[Gilgamesh shifts a little, so they can more comfortably lie against each other. Setsuna could spend a few hours here, or even the night; he knows Adra wouldn't mind, wouldn't disturb them. And he looks so tired. Truth be told, Setsuna always looks tired. Tired with the world. Tired with his life. Tired with the sins he carries, and all the people who continue to tell him you are worth something when it often seems he feels less than nothing.
But it isn't true. Gilgamesh would never assume as worthless man as his knight. All the things Setsuna says, all he argues against, it's really just stubbornness. Stubbornness, and perhaps conditioning of the worst sort. Conditioning that seeps down to the soul and corrupts it, whispers in ears, wearing away at what remains of sanity. Gilgamesh can understand that. Actually, there's a lot he can understand even as he claims otherwise, to be above and beyond all people.
And what he understands now is that, for whatever reason, he has formed a connection with this man and doesn't wish to let go. Nothing and no one will ever replace Enkidu, his truest knight and dearest friend. His weapon, his world. But he has Setsuna. He can allow himself that much, company to his crown. A little shadow to stand in his sun, though just as grand in his own way. Because, after all, a shadow cast by a King was quite large, indeed.
Gilgamesh buries his face in that crown of messy hair and plants a kiss on it.]
I will look after you, as you have looked after me. It is an order, so don't refuse.
[Because, even if he did, Gilgamesh would remain, as he always did and always would, until the end of time.]
no subject
[Gilgamesh shifts a little, so they can more comfortably lie against each other. Setsuna could spend a few hours here, or even the night; he knows Adra wouldn't mind, wouldn't disturb them. And he looks so tired. Truth be told, Setsuna always looks tired. Tired with the world. Tired with his life. Tired with the sins he carries, and all the people who continue to tell him you are worth something when it often seems he feels less than nothing.
But it isn't true. Gilgamesh would never assume as worthless man as his knight. All the things Setsuna says, all he argues against, it's really just stubbornness. Stubbornness, and perhaps conditioning of the worst sort. Conditioning that seeps down to the soul and corrupts it, whispers in ears, wearing away at what remains of sanity. Gilgamesh can understand that. Actually, there's a lot he can understand even as he claims otherwise, to be above and beyond all people.
And what he understands now is that, for whatever reason, he has formed a connection with this man and doesn't wish to let go. Nothing and no one will ever replace Enkidu, his truest knight and dearest friend. His weapon, his world. But he has Setsuna. He can allow himself that much, company to his crown. A little shadow to stand in his sun, though just as grand in his own way. Because, after all, a shadow cast by a King was quite large, indeed.
Gilgamesh buries his face in that crown of messy hair and plants a kiss on it.]
I will look after you, as you have looked after me. It is an order, so don't refuse.
[Because, even if he did, Gilgamesh would remain, as he always did and always would, until the end of time.]