middaeg | [closed] you gotta be cruel to be kind

[With a storm raging outside, it's no wonder that the halls of the Coven are particularly lively today. The arched windows flash, their frames rattling as wind and rain pelt the glass like a shelling of bullets, as beyond them, witches scramble in between buildings with books and cloaks and whatever they can get their hands on held over their heads. Those who were lucky enough to get inside before it started admire spines of lightning as they pierce the clouds, just happy to have a distraction from the monotony of their lectures.

Less intent on storm-watching, though, is Diarmuid. The topic of the day- illusion magic- isn't one that interests him but he's as diligent as ever, taking notes in his characteristic chicken scratch handwriting and flicking through tomes as the witch at the head of the hall speaks. Though there are reasons someone might need to disguise themselves as someone else, he can't say he's too enthused by the idea; in spite of its enormous practicality, the duplicity bothers him. Being literally as well as figuratively two-faced holds no appeal. But, if it's part of his studies, he'll do his best.

As he turns a page, the witch beside him yawns. Big mistake.

Out of nowhere, an ungodly loud peal of thunder rolls throughout the lecture hall, making tables and students alike shake with the power of it. One of them even falls out of their chair in surprise, looking back and forth for an indoor storm that doesn't materialise. Their teacher, a spindly man in burgundy, scowls.

"Page four hundred and twenty three: projection of sound- but we'll never get to it at this rate." He huffs. "Maybe a practical demonstration of today's subject might wake some of you up. Any volunteers?"

Silence. In fact, a good chunk of the class sink down and avoid eye contact altogether.

"No? Fine. Ua Duibhne, get up here. And... you there at the back."

Diarmuid gets to his feet, glancing around in time to follow where he's pointing to his fellow ~~unfortunate~~ student. A man with bright blonde hair and ruby eyes. Handsome, yes, but burning with the knowing regality and superiority of a monarch in a way that's both compelling and utterly infuriating. The Lancer would know him anywhere- though he was only able to put a True Name to the face thanks to a post on the network the previous month. Gilgamesh. Or rather, Archer.

Ah, there it is. That complicated knot of emotions in the pit of his stomach. Though his interactions with him had been brief- and he's worked out that this isn't the same incarnation- it's more the reminder of Fuyuki that unsettles him. As he heads to the front of the classroom, his expression hides little of his wariness; he almost looks like a cornered wolf.]

Edited 2020-03-04 23:52 (UTC)

[ nothing could go wrong with this scenario. absolutely nothing!

for all that Diarmuid might have a striking, apparently slightly terrifying image of Gilgamesh that has branded itself thoroughly into his mind, Gilgamesh has absolutely no image whatsoever of Diarmuid in his. of course, one might say that is because he never participated in a Grail War with Diarmuid in this summoning, but actually, he would have no recollection whatsoever of Diarmuid from any summoning. shit sucks, Diarmuid. or maybe you are lucky, actually, considering what happened when Gilgamesh deigned to notice Saber?

though the King of Heroes may naturally view knights to be of a lower caliber than a fellow King, he is not so insensible to the legends of fellow heroes that he does not react ever-so-slightly to that name -- the suggestion of another heroic spirit. in their original world, that would not mean much, for who else would they interact with if not one another during their summonings? but here, it is not a given that the interactions are always between heroes, or former heroes. in a sense, it is a little like needing to earn/prove one's hero title all over again in a new setting, which drives its own sort of competition, if not as violently as a Grail War. although perhaps certain among us feel that competitive spirit more than others? but then certain among us tend to be a little on the proud side, also. just a little.

speaking of -- ]

Projection of sound, is it? [ insert obligatory THIS, EVERYTHING!! ] Very well, mongrel! Clearly, it is for you to ensure that all of Aefenglom shall hear every word that I, your King, have to say!

[ welcome to the Bad End of the World, Diarmuid. ]

[it's been a hot minute since he heard that voice and boy does he wish it were more

The professor groans, evidently imagining what that laugh would sound like amplified by spells, and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"No, no, you seem to have the hang of that without the aid of magic. I want you to try and turn yourself into this man. Just the face and hair."

