Gilgamesh always had admired the arts, it was no shock to him that he started an intimate relationship with an artist. Today was one of the days he remembered where his admiration to his s/oâs devotion to writing rooted from. They were both lounging in his royal patio overlooking the Sumerian City filled with lavish greens surrounding them accompanied with wine glasses filled up to the rim. Gilgamesh was taking in the sight while s/o was sitting beside him looking down as they wrote, everything seemed perfect. It wasnât until their irritated sigh caught his attention that he thought otherwise. He turned his head a bit to the side so he could peer at his beloved who he now realized was out of sorts. Their hair was displaced, eyes were intensely focused on their paper, and their leg was shaking profusely beneath them. He thought that their disheveled appearance was kind of cute in its own messy way, but couldnât help to notice that their demeanor was far off from what heâs used to. From sure to flustered. Yes, he could understand the frustration. He knew what writing was and what writing was to them; he appreciated the focus they had in their work and determination on their face, but must they be so distressed while laying in his palace, in his company? Or rather, how was it possible to be so stressed when having everything available to them just a request away, with him not even a step away. He wouldnât stand to see his s/o so unhappy and had try to resolve their troubles. With the snap of his fingers he has servants enter with trays filled with grapes and other fine fruits to accompany the wine theyâve had at hand. Sure that this would have calmed his s/o and that it should bring a smile to their face, he turned to them with a smug smile of his own only to have it dissolve. S/o only glancing at the food before them and facing back down as they were before. With another snap of his fingers the palace servants left from where they entered just moments before. Gilgamesh let out a sigh before questioning their distress only to be answered with an unhappy, frustrated voice. âWriters Block.â A familiar phrase he knew of, but scarcely experienced himself. No need for a king to write his own materials. He tried to convince his lover to stop writing for a moment and to âtake a break, breathe and relax a little,â he claimed. But for s/o, a passionate writer, to stop is to give up and that simply wasnât an option! So they stayed as they were before, lounging in his royal patio overlooking the Sumerian City filled with lavish greens. For a moment that is. Gilgamesh being one to get what he wants, he rose from his seat. For a king to watch his queen suffer so, is simply unacceptable! In an instant he picked them up with his toned arms forcing to leave the chair theyâd been seated in for so long with a pen to their chin. S/o protested quickly, but was cut off by a peck on their lips. âWorrying so doesnât suit my queen and as ruler of this land I command you retire for the evening! You may continue to write with fresh eyes tomorrow.â S/o was baffled to say the least and even a little irritated to be taken away from their work, but they knew Gilgamesh âking of kingsâ did it because he cared for them and didnât want to see them as they just were. So they rested with the blonde king by their side.
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