backdated to before head cronch
Truth be told, he had scarcely left @Zamael alone since he had followed him to Broken Boulder. It was likely rather suffocating. At that moment he actually wasn't with him; he had slipped off to eat, and in a fit of self-doubt had decided yes, they actually did need some time apart, or he'd drive Zamael away again.
Now he was curled up among the wildflowers in Paradise Garden, grooming himself and trying not to think about his brother. It would get easier to leave him alone if he just didn't think about him, right?
Alarian tried to focus on the butterflies flitting around him, the scents of the various flowers. All he could think about was home; Sunfil Grove. Not all of it had been like this— just one of his favorite parts. He hadn't yet brought Zamael here, though he had been meaning to; he wondered if he would see what he and Eris saw in the place. If he would remember things as Alarian did when he came here.
Alarian's self-esteem was ever-fluctuating; often he made reasons within his own mind for it to plummet again, but the smallest things soothed these self-inflicted hurts. His brother's arrival was one such thing. At once his imagined feelings of being unwanted dissipated, and he couldn't resist touching his nose briefly to Zamael's leg. Sometimes it still didn't really feel real, honestly.
He considered the question for a moment, briefly pleased with his brother's comments on Paradise Garden. Dead,
He decided, tone slightly wry; he meant it, though. Lately he felt like a walking corpse, and it was entirely his own fault. I ate something though, so... less dead than usual. How are you?
His eyes lit slightly with curiosity, obviously expecting a better answer than the one he had given.
Sounds fun,
He offered with a slightly wry grin, tail swishing absently. He was glad to hear Zamael was making an effort, though; he knew better than anyone that his brother wasn't very social, at least not by nature, and he'd admittedly been a little worried. He wanted to say more, but then Zamael was speaking again, so he listened instead.
He nodded affirmation to the question, and only moments later his expression fell slightly. Honestly, he'd had a long time to build up resentment toward the long-dead male; he'd taken his brother from him first with love, then with grief, in such a short period of time. He never wanted to hear the name again, but he couldn't bear the hurt in Zamael's expression.
He leaned his head gently against the other's shoulder. I'm sorry,
He murmured, voice soft. There was little else he could offer. He couldn't bring Carvel back, nor could he take away the pain— but he could be here, now, and maybe in time it would hurt a little less.
Hearing their father's name, he couldn't help but wince, though he tried to hide it. He swore he could still taste blood coating his tongue and throat for a moment — could still hear Arnlith's gurgling death throes. But he was dead, and it was in the past; Zamael had said it already. He pressed closer to his brother, trying to pull his thoughts back to the other's lost love.
There's nothing wrong with thinking about the past,
He said after a couple beats. I do — a lot.
He paused, taking a moment to think about all that had happened since he and Zamael last saw each other — and all that had happened prior. It's... normal, I think, to dwell on some things. It was all pretty fucked up, wasn't it? Not that easy to just... forget and move on.
But somehow, he'd managed to forget so much. It occurred to him then that maybe he treasured reminiscing so very much because of the myriad of blank spots in his own memory — the empty spaces he was so torn between appreciating and hating, knowing the memories would only be bittersweet at best but wanting them so badly nonetheless.