The Bracken Woods don't look at me

skipping zamael w permission!

Delight's quiet reassurance fell on him softly, soothing like gentle spring rain, and slowly the tears abated. He could feel the shock and adrenaline fading, too, replaced by a rapidly-thickening fog. It occurred to him that they'd never been this close before, so close he swore they could melt into each other, and he'd have been okay with that. He pressed his face into Delight's fur, realizing then how much it actually hurt to be pressed so tightly against him. He didn't care.
But he was so tired, his thoughts jumbled and heavy. This would be— He yawned, tone distant and overly lethargic and muffled by fur. Nicer if I wasn't bleeding all over you... sorry. A couple beats passed and he added, mumbling, Still nice, though. He shifted slightly to lay his head on Delight, not really minding if it took some awkward twisting. This was a nice place to nap, he'd decided— or die, if that was what he was doing now.
Was he going to die? No— no, he couldn't, not now goddamnit. He wanted at least another five minutes here, just a bit longer to pretend this meant something— to pretend Delight could maybe—
Before he could die or extract more gay shit from Delight or start crying again or whatever he'd planned to do next, Lily showed up and ruined it all. Everything. Fuckin' Lily. He was glad to see her, of course; he opened his mouth to say something, to reassure her.
Then she spoke. Actual words— woah. Alarian blinked and lifted his head to glance at Delight, to see if he caught the significance, but promptly lowered it again when he realized wow, that was a lot of effort. He didn't move when Lily approached, but he tensed slightly against Delight, half-expecting her muzzle to fall on the hurt section of his head. There was no energy left in him anyway; he was fading slowly from consciousness, breathing slower now. He was just so tired.