The Bracken Woods don't look at me

his heart is beating too loud and it isn't just the carnage causing it. a breathy laugh tears from his throat, a humorless, dying sound, as alarian keeps talking. somewhere in his own hysteria delight thinks he's going to die, and oh, i really am cursed. out loud he says, "shut up," his voice flayed to raw emotion, desperate and affectionate and doomed. stuck to his teeth the things he should say make a sudden leap for freedom. "alarian --"

whatever he should or shouldn't say is cut off by lily's arrival. she's got words, he realises dumbly, distracted by the way alarian is settling on top of him. "hey now," he murmurs, nipping at his nose just a touch frantic as the advocate lays her head across him. to her he says dully, "what it looks like. runion." he cannot construct a real explanation, not right now, and where is zamael with his magic cure or -- he's bleeding so much, surely he can't bleed that much, do we really contain this much blood?

"i," delight stammers, unclear if he's talking to lily or alarian or both, "he's, just, stay awake, help me keep him awake, stay awake, alarian," accompanied by tiny nips, sure it hurts, hating that it hurts, but he can't die, lily knows delight's cursed, he can't die, not now! not when --