you're the satellite

If there was one thing his family had drilled home into his head, it was the importance of manners and proper decorum when speaking to a pack's leader. On his own, Romulus was ordinarily very headstrong and proud—and perhaps some of that did show in the way he spoke or carried himself—but he was also in the hospitality of another. Now was where he would really get to show off the prestige of the Armada family. Ulric seemed to soften the more he spoke, but the defensive edge never left the wolf's posture. He was wary of the stranger in his home. Roman couldn't fault him for being cautious. He looked over to Lillith with an appreciative smirk when she came to his side, stating how he was a skilled fighter and had a working knowledge of herbs. While he didn't necessarily feel the need for the sales pitch, he appreciated her going to bat for him.

Ulric didn't say anything straight away. Instead, the dire brute began to pull away one of the dividers to create a larger space with two cots for the two young wolves to share. He brought out a few pelts for them, then gave Lillith a goodnight kiss and informed Romulus to check with Gwynevere in the morning about helping her replenish the pharmacy. The boy visibly perked up, suddenly having a task and objective to complete come the morning. "I'm happy to help any way I can," he reaffirmed with a resolute nod of his head. He didn't know how long he would stay with the pack, but at least this felt like a stable start to building the rest of his life. And now he wouldn't have to do it alone either. He glanced to Lillith with a small smile.

"Romulus Armada"