[They enter the room, and Gilgamesh finds himself at once overwhelmed.
This time, it's not because of a harrowing enemy, or a splendid pool, or anything else they've encountered thus far, but because of treasure. Treasure, treasure, everywhere, and all of it reminding him of what he once owned within his peerless Gate of Babylon. His grin fades and he steps forward as if in a daze, as if he doesn't really believe what's before his eyes. This, too, was the shape nostalgia took.]
Gold...?
[More than that, even. Gold, silver, precious gems, weapons and armor and enough riches to make them all millionaires. There's no way to cart it off, of course, and that's the real tragedy of it. It glistens and glows within this room, and within this room it shall remain.
Paying no mind to the statue, Gilgamesh kneels before a mountain of coins, running a few through his fingers.]
And so much of it... I believe this discovery will have the Commander quite pleased with us.
[Tragedy, and then reality—the soldiers would simply come in and claim it all in the name of Blanc. What a waste; Gilgamesh pulls away, and ever a waterfall of shifting emotion, descends into gloom once more. He looks to a raised pedestal, near to the statue, and approaches when he sees something that doesn't quite belong.
What was a mundane needle and thread doing here? This probably bore some inspection.]
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This time, it's not because of a harrowing enemy, or a splendid pool, or anything else they've encountered thus far, but because of treasure. Treasure, treasure, everywhere, and all of it reminding him of what he once owned within his peerless Gate of Babylon. His grin fades and he steps forward as if in a daze, as if he doesn't really believe what's before his eyes. This, too, was the shape nostalgia took.]
Gold...?
[More than that, even. Gold, silver, precious gems, weapons and armor and enough riches to make them all millionaires. There's no way to cart it off, of course, and that's the real tragedy of it. It glistens and glows within this room, and within this room it shall remain.
Paying no mind to the statue, Gilgamesh kneels before a mountain of coins, running a few through his fingers.]
And so much of it... I believe this discovery will have the Commander quite pleased with us.
[Tragedy, and then reality—the soldiers would simply come in and claim it all in the name of Blanc. What a waste; Gilgamesh pulls away, and ever a waterfall of shifting emotion, descends into gloom once more. He looks to a raised pedestal, near to the statue, and approaches when he sees something that doesn't quite belong.
What was a mundane needle and thread doing here? This probably bore some inspection.]