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[babbylon]

Who: Gilgamesh and you!
When: First Bloom Festival (February 7th—10th)
Where: Town Plaza
What: Gilgamesh celebrates the holiday in his own "special" way.
Rating: It's Gilgamesh. Anything could happen.

FLOWER CHILD.

[Gilgamesh had little use for flowers, though he did take the time to admire them on occasion within his own gardens. Here, they're all but forced upon him, shoved into his arms, spelled into his hair against his wishes for the sake of advertisement, they'd said, and as a result he looks like a very silly tyrant stamping his feet in the streets and grumbling about once again being bullied into menial tasks. It's a bit difficult to take him seriously with snowy white lilies falling off his ears, though.

And somehow they'd insisted it was for the good of all Heroes that he do this, and he didn't know about the rest of them but for the good of himself at least he was willing to hand out a few roses and smile like he meant it. He didn't. Admittedly after awhile he finds he doesn't mind it so much, and even decides to use the flowers to his advantage, wooing pretty girls and flirting with gorgeous men and wasting the hours away holding onto those beautiful bouquets.

Eventually, Gilgamesh may even give you a rose... with the sincerest hopes you may choose to tip him generously with your colle, of course.]

LIGHT UP THE NIGHT.

[Gilgamesh settles down in the evenings to enjoy the lions on parade. The fireworks are mostly a bonus; he's fascinated by the mechanical animals, mostly, watching them move and dance, and he's reminded of home. It puts him in a very purposeful sort of mood, and thus Gilgamesh goes out seeking a member of crowd—anyone, really, whoever was nearest—to join him in the upcoming festivities.]

Come with me! Let us enjoy the rest together!

[And assuming they didn't protest too much, or even if they did, Gilgamesh finds a quiet spot in the snow to observe. In this case, he really did mean well. It just seemed awfully sad to indulge in this sort of thing alone, and Gilgamesh refused to appear as anything short of what he was: a splendid and beloved King.]

YOU AIN'T LION.

[Gilgamesh was taken enough with the mechanical lions, so imagine his great joy when the real ones come parading out. He cheers! He waves! He practically wriggles with excitement, in the best mood he's been since arriving. Lions were more than mere pets for the King. They were a symbol of his station, representative of all that he was—glorious, majestic, and strong. It takes some finagling, but once the demonstration ends he bribes one of the tamers for some private time with the animal.

And Gilgamesh looks ecstatic. He buries his face into the animal's mane and sighs, content. The lion appears comfortable; apparently he had a way with them.]

Such a beautiful beast. You were meant for more than this, you know.

[So a softer side to the tyrant reveals itself. Anyone happening by will see him utterly in his element. For the moment, he's much easier to approach.]

MONKEY BUSINESS.

H... hey! Get back here! Get back here this instant, you filthy mongrel!

[See that frantic blur of blonde hair rushing past? That was Gilgamesh, and he's currently engaged in a high speed pursuit with one of the finely dressed monkeys in town. It's made off with his wallet and Gilgamesh caught them right in the act, contrary to common rumor that oh, they're entirely harmless. Unfortunately, he's not quite fast enough to catch up and the clever thing just leads him around in circles, chittering in amusement to itself all the way.

Gilgamesh, needless to say, does not look amused at all. Out of breath, he winds up stumbling into you. But while you're there, maybe you can help?]

Assist me! If it's the two of us, we can certainly corner it!

[Give him a hand, or laugh at his misfortune? It's up to you.]

(( Got another prompt in mind? Come at me! Feel free to PM with any questions or ideas. ))

Comments

[babbylon]

[Perhaps saint was not the right word. But if this man had killed—and he knows that he has, those who fought would always recognize each other in some form or fashion—he doubts it was with any sort of gleefulness, with genuine thirst for blood. One who respected life so highly could not revel in death, rather, saw it as an inevitability. If he had killed, and if there had been death, there had also been regrets along the way.

Not even Gilgamesh spoke lightly of such things. It's why he doesn't ask at all.

