Broken Boulder this is gospel for the fallen ones

Zamael's voice barely registered over the constant ringing through his skull. Immediately his lips peeled back to reveal teeth bloodied from subconsciously worrying at the inside of his mouth during the agony of his first waking moments. He was silent, unable to look at him for several beats. The touch brought a low growl from him, but finally the snarl faded and he turned.
He saw blood and fire. Alarian flinched from his brother's stare, crumbling under the intensity of it. He wished he would leave; not truly, not fully, but in that moment he believed it. This was a process best suffered alone, a burden he should bear himself, and truth be told Zamael was making it worse. But it wasn't his fault. It was just—
A voice cut through the ringing, through his thoughts; something familiar. Delight. There was something so very urgent about his friend's presence. Quite suddenly, he found himself standing, taking one shaking step forward— two— his vision went black. His head spun like a hyper kid in an office chair, sending him careening to the left. Ouch.
Fuck, He choked out as he hit the ground, unable to hold back a snort. So he couldn't even walk. Great. And Delight would see him this way— and he couldn't even remember what was so important. It still nagged at him, the same way his ears were still full of that persistent ringing. He was certain, then, that this was it— he'd finally lose his mind now, and he'd go be a forest hermit somewhere, and maybe he'd be fucking happier.