The Bracken Woods don't look at me

thankfully lily catches on quickly. alarian's protests are met with more gentle nips, delight's voice strained as he says "making sure there'll be a next time, okay?" he has no idea what the semi-conscious governor means by 'tell me later' -- does he mean, has he figured out? dramatic death bed confessions arent' really his style, but if it'll keep him awake, "alarian, you should know i--"

zamael shows up blessed moss in hand. 

he obliges the orders easily, scrambling out of the way in spite of the fuss his half-dead friend kicks up and pressing moss as carefully as he can into the wound in his neck. he keeps as close as he can, still touching, always touching, ignoring the sticky-smell of blood and its weight on him. "do -- how do we move him?" the question comes out hoarse, still riding the adrenaline spike from his initial encounter with the scene -- he trembles with nervous energy, waiting to be given orders to get alarian to safety.