[I don't want to face it, he'd tell Setsuna; I don't want it to hurt, he'd tell Vietnam. But he's a King defined by an endless well of pride. He can't voice his weakness any more than he'd shown it. Bitterness holds tight around his heart. It makes him glare at nothing in particular as he marches on, as that earnest apology goes unheeded. It is not out of cruelty, but rather because that wound stretched deeper than just his skin. And that will take much more than a spell to heal.
They discover the hidden door behind the altar, and it doesn't take much longer to find the switch—a double-ended contraption that Gilgamesh and Setsuna toil together on until there's a meaningful click that signals their success. Gilgamesh remains quiet throughout, even if he's still turning over those words in his head, you do not have to face them alone. Yes, he recalls that strength he found faith in earlier. Perhaps...
Gilgamesh's eyes flicker to the door once it groans open, appear the slightest bit more resolute. Even if he won't make an outward display of it, both Vietnam and Setsuna's sentiments weigh on him. Setsuna's good intent, as ever, is not misplaced. For the King, it simply takes a bit longer to work through and process, especially in pensive moods such as these.
They walk, they walk, and they walk. They encounter no more enemies, which undeniably all present are grateful for. For as boisterous as he'd been earlier, Gilgamesh offers no conversation now, lost to his thoughts. A faint trickling catches his attention, breaks the silence, and fills him with a strange hope. He looks to his comrades to confirm it, that he hadn't just imagined it in his stupor.]
Do I detect a stream?
[More than that, maybe. Gilgamesh jogs, then outright runs ahead, and he nearly gasps as his vision's filled with brilliant blue.]
Could this be mana?! And from the water...
[Gilgamesh cannot be kept down for long, so it would seem. He calls back for them, excited:]
Look, look! Luck smiles upon us! You both must come quickly!
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They discover the hidden door behind the altar, and it doesn't take much longer to find the switch—a double-ended contraption that Gilgamesh and Setsuna toil together on until there's a meaningful click that signals their success. Gilgamesh remains quiet throughout, even if he's still turning over those words in his head, you do not have to face them alone. Yes, he recalls that strength he found faith in earlier. Perhaps...
Gilgamesh's eyes flicker to the door once it groans open, appear the slightest bit more resolute. Even if he won't make an outward display of it, both Vietnam and Setsuna's sentiments weigh on him. Setsuna's good intent, as ever, is not misplaced. For the King, it simply takes a bit longer to work through and process, especially in pensive moods such as these.
They walk, they walk, and they walk. They encounter no more enemies, which undeniably all present are grateful for. For as boisterous as he'd been earlier, Gilgamesh offers no conversation now, lost to his thoughts. A faint trickling catches his attention, breaks the silence, and fills him with a strange hope. He looks to his comrades to confirm it, that he hadn't just imagined it in his stupor.]
Do I detect a stream?
[More than that, maybe. Gilgamesh jogs, then outright runs ahead, and he nearly gasps as his vision's filled with brilliant blue.]
Could this be mana?! And from the water...
[Gilgamesh cannot be kept down for long, so it would seem. He calls back for them, excited:]
Look, look! Luck smiles upon us! You both must come quickly!