As the adrenaline fades, Boromir begins to feel the pain in his shoulder, and the first wash of dizziness. It's not a deadly amount of blood, but it's not insignificant, either. He lets himself lean on the other man's arm, and notes how it trembles-- the man struck a great blow, but it was all courage that drove him, not experience.
"At the Rose & Thorn," he says. He'd been on his way there, taking a quicker, less well-lit path. "I have rooms there."
But he's doing what he's accustomed to do: Already thinking the next steps ahead, imagining from where the next threat might come. "But there must be an alarm." He takes an unsteady step and then another, less unsteady. "We must set a patrol. What if another comes? This one did not fear to enter the town. It did not fear me. The next victim might be unarmed. Can we be sure it was the only one of its kind?"
The thought that someone else should run afoul of a beast like this while he recovers in safety is one he can't bear. And, so long as they're both out in the street together, this man is under his direct protection.
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"At the Rose & Thorn," he says. He'd been on his way there, taking a quicker, less well-lit path. "I have rooms there."
But he's doing what he's accustomed to do: Already thinking the next steps ahead, imagining from where the next threat might come. "But there must be an alarm." He takes an unsteady step and then another, less unsteady. "We must set a patrol. What if another comes? This one did not fear to enter the town. It did not fear me. The next victim might be unarmed. Can we be sure it was the only one of its kind?"
The thought that someone else should run afoul of a beast like this while he recovers in safety is one he can't bear. And, so long as they're both out in the street together, this man is under his direct protection.