It is early in the morning when Enkidu wakes up. Their body aches all over and it seems the cracks have gone worse over the night. Carefully they touch their face and can feel how the one on their cheek has grown deeper and longer. And the second that they move to stand they know that their body isn’t going to hold on much longer.

They aren’t sad. No, not at all. Yet they dread to feel themselves crumbling apart again. Been there, done that and it wasn’t fun at all.

Slowly Enkidu starts to grab their clothes. A simple white, linen shirt. The pair of white pants they normally wear, a pair of soft socks. It is still very early and they dress quickly. It could be that Ozymandias was still sleeping and, to be fair, they do not wish to face him at a moment like this.

But alas, it is known that luck mostly isn’t on Enkidu’s side and the first thing they do after they walk out of their room is bumping into the pharaoh himself.

“Ah.” Enkidu closes the door carefully. “I did not know you were fond of mornings.”