crafting supplies

Romulus put up no fight when Lillith produced a clean cloth from her first aid kit and began to clean away some of the blood that was dripping down his face. He winced as the wounds stung from the pressure, but he didn't pull back, resisting to allow Lil to do her work on his injuries. He was trying to be tough and manly in front of the girl he had fallen for, not wanting her to see him as weak or unable to fend for himself. The Armada wolves were a very proud bunch if nothing else. Wounding their pride was almost as painful as wounding their bodies. His ears remained folded to his head, giving her a small smirk when she smiled and told him that he had nothing to be sorry for because he saved her. He had certainly tried his best, even if she hadn't gotten away from it unscathed.

When Lillith confirmed that they should take the jaguar with them, Roman nodded and immediately when to go gather up the corpse. He hoisted the dead cat up over his back, hefting its weight across his body to carry back to the castle. Turning back to her, Lillith stopped him and asked if he was sure he was fine. The slashes and cuts stung something fierce, and he couldn't tell how deep they were without a mirror or something to see his reflection in. Romulus didn't say anything right away, caught between wanting to keep up that indestructible appearance that she had fallen in love with and not wanting to lie to her. He glanced down at Lillith with steel eyes strained from how much he was trying to hide the pain.

"Maybe it would be a good idea to let Gwynevere have a look," he conceded, motioning with his head back up the ridge. "C'mon, let's get back home." The last thing he wanted now was to hang around this boneyard and see if the jaguar had any friends lurking nearby.

"Speech"