He comes to a small spot upon a lonely hill, hidden from sight and overshadowed by buildings. He kneels to brush the snow back. The grass was all gone underneath, so it was just a matter of pushing the dirt away. However, Gilgamesh drew the line there. He would not soil his hands like this.

Instead, he gestures for Setsuna to join him. It's bothersome that someone would be considered his equal, but if it's only for a moment...]

Plant it yourself. With your own will.

[That's what he told him back when they went for tea. He remembers.]

[quaria]

[ To hear his words be remembered... Setsuna feels the faintest honor from it. To live with one's own will, that is at least a phrase that he wants to extend to others. He wouldn't preach it openly; it's just something that he hopes will be remembered, even by at least one person... It's one proof that he was able to make the smallest difference when he was alive.

Lowering his eyes and knees, Setsuna sits against the soft snow as he begins to dig the cold ground. He's doing it carefully, moving aside the dirt so he'd be able to make a decent enough gap. Before he plants the actual rose however, he makes sure to prepare the soil first. He can't leave it in frozen dirt... So he takes out his drinking flask, then places just enough water to dampen the soil. While waiting for it to be absorbed, he looks towards the evening view of the city... All while still holding the flower itself, wanting it to give as much mana as possible before letting it go. ]

... Sorry.

[ He just felt like saying that for some reason. He knows that he's bad company, yet this person insists on staying with him whenever he can. He doesn't really know what the King gains from doing it, which is probably why he felt the need to say that at least once. He isn't quite used to this... It likely shows. ]

[babbylon]

[It doesn't really bring him any sense of joy or fulfillment. In fact, Gilgamesh was quite certain his time was much better off spent doing something else—anything else. But he feels compelled to stay and watch all the same, because Setsuna had made it sound so important. Being the childish King he was, he'd feel envious being left out. As he said, if they had to do it, he would make certain it was done up to his impeccable standards, and that was that.]

I hope you are satisfied. We look like a pair of bleeding hearts.

[Though there's not much fire to his words as he says it, and he leans over, and touches the flower, brushing Setsuna's fingers in the process. There. Mana to spare. He'd have to be thankful for it now. At least the rose looks the slightest bit brighter for their efforts, even if it didn't matter at all.]

Honestly, worrying over such meaningless things... you'll only cause concern for your comrades.

[Probably had, in the past. But again, Gilgamesh's chiding comes more gently than usual, to the point it sounds more like commiserating than anything else.]

[quaria]

[ If it's so meaningless, then why... Setsuna wants to ask, but he probably won't understand it even he does so. He opts to accept the situation for what it is, lowering his head again as silent gratitude. The flower surely appreciated it. ... And now, it's time to say goodbye.

The dirt is now moist, any more exposure to winter will only freeze it again. Setsuna raises the flower to his face one last time, leaning his forehead against it as he closes his eyes. He remains like that for several seconds before bringing it down. He plants the rose properly, making sure that it's deep enough for the ground to wrap its own mana against the fragile blossom. Perhaps one day, they'll meet again.

When that's done, the Meister lifts himself up and wordlessly uses the remaining water from the flask to wash away the lingering ice from his fingers. What ever warmth left in his hands is surely gone at this point. Was everything truly pointless? Maybe it was; but for him, it's not. Again, he doesn't expect anyone to understand. ]

There is nothing to be concerned about.

[ And with those equally cold words, he turns back to the direction of the city. He doesn't walk forward yet, waiting to see what the King will do now. ]

[babbylon]

You are so soft with the world.

[It is earnest observation, and one that escapes him before he can think to stop himself. He'd gripped that hand before. He knew what it held in the past. A gun. A knife. Worse. He could see the strength in his body, though it was comparatively small to everything and everyone else around him. There was no waste in his movements, no mistaken extensions of energy. Every step was purposeful, like he knew exactly where he was going—even if he definitively did not.

It intrigues him more than he cares to let on, beyond simply chasing after a pretty face. Gilgamesh was bored of humans, bored of their whims, but Setsuna was interesting. He was different. And that was enough to pursue him, just to see where he'd lead him, what he'd do.