Diarmuid, meanwhile, seems to have settled down- if only slightly. Though he continues to regard Gilgamesh with a cool, unyielding stare, he can see through his mistrust enough to spot that there isn't so much as a flicker of recognition in his eyes. But, then again, he doubts that there would have been even if this were the same Archer as the one he had come up against. There seemed little room in his attentions for the riff-raff, after all, and Diarmuid qualified for just that.

Regardless, he makes an effort not to let too much of his hostility show; it would be unfair to judge him by the actions of someone else, even if they are the same person on some confusing level. He made Enkidu a promise to try. The Lancer greets him with a short, stiff bow.]

... I hope you won't be offended by any mistakes I make.

My face and hair, only? Hmph, no, that is quite unacceptable.

[ Gilgamesh shakes his head. ]

I, the King of Heroes, shall make you demonstrate your true worth. Look alive, mongrel. I am going to Cast Off.

Well, you are no virgin girl, but have conquered many maidens yourself, have you not? Therefore you shall be able to endure my nude form.

[ -- WHOOSH, he tosses his shirt away, hands already moving to begin to remove... other things. this is so tedious. back on the Moon Cell, he could do this without lifting a finger! ]

[So, this is how a king of his deific stature behaves? Needless to stay, Diarmuid looks thoroughly unimpressed both with his attitude and his crass wording. Before Gilgamesh can take it any further, though, he holds out a hand- probably to the disappointment of some of their classmates. He makes a point to openly size him up, though not with quite the same aesthetic appreciation as some of the others; his eyes are hawkish and challenging.]

... enough. I'd hate to ask our mentor to judge [his dick copying abilities] such a thing. You will do as you are now, sir.

[Not that he'll be joining him in stripping off ~~unless he's provoked hard enough~~. You can keep it, Gil.]

[ kings of deific stature were not, as a general rule, known for shame. not the Gilgamesh and Ozymandias kind of King, at least. but Ozymandias had a certain sort of grace and poise. Gilgamesh, much like his only friend, is half-wild and becomes civilized only when he is forced to do so by the needs of his subjects. right now, he has no subjects. not per se. so you do the math, Diarmuid.

of course, the King of Heroes is not entirely oblivious to standard norms and social decorum. when forced into situations such as the one he finds himself in now, or such as those Grail Wars, he enjoys his rebellious temperament a little too much as a defense against complacency and the powers that be. so maybe he does flaunt what you would call good taste. so, what of it? it is all for good fun and entertainment. ]

It is a competition, is it not? [ he does, at least, halt in his clothing removal. so, just shirtless Gil. ] As the King, I aspire towards excellence in all things. If it is a spell, I shall master it thrice.

[ ... maybe that is true. or maybe it is a bluff. does Gilgamesh even work? does he even put effort into things? just who knows! ]

To show your true potency, you should reveal all of me. Yet, if you would not, then show at least the pride of my visage. [ Diarmuid, u better... ] Ua Duibhe, was it? Can you capture my eye -- the eye that has seen all eras, from the beginning of time?

Edited 2020-03-08 20:13 (UTC)

[The corner of Diarmuid's lip twitches, though he himself can't decide whether it's irritation or genuine admiration of this man's sheer shamelessness. Humility is a virtue, yes, but his people were never known to play coy; they made an art form out of boasting and trash talk, turned it into poetry when others might consider it coarse. He's never been one to indulge too deeply in such things but even he isn't immune. The competitive part of him rears up at his provocation, at once bristling with aggression and utterly delighted to be tested.

He regards Gilgamesh for a few moments more, drinking the sight of him in silence. It's not so much capturing his physical form that concerns him so much as the presence he exudes. Mimicry isn't his forte but he'll be damned if he lets this man get the better of him.]

Then it would be no great challenge to ask the same complexity of you.

[With that, he pulls his shirt over his head and lets it drop to the floor. Though not completely bare from the waist up, his singlet clings to every inch of his body, following the curves of his chest and waist and each muscle as tightly as though he were wearing nothing at all. The back is cut sharply between his shoulder blades, revealing a little moe skin- and a number of telltale scratches.

Diarmuid pauses to run a hand roughly through his hair, briefly pushing that stray lock out of his face. There's a certain defiance to his stance as he tilts his head.]

