Send me “bruises?” for my muse’s reaction to yours catching them secretly tending to their wounds.
After a particularly nasty run in with a group of Spathi, Nekoda had settled down for a moment to try and tend to her wounds. A catalog of bruises and what possibly could be a broken rib or three. She sighed and went about patching herself up before freezing, her senses alerting her to another presence. Without turning around, she continued to patch herself up. “I’ve had worse.” She said finally, which was true. She’d take this over dying again anyday.