That is why when he says you are so soft it doesn't quite sound as scathing as it should.]

But to fill it with beauty, one flower at a time... even if it is meaningless, even if that world remained a cold and heartless place...

[Gilgamesh rises to his feet. He doesn't move to follow. He just watches Setsuna's back, subdued.]

You could wish for worse, I suppose.

[quaria]

It is not meaningless.

[ Setsuna finally said it... He understands that the King is aware of his feelings, but saying it with a clear voice will solidify his stance. Knowing that Gilgamesh's gaze continues to linger, he can sense the other male's curiosity. Exactly what is this person expecting from him? Why does he keep trying to see through him? But that's probably wrong. No, this King isn't necessarily trying to know him. He's seeking something else entirely... The Meister doesn't know what, but he determines it as so. Why else would this person be so interested? He felt nothing for any of those flowers he held not long ago, yet here he is.

Did they have similar goals, are they both searching for answers? Even if this is the case, it's unlikely to be the same end. Setsuna is fully aware of how contrasting they are. Should their paths will cross more than once or twice, their direction will ultimately never be the same. It makes him wonder... So, what does he have to draw this attention? It likely didn't matter. He didn't need to figure it out. He's not here to question himself, what is more important is to never lose sight of himself. But as someone who isn't one with words, he has to resort to something else to set his emotions across properly. ]

King, I wish to fight you.

[ Through battle, Setsuna is able to say so much more. If Gilgamesh is seeking something from him, then he will display it through force. This isn't a fight for domination, it's a fight to reach understanding. His heart, his motivation...

"I will show you the meaning of life that I have found," these are the unsaid words that came through from Setsuna's eyes. He turns around, facing the King again with a sharper look. ]

[babbylon]

[But it is, Gilgamesh would tell him; all you know and love will disappear someday, just like this flower. Cruelty beats in his heart. It rests on the tip of his tongue, urges defiance. And ordinarily he would deliver it without prejudice. Ordinarily he would scold this man and tell him just how wrong he was. That was his nature, after all, to deliver a swift hand of judgment whenever it was required.

Yet he's stopped just shy of doing so when Setsuna issues his challenge. Gilgamesh feels himself standing all the straighter just to hear it, responding on instinct. Setsuna has struck true with at least one assumption: facing a Servant in combat was arguably the best way to understand them. It was what they lived for. It was all they knew.

Gilgamesh's hands were smooth, perfect, and divine. But they too had held weapons, had been bloodied and dirty with the lives of others. And when Gilgamesh looks back at Setsuna now, when he faces those sharp eyes, Setsuna can rest assured that he has been understood. That he will be understood. Gilgamesh was no warrior, but he could and he would fight, as King among his kind.]

I accept.

[Life lost meaning for me long ago, Gilgamesh's gaze answers. This would be the true test of that so-called will.]

Come find me in the courtyard tomorrow. Early morning, just before sunrise, when we might be alone. I will wait for you.

[He will wait and he will win and he will show Setsuna the meaning of his own battle.]

[quaria]

[ How tragic... Setsuna didn't fail to catch the meaning of that empty gaze. He never once forgot, either. He remembers the King's words from before; how he lives, breathes, and glories in battle. Although he shares a similar fate, there's a significant boundary between the two of them. Is this... the reason why the King wants to seek him? This evident clash of ideologies... Regardless, everything be made clear tomorrow.

He will not be deterred with such ridicule, unsaid or otherwise. Thus he will not waver; his distant eyes narrow, his lips remain closed, unaffected by the harsh winter and the King's aura. Eventually, those eyes of his close as he turns away once more. And this time, his feet doesn't stop. He walks forward, just as he has always done. Despite the other man's confidence, no one can truly predict what can transpire. Because he has no intention of holding back when it comes to proving his own resolve.

There's something Setsuna must do... This fight and the upcoming war, he regards them both as a necessity to be a step closer to true understanding. ]