As a king, it's your prerogative to decide who moves first.

Edited (s p e l l i n g) 2020-03-11 22:08 (UTC)

[ This Escalated Quickly.

Gilgamesh silently looks on as the other man continues what he himself began: a rapid reduction in clothing. However, as Diarmuid pushes that curl of hair aside, as he throws down the gauntlet with those bold words, for the first time, there is a flicker of something in the eyes of the King of Heroes. It obviously does not rise to the level of admiration, and even calling it appreciation would be a stretch, but for the first time, there is something like recognition. It is not recognition of Diarmuid as a heroic spirit; no, though Gilgamesh might know Diarmuid Ua Duibhne's legend from the Throne, they have still never encountered one another in their respective summonings. It is rather a recognition that Diarmuid, the man standing across from him in this classroom, has at least demonstrated boldness in this encounter. Might he even be termed a worthy opponent? Gilgamesh continues to watch, his only expression that lazy little smirk which never seems to go away. But his eyes are more attentive now, his gaze sharper, his eyebrows and lips lifted ever-so-slightly. The expression is still regally all-confident, that of a king being entertained at his pleasure garden. ]

Not bad, mongrel.

[ Gilgamesh laughs, tossing aside his shirt. as audaciously as he began, however, he does not push the envelope on nudity any further. the look he gives Diarmuid is characteristically feline in its mischief.

well, their class is certainly getting an eyeful of man flesh. not to mention that unfortunate professor who is holding his head in his hands. the storm rages on outside; there is a low, distant rumble of thunder, and the rain droplets on the windows and streaks of lightning cast alternating glow and shadow on their half-revealed bodies. beyond the slight acknowledgment in his eyes, beyond the way that Gilgamesh seems momentarily more grounded in the world by a voice that challenges him, his reaction is otherwise ambiguous. if he feels at all intimidated by the other man's physique, he does not show it. of course, Gilgamesh does not think in such terms. there is no denying Diarmuid is a hero of handsome proportions, as befitting a fellow legend. the King finds no flaw with what he sees -- not in that respect. the scars are fitting for a warrior. however, as Diarmuid himself has realized, what makes Gilgamesh a difficult opponent in this kind of contest is his sense of presence. self-doubt is simply not a part of the King's disposition. granted, his powers here are not at all what they were, obviously. in the strictly technical sense, he may or may not be at a disadvantage. but if the idea is that his presence must be copied...

... well, this should be Interesting, at least.

when that feral smirk again splits into laughter, Gilgamesh folds his arms. he finally looks quite genuinely amused. ]

So, you have decided to show yourself a man, after all! Very well. Then, let your deeds be the proof of your boldness.

[ he reaches up, purposefully spiking his hair. it just suits the Intense mood more, ok. ]

We who were once called the heroes of our people. In this or any world, I cannot be constrained as less than that. Do you remember yourself? As I said, prove yourself now. Go first and let me be the witness of your capabilities.

[ after all, Gilgamesh just wants his Entertainment. ]

[It starts so subtly that Gilgamesh might not even notice it at first. The glow starts at his mole in a soft pulsing light but quickly floods the rest of his face and exposed skin. The tips of his hair lighten, taking on a blonde colour that spreads through the rest like wildfire, changing its very texture and style as it burns through it. In under a minute, his dark curls have been replaced by Gilgamesh's trademark golden spikes and his eyes follow, turning crimson and changing shape with a few blinks. Even his build is different, mirroring the differences in where they carry their muscle with surprising accuracy. There are missteps, of course; the face isn't quite right (he still has a mole for starters) and neither is his skintone but overall... it's not bad.

And yet there's something altogether too reserved about it; while a decent copy superficially, his attitude is all wrong. Peculiar as it is to see, the faux King of Heroes seems as though he's been knocked down a rank or two in the aristocratic hierarchy. For all his efforts, Diarmuid doesn't quite have the bearing to make his disguise believable for the moment. He's still a knight in emperor's clothing.

Stranger still is that, when he speaks, a decidedly Irish accent comes out.]

I'll make no false claims as to my ability but- [He looks away, frowning. Again, the gesture is an odd fit on Gilgamesh.] But I will rise to meet your challenge, my lord.

