Broken Boulder i'll pay my weight in blood to feel my nerves wake up

I'm fine. Zamael's lips firmed tight, and then parted in retort, but his words were cut off by further explanation. His features softened, then, and he was about to inquire into the nature of this sickness when Alarian stumbled into him, nearly knocking him over. Only by the grace of some god did Zamael not fall, but he kept his weight braced against his brother, looking over at him with a baffled expression.

"Fucking hell, Alarian," he said, a little impatiently. He sighed, glancing at the barely-eaten bit of prey. Once Alarian had regained his footing, he padded over to it and sniffed it, trying to find any signs of rot or decay. He didn't detect anything of that nature, and looked up again, mouth watering slightly.

"Are you nauseous, or just not hungry? Do you have a stomachache?" There were several herbs that could treat these symptoms, but he wanted to be sure before dashing off to the nearest cache of supplies. Alarian needed to eat, and soon. He was a walking skeleton, to Zamael; much skinnier than he'd seen him before.