Broken Boulder this is gospel for the fallen ones

He had sat vigil for Alarian, scarcely leaving his brother's side since he'd brought him back, save to eat or piss. Hell, even the former, he'd brought food back to the den to eat it there--but he wasn't going to subject his brother to the latter activity, even if he was out cold. It was a boring yet anxious few days, waiting for Alarian to rouse. . .and desperately hoping that he would, indeed, wake up. There was always the possibility that he wouldn't.

Zamael was just outside the den, in the tunnels, when he heard movement from inside. His ears swiveled, then pushed forward with alarm; something had happened, whether for good or bad. He rose swiftly to his feet and popped his head inside, eyes widening, tears gathering at their corners, as he saw that Alarian was awake at last.

"Hey," he whispered gently, knowing that head wounds did particularly nasty things to the senses--sight, hearing, and all that. He moved forward to nose ever-so-slightly at Alarian's shoulder, licking a bit of disheveled pelt there. "You're awake. I'm so glad."

He would have to go find Eris, to summon her to the den. It had been a nerve-wracking several days for them both, but now the waiting game was finally at an end. Didn't necessarily mean the recovery would be smooth sailing--quite the opposite, from the looks of it--but at least he was alive and alert. He could work with whatever came next.