[It's true he doesn't like him- hell, even wants to best him thoroughly- but that doesn't take away his royal status. Or perhaps it was that flicker of acknowledgement in his stare that softened his hostility; as one warrior to another, a hero facing a hero, he owes him a degree of respect. This is a duel and he'll not sully it with such pettiness.]

A few minutes more is all I ask.

[As he talks, his features are still shifting slightly beneath the glow, looking for the perfect shape.]

[ little does Diarmuid realize something extremely important and in fact game-changing about this encounter:

if only he had not been led by his own sense of Honor (you know, that ridiculous, self-effacing Honor that Saber is also into) to agree to go first in this encounter, he might have actually easily defeated Gilgamesh here. because here is a secret --

Gilgamesh's smug expression is a complete poker face.

you see, in actuality, there is no possible way Gilgamesh can ever mimic Diarmuid or enact the magic the professor has tasked him with, because to do so would be to imagine his own body altered somewhat or to see outside of himself to an extent he, especially in this context, is incapable of doing.

so, if Gilgamesh had gone first, he would have instantly lost.

but, Diarmuid went first, so now Gilgamesh is just doing this thing as the other heroic spirit mismanages his face. ]

Watch it, mongrel. [ though he does look a little like he is on the verge of laughter, his voice is a little... offended. even Gilgamesh seems ambiguous on whether to be amused or irritated, this time. ] Are you trying to insult me, hm?

Edited 2020-04-26 17:45 (UTC)

Hardly. [Finally, the features begin to settle- admittedly, on something that still isn't quite right but at least his eyes don't have his usual characteristic sleepy look and his jaw is more or less right. The next thing to appear are Gilgamesh's tattoos- or markings, or whatever those crimson lines adorning his skin are- and they materialize just as the mole fades away.]

By no means.

[There's little he can do about his voice or... basically everything else that he couldn't nail the first time around but he's doing his best. Even after all his studies, this is probably the limit of his ability- and he's not even sure how long he'll be able to hold it.]

Have I offended you?

[Good is his first thought. His second is a reflexive self-rebuke for thinking it. Regardless, Diarmuid can't help but look a little dejected- and that certainly doesn't help his disguise because he's sure that Gilgamesh has never felt inadequate in any of his lives. As much as he'd like to say that the opinion of someone as arrogant as this man means nothing to him, he's still a fellow warrior and a king no less. It's a weakness on his own part, Diarmuid thinks, that he still seeks his approval anyway.]

Edited 2020-04-26 19:06 (UTC)

[ Gilgamesh does not actually appear as offended as Diarmuid might expect.

certainly, botching any one of the King's perfect features should be ample reason for the man to be executed under ordinary law, but the further Diarmuid strains to shift the details of his face and body towards those of the golden king, the more Gilgamesh seems to be seeing through him.

soon, Gilgamesh appears not to see Diarmuid whatsoever. he is staring at a blank space.

there is no expression in his eyes, and there is no indication that he views himself or any feature of his reflected therein. ]

Unacceptable. [ the King of Heroes looks sidelong at the teacher. ] If even one hair on my head is out of place, it is an abject failure.

[ he says this with utter indifference, then returns his attention to Diarmuid.

Gilgamesh's amusement is sharp. ]

I shall acknowledge your peasant efforts. [ the King's eyes do finally settle on Diarmuid, though his expression remains distant. ] However, I commanded you to reveal the pride of my visage. Such grotesque superficiality reveals a basic misunderstanding of priorities.

[ the pride is Gilgamesh, and everything else follows from that.

he shrugs his shoulder and waves his hand dismissively. ]

Hm, well, that was quite dull. [ again, he looks to the teacher. ] I grant you permission to dismiss this commoner.

Edited 2020-05-15 01:39 (UTC)

[Diarmuid isn't the sort of person to get sentimental over a house; being part of the Fianna had meant having a transient lifestyle, going wherever they were needed, wherever battle called to them. It was only later that he had settled down and, while he'd always held the dream of a small castle on the cliffs, he didn't share the same affection for the land that came to be his. The same can be said of their apartment, which is why he has nothing but enthusiasm for their new home.

