quick and easy chicken noodle for a reason. Bless her heart, she knew darn well that one day I would have to serve a sick, complaining and bitter college student.”
“I’m not bitter.”
Lyra waved him off. “Go take a nap, Silv. You need to rest.” She turned away from her project to fill a glass of ginger ale and practically shove it in his hands. “This will soothe your stomach. Go on now, take a nap like that fat cat you sent me pictures of all break."
Silver grumbled but he rose to his feet anyway. He took a cautious sip of his drink and blinked weary in Lyra’s direction. "Madame Boss is fluffy, not fat.”
“Go,” she pressed, giving him a stubborn stare. “We can argue about your cat after I give you a bowl of soup. You know, after you relax.” The young man sighed and retreated to his small bed. He didn’t have any energy left in his entire body to argue about this. Besides, it felt oddly nice to have someone checking up on him like this.
Once Lyra saw that Silver had left, she smiled and got back to work in making something to eat, taking a moment to scan his fridge for any vegetables she could use.
If she couldn’t hand him the work he needed, at least she could help him get better faster.