[closed]

[enkidoh]

Who: Enkidu & Gilgamesh
When: Begin of the month, the 2nd of February
Where: The treehouse
What: Dealing with Hakuno being gone, bond talking, fighting
Warnings: tba

Ever since Hakuno left their magic had become unstable. The balance they once felt was completely gone and in a way it felt as if there was too much magic inside of them and no outlet at all. That, and the usual sadness they felt after losing (yet another) bond.

When the sun comes up they move to sit up in their bed. Yes, they're tired but this time there are also tiny sparks coming from their fingers.

"Gil, we need to remedy this."

Enkidu looks at him and for a short moment in time they feel this pang going through their chest, aware of how gone Hakuno really is and that this isn't a forever for Gil and themselves either.

"The balance is lost and we need to get it back."

Comments

[gilgamess]

To think that the triumphant return of the King of Heroes from the golden towers beyond the Moon Cell to Geardagas would be followed by Hakuno's departure -- one which (if his own experience is anything to go by) perhaps signals her own return to the landscape he has only just left. Again, Gilgamesh's sojourn suggests that such comings and goings may not necessarily be infrequent and that there is perhaps some possibility of Hakuno joining them once more.

But this outcome... for once, it is not one which Gilgamesh had hoped for. In the presence of Enkidu, he could never feel solitary, and in any case, solitude is his habitually preferred state, but his decree was that Hakuno should be accompanying him. They were meant to walk beside one another throughout the stars and beyond.

When he had arrived here, much time had elapsed, and their reunion was only just beginning. For it to have already ended so soon -- there is a certain bitter cosmic joke at work here. Of course Enkidu shows their loss openly in their heavy expression, whereas Gilgamesh is more reserved, but it would be accurate to say that his body language radiates quiet disappointment in the face of his mongrel's disappearance. Fate being what it is and time being what it is, they may well encounter one another again, and perhaps sooner than anyone could suppose, but in the meanwhile, he hopes that she does not get into too much trouble.

Presently, he attends to Enkidu's words.

"Indeed, it would seem you are missing a Bond."

(You, we, they...)

"Well... shall you seek another, my friend?"

The King's tone is appropriately open: though he would not readily countenance Enkidu having another Bond any sooner than he would countenance Enkidu making new friends, he understands the necessity of the situation. For now, he would hear more of Enkidu's thoughts as to what should immediately transpire. He would hear more of their perspective and opinions.

[enkidoh]

Enkidu doesn't want to speak about feelings or whatever emotion shifts through their bond. It isn't sadness, it is something akin to disappointment. Maybe Gil had hoped for something forever, for something to stay the same.

"No Gil." They shake their head. "You are missing a bond. I cannot...hmmm..." They show him their hands and the flashes that dance between their fingers. "...the balance is gone..."

And then they smile softly.

"Your magic is quite potent and quite a lot. And it is difficult to find an outlet for all that comes flowing into me now Hakuno isn't here anymore..."

[gilgamess]

... ah.

His friend is correct, of course.

For that matter, Gilgamesh himself, also being a Witch, should perhaps feel some concerns over his own magic. If Enkidu is within this volatile state, then could the flow also misfire in the other direction? His gaze narrowing, he looks down at his own hands, flexing his fingers. He then reaches back up, stroking down the mess of his golden hair.

"At this moment, I do not notice a disruption in my own magic... yet it would seem possible, if this is occurring with you."

Something to be mindful of, in any case.

Presently, Gilgamesh returns his attention to his friend. His expression changes somewhat, becoming more mirthful.

"Aha, and what is your idea, at present, for rectifying this problem?"

If, indeed, they have one.

"Could it be that there is a short-term solution? If so, it is up to us, as companions, to discover it."

A chance to hone their magic together, as they did before.

[enkidoh]

"I think a certain sort of release is necessary."

Enkidu looks over their shoulder and finally moves to stand, adjusting their shirt in the process.

"To remedy the problems at hand..." They move to look at him and for that moment they're aware of a certain sort of relief. Together they would figure this out. This bond and this overflow of magic. "...hmmm...what if we use our magic against one another? In a duel." Then the smile around their lips turns more melancholic. "Like we used to do..."

[gilgamess]

Enkidu's tone, the tinge of melancholy, stirs something within the King of Heroes.

The consciousness of Gilgamesh, in life and in death, had been like a great and expansive web which rose into the stars above Uruk, and it was to those stars where he and Hakuno had traveled. Being here, with Enkidu, it is like being grounded once more in the garden where the journey began. Looking at them now, it feels like looking back through the sea of stars and to the very beginning of their road with one another and alongside one another.

In spite of everything, even of parting with his master, he thinks: all shall be well.

All ends are merely other beginnings, and just as Gilgamesh knew at the end of his days and the beginning of his time as a Servant, time and space, for the beings they were before, are merely malleable concepts. Fade and return again. Yet solitude was the King's destiny from birth. If he is to be alone again, in the Throne or elsewhere, then that is just as well: any time with his friend is both borrowed and something immutable that, once it has been spent, will exist forever, in legend or in the memory of humankind, until the end of the cosmos and the end of days.

Gilgamesh stands, readying himself into a certain pose -- one hand at his hip, with the other in a come hither gesture, as his feet and legs begin slowly to assume the panther-like bodily uncoiling of a fighting stance, that of a lithe and well-muscled body forged from the union of a goddess and a human, from ancient times.

Here and now is not there and then, yet in many ways, the shape remains the same.

"Then let us do as we did before, Enkidu," he agrees, simply.

[enkidoh]

Enkidu finds themselves fluctuating between what they were in Chaldea, what they used to be a long time ago and something they maybe always wanted to be. And they still have no idea what choice is the right one. To talk about upgrades or growth. After everything, they still do not have the right answer to all of their questions.