The grandest of the houses in this district had already been snapped up but the place they had eventually settled on suited the needs of its peculiar, mismatched inhabitants-to-be all the better for being simpler. With the last of the boxes- little though their possessions are- stacked up in the living room, Diarmuid takes a moment to sit on the stairs and take it all in. Three bedrooms, a conservative lounge and kitchen, and a cellar, ready to become whatever they needed it to be. But it was the presence of a garden that had initially captured his interest and, when he'd let Coill off his leash and set him free in it a short while ago, he clearly agreed. One seal of approval down.

Saying that, it still needed some attention; after lying empty for so long, a thin layer of dust had settled over every surface and it would take some work to scrub the damp and mould from the many windows. Luckily, he'd have an extra pair of hands to help him with that- and here he is right now.]

Ah, there you are! [He blows his hair up out of his face- where it stays for precisely two seconds before dropping back down- and smiles.] Which room did you want? I had the master bedroom in mind for Cú because he might want the extra space but I'm fine with either of the other two.

[Also he doesn't want to Cú to feel obliged to share a bed with him- or anyone for that matter- now there are options.

Either way, having had time to adjust to the idea of living with Flat, Diarmuid isn't quite as reticent as before but he still can't help but see the young mage as a small, blonde tornado in human form. But it's fine. If it makes Berserker happy, it doesn't matter what he thinks; the two have a deep bond, and not only in the capital letter "Bond" sense. Denying them this would be heartless beyond measure.]

Edited 2020-03-02 17:52 (UTC)

Dia!

[ flat is startled by the sudden greeting, practically jumping to turn around and face the celt. he had been standing still for the past few minutes, too impressed by the fact that he was moving in with them. it felt like a dream come true of sorts.

he only has one box with him, and even that is light—the amount of possessions he has are very few. ]

Um... any room is fine, actually. I’ve lived in a college dorm for ten years before coming here and those are pretty small! So this place is huge!

[ he looks around, eyes wide as plates. ]

Thank you so much...

[It's no surprise that he's bouncing off the walls; in Diarmuid's experience, if he's not at a normal baseline of five, he's at an eleven when it comes to excitability. In its own way, it's endearing- like watching a puppy explore new surroundings.]

There's really no need to thank me, you know. [Wait a second. The witch tilts his head to the side, one eyebrow arched in disbelief.] The same small room for ten years? I understand that it was part of your education but...

[no wonder he has an endless supply of energy]

To be honest I've only stayed there so long because the Professor won't let me graduate.

[ he scratches the back of his head, laughing sheepishly. ]

But I do want to thank you! You didn't have to accept me here, even if you probably did it for Cu's sake more than my own. I'm happy either way. And I'll do my best to behave too-- he definitely warned me a lot about it.

[ cu is on his way to getting stomach ulcers while dealing with flat. and who can blame him. ]

[For a moment, Diarmuid isn't quite sure what to say. It isn't simply that he's embarrassed at being caught out but a little ashamed too; while his warmth in welcoming Flat has been mostly genuine, it was insulting to think he wouldn't notice his reluctance too.]

... no, I... [He forces himself to look up and meet Flat's eyes.] I want you to feel like you belong here. You do belong here.

...

[ that actually shocks flat a little, his smile frozen for just a second. he did not expect that sort of earnest answer from diarmuid, and he has to think of a decent response.

when he can’t think of one, he simply laughs. ]

Don’t look like that, Dia! [ he grins at him. ] I feel like I belong here. It’s still shocking that Cu actually invited me to stay with you two, but I don’t feel like an outsider at all.

[If anything, Flat's cheerful response leaves Diarmuid at even more of a loss for words- but, in the face of such a bright smile, it's a fleeting kind of insecurity. After a few seconds, he manages a small, uncertain laugh of his own as he looks away. He still feels guilty but as long as Flat himself isn't offended, he'll take things as they come.]

... my apologies. I didn't mean to make things awkward so soon.

[Diarmuid shakes his head and, rubbing a hand through his hair, pushes up off of the steps and heads over.]

I was hoping to wait until at least the second week for that.

Awkward? How?

