[ the quick golden fox jumps over the lazy silver wolf. it's a funny image, the two of them pulling on both ends of the chain of their bond, trying to be the one to control it best
but for all of Gilgamesh's charisma, he has no idea what to do in the wake of raw honesty. all he can think to do is meet it in kind, and that's terrifying to someone who's always been obnoxiously clever with his tongue.
the farmer's honest toil will always bring fruit, even from the bitterest of soil; blood, sweat, and tears the sweetest nectar to Gaia's own tongue. the words call out to him and Gilgamesh can feel himself thrum in response. the magic that makes up his self glows bright, trying to coalesce, sensing an anchor to this world.
he speaks without thinking. ]
Answer me. Are you the insolent mage who seeks to latch on to the brilliance of a King? Are you the one who thinks himself worthy to be my Master?
[ he reaches out in turn, a golden, glittering hand thrumming bright as it reaches out to Vergil's, palm to palm. ]
no subject
but for all of Gilgamesh's charisma, he has no idea what to do in the wake of raw honesty. all he can think to do is meet it in kind, and that's terrifying to someone who's always been obnoxiously clever with his tongue.
the farmer's honest toil will always bring fruit, even from the bitterest of soil; blood, sweat, and tears the sweetest nectar to Gaia's own tongue. the words call out to him and Gilgamesh can feel himself thrum in response. the magic that makes up his self glows bright, trying to coalesce, sensing an anchor to this world.
he speaks without thinking. ]
Answer me. Are you the insolent mage who seeks to latch on to the brilliance of a King? Are you the one who thinks himself worthy to be my Master?
[ he reaches out in turn, a golden, glittering hand thrumming bright as it reaches out to Vergil's, palm to palm. ]