Kildeer Rest cigarette daydreams

"I'm tired, too," Zamael countered, turning to face his brother. "Exhausted. But somehow restless, at the same time. You know what, I wish I could just. . .fucking. . .run. Leave. Go away, leave you in peace." He let out a sobbing breath, head bowed. Piece of shit, you total piece of fucking shit. His psyche was, as always, no help, berating him at every turn. And the devil on his shoulder egged him on, urging him to spew words like a volcano does lava.

He shook his head, slowly, a silent metronome. "I don't care about you and Delight--god, I'm happy for you." The pair of them reminded him of his tryst with Carvel; a bolt of pain shot through his heart, squeezing, digging well and deep. For all that love was pure, it always ended in catastrophe. Fortune did not smile on the Keils. "I look at you two, and I just--god, I--"

Zamael broke off abruptly, turning his gaze onto Alarian again. Feeling his stomach sink down to his toes. "I'm not upset over your life here because I'm jealous," he murmured, voice hollow. "I'm upset because I have to take it away from you. The tribe sent me here to bring you home. To bring all of us home. Eris. Me. You."