Perhaps the best thing to describe it is that they have learned how to want something they have always thought impossible to grasp.

So they watch their friend, hands resting in their lap, fingers still spread out as small sparks jump between them. Despite all that, the look on their face is a calm one and when he agrees to their proposition they smile. In a way fighting is the best way to let their hearts speak.

They can see how his pose changes and in return they clench their hands to fists, slowly moving away from the bed and almost automatically they lower themselves a little. And yes, they would love it if they could make their chains appear as if they have never been taken from them, but they have learned how to adapt. And their magic flourishes when surrounded by nature.

So this time there aren't any chains flying around, this time they murmur a soft spell that cause vines to crawl over the walls and the ground. Somewhere wood creaks, suffering under the pressure of said vines.

"I think that is the best way to solve this." Enkidu's voice is clear. "Just because I am not the best of witches does not mean I can't give you any trouble."

[gilgamess]

As the vines slowly creep across the walls, a similarly languid smile affixes to the expression of the King of Heroes.

The greenery is not out of place within the treehouse. No, rather, like Enkidu themselves, it is a natural fixture, and watching them, Gilgamesh's mind seems to exist in two eras simultaneously: despite the treehouse setting, despite the knowledge that this is another world, this is also Chaldea or the Moon Cell or the very beginning of time. Enkidu's voice speaks as it did from the wooded groves. As they move and crouch and twist with that exquisitely, gorgeously feral strength -- befitting a being who is very human, but also different, and other, and more -- it is that same haunting image of grace and power. This is not the Enkidu of the Rathmores' torture chambers. This is not the weakened, broken version of his friend that he encountered upon first arriving in this world. Rather, this is an image of Enkidu at their prime, as they were originally. Gilgamesh's expression is one of quiet admiration, but his smile spreads to something more feral.

He, too, can be as he was before. And so, lifting his hand from his hip, the King of Heroes snaps his fingers at his side. Enkidu is without their chains, and the King is without the Gate of Babylon, his supreme vault, but he is also a Witch, and he can also make due with magic. So with that snap, objects appear in the air. These objects mimic the weapons from the Gate: swords, knives, and hooked blades. This is the magic of item creation. It is not equivalent to the power he would have had before; these are not the originals of Noble Phantasms after all, but at least it is a good approximation of magic, and one he has been honing and reserving for this moment.

He spreads his arms.

"Fuahaha, Enkidu... are you prepared to take my all ... " -- his eyes narrow; yes, there is a deliberate hint of suggestiveness there -- "... my friend?"

[enkidoh]

The tired expression has completely disappeared from Enkidu's face. And the tips of their fingers might still flash from time to time but it doesn't really matter anymore. It seems to be irrelevant when he appears in front of them like this. Of course, the Coven has denied him access to his vault, yet it is not something that stands in his way.

"Ah..." Shaky as their magic might be, they manage to get it to focus, to let those vines grow thicker, to make them able to lash out. "...Of course I am, Gil. I may hope you are able to handle my full strength."

And as they speak they are not even thinking about how their magic has always been lacking something. Not when they're surrounded by nature. So Enkidu smiles in a confident way at him.

"Now."

The word is nothing but a whisper but immediately the vines shoot forward, some aimed at Gil's weapons, others aimed at his body. And immediately after that Enkidu jumps forward as well, arms stretched out and there's this slight yellow flash in their green eyes.

"Dearest friend, show me all you can do."

[gilgamess]

Any hesitation on Enkidu's part, any dissatisfaction in their magic capacities as a Witch, has disappeared altogether.

As soon as the vines appear, the objects -- many golden in hue -- shoot forth as projectiles, and Gilgamesh leaps backward, a playful dodge. Not that he is running: oh no, not by any means. This is merely the same dance as before. In order to parry the King blow for blow, Enkidu must necessarily make their way through the rain of swords and other weapons. It is a familiar routine, and one which the King of Heroes knows his friend is well-attuned for.

There is gladness in his heart and laughter in his voice.

Laughter bubbles forth, a soft undercurrent of sound, a joy that fills the room as do the vines and the blades. There is the clash of metal, the slicing of air, that sharp whipcrack rhythm of vines and swords combining in an unlikely dance. To Gilgamesh, it is a welcome music: no sooner does the crinkling rhythm of the phantasmal vines lash with brute intensity than they are severed by blades -- but of course, there shall be another round of vines, and another round of blades. This is merely the first parry. But there is an elegance to it all. Destruction and renewal. Enkidu sings of the Earth, of creation. Gilgamesh destroys. The sharp tips of swords lop the flowers from the vines, and there is a burst, an explosion of greenery that suffuses the air, rushing up in a brief flurry before falling to the ground as a carpet of chopped greenery, an impromptu garden of buds and flower heads and green, thriving vine chunks, all beneath their feet. But Gilgamesh pushes himself backward, dodging the fallout.

There is an artistry to it all -- a composition, of sorts. They are building, and playing, and fighting, and destroying, and enjoying life all at once. The dance of blades and the dance of vines and the dance of hearts. It is exhilarating -- the scent like a perfume that permeates the King's nostrils as the intensity of his breathing increases, his lungs taking in the cool, sharp air.

"As expected..." of my friend, it goes unsaid.

His breathing is only slightly more shallow.

The King of Heroes's pose suggests that he is still prepared for further motion, for another parry or leap. As he lands, he is light on his feet, keenly awaiting the next move. He waves a hand, gesturing Enkidu as they lunge towards him. That, too, is familiar. He must ready himself for the next blow and set of strikes. But he is more than a little excited to do so, and every inch of him suggests as much.