Broken Boulder i just want to be better than your head's only medicine

He wasn't surprised when Alarian fought against the yarrow--he had expected it, really. His brother had done this to himself, he didn't want Zamael's interference. But then, with a struggle, he took it again. . .and swallowed. Zamael let out a shuddering sigh of relief, bowing his head, only to hear Alarian speak again.

"I love you, too," he responded, beginning to break down. He pressed his muzzle against the crown of the other's head in a kiss, holding it there until the inevitable happened. "I love you so much. I'm so sorry."

Vomit spattered the floor--little more than bile and poppies--and he knew he'd have to clean it up eventually, but getting Alarian some rest was more important. He cast a critical eye at the mess, wondering if he had gotten all the seeds up. Not likely; there were only a few--his body must have absorbed the rest. He was still very much in danger. If he let him slip away now. . .

"Stay with me, kid," he begged, nudging Alarian against his bony shoulder in an effort to keep him conscious. Ought he to summon Delight? "Don't fall asleep. Not yet."