Some of the drunkenness has worn off, enough for Gilgamesh to realize he's going to die. That's fine, isn't it? He's done his best. He had a world to return to. Maybe, if he lost his life, he could go back. Back to his station, back to his garden. All of this has been a mistake, he realizes, floating through the water. Sinking to the bottom of the sea. Beyond salvation, beyond hope, beyond anything but the darkness of death.
I do not belong here, he thinks, as everything begins to lose its color. Not with Asuna or Slaine or Setsuna or anyone else. This was his fault. His fault for exposing himself, his fault for falling prey to such weakness. His fault for opening himself to others. His fault for laughing and smiling and believing in those people. His fault for forgetting what he had been and what he was always destined to be.
He's going to die, and that's fine. That's what rebirth means. Something must be destroyed first. Of course, what he doesn't realize is that it's the alcohol still talking, to a degree. A Gilgamesh in his right mind would never embrace death, but the more he plummets, the more he loses hope. He can't swim. He can't rely on his crew to save him. This was his fault, his fault...
But squinting, he manages to see something.
A body. A hand. Reaching out to him. A voice that's muted. A light that's warm. "I told you to wait..."
Can he trust it? Gilgamesh makes no effort to move, at first. Blinks.
Who are you?
Why did you come for me?
You know, I am a King, so I don't need anyone.
Just go.
By order of the King, I don't need anyone at all, along this path of mine—
There's no time for argument. He's grabbed, and with shocking strength, forced back towards the surface. Towards the howling storm, pulled to shore. He gasps for breath, feels life fill his lungs and wonders what must've overtaken him to give up so quickly. His vision's still fuzzy, but nonetheless, he clings to his savior. I am a King. I don't need anyone.
But maybe this person wasn't just anyone after all.]
no subject
Some of the drunkenness has worn off, enough for Gilgamesh to realize he's going to die. That's fine, isn't it? He's done his best. He had a world to return to. Maybe, if he lost his life, he could go back. Back to his station, back to his garden. All of this has been a mistake, he realizes, floating through the water. Sinking to the bottom of the sea. Beyond salvation, beyond hope, beyond anything but the darkness of death.
I do not belong here, he thinks, as everything begins to lose its color. Not with Asuna or Slaine or Setsuna or anyone else. This was his fault. His fault for exposing himself, his fault for falling prey to such weakness. His fault for opening himself to others. His fault for laughing and smiling and believing in those people. His fault for forgetting what he had been and what he was always destined to be.
He's going to die, and that's fine. That's what rebirth means. Something must be destroyed first. Of course, what he doesn't realize is that it's the alcohol still talking, to a degree. A Gilgamesh in his right mind would never embrace death, but the more he plummets, the more he loses hope. He can't swim. He can't rely on his crew to save him. This was his fault, his fault...
But squinting, he manages to see something.
A body. A hand. Reaching out to him. A voice that's muted. A light that's warm. "I told you to wait..."
Can he trust it? Gilgamesh makes no effort to move, at first. Blinks.
Who are you?
Why did you come for me?
You know, I am a King, so I don't need anyone.
Just go.
By order of the King, I don't need anyone at all, along this path of mine—
There's no time for argument. He's grabbed, and with shocking strength, forced back towards the surface. Towards the howling storm, pulled to shore. He gasps for breath, feels life fill his lungs and wonders what must've overtaken him to give up so quickly. His vision's still fuzzy, but nonetheless, he clings to his savior. I am a King. I don't need anyone.
But maybe this person wasn't just anyone after all.]