[ flat tilts his head, his expression one of genuine curiosity. even if dia’s hesitation was evident, this was not putting any sort of a damper in his mood and/or plans. ]

Oh? Could it be that you’re afraid of causing a love triangle between you, me, and Cu? Worry not! My feelings for him are not romantic at all!

[ he says it so proudly, too... ]

[Diarmuid has been on his feet for less than twenty seconds before Flat manages to nearly knock him straight back onto his ass without even being near him. Amazing.]

What?! [Flushing, he grabs hold of the bannister for support.] No! No, nothing like that! If anything, I'd be the one getting in the way!

[because that's just how it is with him, he's used to being the interloper]

How are you getting in the way if you’re his boyfriend and I’m his friend?

[ ???????????????????????

wait—

oh—

flat freezes, looking around for cu. when he’s sure that the dragon isn’t around, he whispers in a low, worried tone. ]

Could it be...that you don’t actually like him? [ oh, he sounds horrified ] Dia, you have to be honest with him!

[If he sounded shocked before, now he's downright appalled. Immediately, Diarmuid draws himself up to his full height, the colour in his cheeks now entirely because of indignance.]

No, that's even more ridiculous! I lo- [okay better cut that off before he gets carried away] He means everything to me.

[... but even he can see that his reasoning doesn't make sense from an outside perspective. Hell, it doesn't even make sense to him. With a sigh, he puts a hand to his forehead.]

... when I'm around, I... interrupt other people's relationships. It's always been like that and I don't want it to happen now.

Edited 2020-03-05 13:08 (UTC)

[ flat listens to his answer, eyes narrowing slightly as diarmuid gives his heartfelt explanation.

and then, he laughs. ]

Good! I'm glad that you like him as much as he likes you. That's why I don't think I can ever get in your way. It's pretty much impossible, really...unless you just don't want me to be Cu's friend, but I don't think that's the case either. So I think you'll be fine.

[Maybe he had to say it out loud before he realised how silly it sounded. This is so far removed from his first life that to even begin to compare the two was a nonstarter; things will be different, to be sure, but not in the way that he's so afraid of. The fear in him runs deep but not so much that he can't see that now.

A little tiredly, Diarmuid reaches out and ruffles Flat's hair. He isn't quite sure what to say but, rather than overthink it as he so often does, he just smiles and moves on.]

I think you're good for each other. [...] Well. Mostly.

Do you think so? Really?

[ well that's...actually shocking to hear. flat's taken by surprise by how diarmuid ruffles his hair in such a friendly manner, but the fact that he thinks that he and cu are actually good for each other (mostly, he gets it) he's left blinking a couple times in surprise. ]

I really like him. He's like if a porcupine had the personality of a honey badger and was over 2 meters tall, but then he's also like a really big cat that spits poison.

[ what the heck does that mean ]

I do.

[As for that description... Diarmuid spends a good few seconds staring at him, trying to replay his words and try and make some sense out of them- and he does eventually get there but it doesn't make it any less bizarre. But that doesn't surprise him in the slightest; he suspects that Flat will remain something of a peculiarity to him for the foreseable future.

Anyway. The point is that he's not wrong.]

... creatively put. [He chuckles softly.] And, like most cats, he always returns.

[that and it's just as cute when he starts purring]

And he purrs.

[ he laughs, thinking of the time that he had spent with cu in his dragon form. something that was supposed to be large and terrifying ended up being something so endearing to him.

but then again, flat found everything about him to be rather endearing. ]

I like him a lot.

[well someone had to say it]

And he purrs- it's very charming. [A coy smile flickers across his lips.] And he might not say it in so many words but I think he thinks the world of you too.

[But as much time as he could spend waxing poetic about Berserker, they have other things to get to. Diarmuid claps his hands together abruptly.]

Right! You need to pick a room and help me clean it.

[ llat would definitely love to continue talking about berserker while he's gone (because he doubts that cu would actually let this sort of conversation happen if he were around), but the prospect of getting his own room is even more exciting.

his eyes light up like stars, grinning excitedly at diarmuid. ]

Just give me the one you don't want! I'm happy with anything, even the couch!

[ he's just happy to be surrounded by others. ]

[closed] you gotta be cruel to be kind

for gilgamesh

sends an extremely cursed tag.

get behind me satan

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for flat

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