Zamael couldn't think of a wolf with worse luck lately than Alarian. Physical damage notwithstanding, there was some drama with the Morningside wolves that he didn't quite understand, and his brother was at odds with Queenie, as well (who'd have thought it, with her sunny personality!). He did his best to keep Alarian afloat, to not let him fall into the abyss like he'd done so many times before; it wasn't possible for him, now. He was leader, here--he could rest and recover, but he couldn't abandon these wolves to wallow in the darkness of depression. No matter how enticing it seemed.

When he wasn't with his brother, Zamael paced the borders, avoiding the den mother when possible--turns out two assholes did not a friendship make--and taking stock of the natural wonders of Broken Boulder. Flowers, plants, trees, whatever. Looking at pretty things was better than dealing with all the shit that had gone down, and besides, he wasn't leader here. Just like Hotel California, he could check out whenever the fuck he wanted.

His fiery eyes scanned the horizon to the south, feeling the urge to cut and run. He hadn't yet told Alarian of his plan to bring him and Eris back to their ancestral grounds. He had a sinking feeling that they wouldn't take it well at all. Well, no shit. Even with both Arnlith and Runion dead, the pair of them had made a new life for themselves here; no matter how shitty it was, Zamael couldn't see them jumping up and down at the chance to go home.

But if he didn't bring them back within the next couple of seasons, the tribes would start to ask questions. They'd send sentries, looking for him. And should they find the trio at Broken Boulder, returning would be even less of a question--and there would be a massive fight on their hands if--when?--that time came.

The trim dark figure of Delight walked on by, and, much to Zamael's displeasure, offered no greeting to his paramour's big brother. He--Zamael, that is--was one of those hypocritical folks that went through life with their head down, looking dour, but god forbid someone else ignore them. Heavens. There would be hell to pay, for not acknowledging their presence.

He cleared his throat in an ostentatious manner, leveling his gaze upon Delight's retreating form. "Good morning, sunshine," he said sarcastically, tail waving slightly back and forth. "Penny for your thoughts?"

Zamael couldn't explain it, but something about the relationship between the Governor and the Chancellor rubbed him the wrong way. It couldn't be jealousy, right? And if that was ruled out, he supposed it must be his overprotective nature rearing its ugly head again. Before Carvel, he'd poured his heart and soul into raising Alarian, and to see someone else step into the place by his side--

Well, shit. Maybe it was jealousy, after all.

He smirked as Delight had to backtrack, (not-so) secretly enjoying his awkwardness. Still, Zamael padded closer, closing the distance between them. He gave the expression of gratitude a brief nod, eyes glittering with amusement.

"Didn't have much of a choice in the matter," he said wryly. "But thanks. It was good, having you there. Kept me grounded. I've always tended to err on the side of 'freak the fuck out,' when it comes to Alarian getting beat up. 'Specially by fucking Runion." Rest in pieces, literally, you shitbag.

He canted his head to the side in apparent inquiry, staring down Delight. "You two seem close," he said in the most casual tone he could muster, as if they were discussing something incredibly mundane. "Closer even than I'd expect leaders to be. What's the scoop on that?" Delight didn't seem the type to lead someone on, but God help him if he employed that tactic now.

Not even God, really. Satan, with his hellfire, was more equipped to handle Zamael's volcanic wrath. Birds of a feather. . .

Oh, for fuck's sake. Delight puttered around the inquiry, throwing out several half-hearted sentiments before pausing. The whisper brought a smile to his face, and he gave the Chancellor an Are you shitting me? look before speaking, his voice low.

"Uh, yeah?" Zamael countered, breaking into a chuckle. "The wolves on the moon told me earlier that you can see it from space. Seriously, Delight. . .be real with me. I'm not gonna judge you." Okay, perhaps he'd judge just a little bit. But that was only natural. Judgment was a fountain he couldn't exactly turn on and off when it came to Alarian's life and choices--it was just going to happen.

He sighed, thinking of how badly this could end for both of them. "Look, I'm pretty sure he likes you, too," he continued. He fixed his stare on Delight, then, eyes boring into the other man's skull. Suddenly intense. "Don't fuck with him, dude. He deserves a lot more than he's gotten from life."

So did they all, really, so did Zamael--but for now, he was going to focus on Alarian's happiness. He had learned that his own joy was just as fleeting, and somehow seemingly more uncontrollable.

"And?" Zamael retorted, feeling his patience grow thin. "Where were those guys when Runion fucked him up? Where are those guys now?" He shrugged, his slim shoulders shaking in a laugh of dry amusement. "Sex is fun, Delight, but he doesn't look at you like you're just a fun thing to do on a slow day. Nor you at him."

Despite the acid in his tone, his smile upon looking at Delight was entirely genuine. He was an asshole, a sarcastic one at that, but he needed the Chancellor to know that this was serious. Zamael didn't give a shit about anything but Alarian's happiness; there had been few periods of his life where that was the case. Even when they had been separated, he'd prayed fervently day after day that his brother had found peace.

"I trust you, I think," he murmured, his grin growing a bit lopsided. "Just. . .yeah. I know he can be a pain in the ass sometimes, but he's my pain in the ass. And if he becomes your pain in the ass, too--just cherish that pain in the ass, even at his most. . .painful. Y'know?" His eyes narrowed in a half-squint, as if sizing up Delight. "You two are cute together, too," he added, smirking.

Oof. That was a question and a half. He gave a nervous chuckle, shaking his head. "I'll, uh, leave it up to him, as far as what he wants to tell you," Zamael responded, his face apologetic. "I know he's very guarded. We had a really fucked up childhood, to put it simply. I have trust issues because of it; it wouldn't be a stretch to say that he does, too.

"But it's not my place, to speak for him," he concluded. "He'll tell you about it, with time. Just give it some time." He was confident that Alarian would eventually let Delight into the deepest chambers of his heart. He wasn't about to do the bloody, messy work himself. Beyond looking after Alarian's welfare, he wanted to stay as detached from this relationship as he possibly could.

If it ended in flames, his brother could always come running back to him. Zamael hoped fervently--for all of their sakes--that this tale had a better denouement than had all the others.