Oh? [ As though he were released from a spell, freed from some enchantment which had left him bound, rooted to his post atop the ledge, he comes alive again: lifting his arm high overhead, he bids for Fiole to take flight, the little phoenix fulfilling its Master's wish of soaring above, glimmering where the fireworks had once colored the night sky. ] I am obligated, then, to ensure that you remain as you are—wholly fulfilled and not lonesome at all—before I take my leave.

[ Which he makes to do now that the moment has passed, the reminder of the one who completed him faded and gone. He had mourned, paid homage to the man he could not save, and lamented the Demon that man would become, leaving only...

Another, still seated beside him on the ledge, brought there because of his own curse, something called a legacy, the future toward which he could not help but walk.

(Really, it's silly, and it's still much, much too sad, but then, there will always be painful truths to rise above.) ]

Come, then. [ Ah? What's this? An echo of the words he once said before? There is even the extension of his arm, the offering of his hand, though he does not expect for Gilgamesh to take it—rather, he anticipates the opposite (just what is he playing at?!). ] And know that your pity is misplaced; that there is more to kingship than the folly of pursuing a legacy.

[ But as to what that thing is... Sion does not say, he only glances down to Gilgamesh, dauntless as he seeks out the man's eyes. ]