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

Somehow, Zamael's words registered; he moved numbly to collapse where his brother had gestured, not really seeing anything as he moved. He shifted automatically to make room for him, glancing to him with a dimly hopeful gaze. A sigh escaped him when his unspoken request was obliged. For several long moments he was quiet, collecting himself, pressing close to his brother. Slowly, he calmed; perhaps the juniper berries were beginning to work.
I'm sorry, Alarian managed softly; it seemed he said that a lot lately. He pushed his face into the fur between Zamael's neck and shoulder, voice muffled slightly as he continued. I'm sorry I'm a mess. A pause followed, then he lifted his head to meet his brother's gaze, his own hollow but more focused now.
Thank you, The words were whispered. He only held the eye contact for a few beats, soon tucking himself back into the familiar warmth of his brother's fur. It had been a long time since he had slept like this— too long, and perhaps he was too grown now for it to be quite the same, but he didn't mind if Zamael didn't. He had missed this, perhaps more than anything else.