[Soon enough, disgustingly enough, all that lies at their feet are twitching piles of snake guts. The few snakes that yet remain slither away in cowardice, and Gilgamesh gives a harumph of victory, shaking his fist and yelling after them:]

Of course you'd flee from a King and his fearsome troops! Back to the depths with you, where your filthy kind belongs!

[Spitting upon the space they'd left behind, Gilgamesh turns to scan over the poem once more, reading certain bits aloud.]

A vile gaze... their repulsive stare... your journey blessed...

[To receive blessing, one must present an offering. And what do they have to offer? What do they currently have in abundance that might serve as an appropriate tribute to such a goddess? Gilgamesh surveys the carnage, and cringes as he happens upon the answer.]

Gaze. Stare. Is this not verbiage that refers to the eyes?

[He cringes, because eyes weren't bodies. They were attached to bodies, and thus required detachment. That must have been what the needle and cord was for. Gilgamesh glances over to Setsuna, then to Vietnam, and then makes a hasty decision.]

Vietnam is clearly the best suited among us for such a task! For her... fortitude. [Sweats.] Yes.