The One Who Saw All

Caster Gilgamesh | Fate/Series | affiliated with Eidolon path

[first-hero-blog]

blue-hound‌:

Lancer’s eyes barely narrowed at the comment as he continued to chew on the delicious meat. Would he have continued to serve had the King broken his word? Boredom was a dangerous foe, and with each passing day, even worse enemies appeared. He had chosen his allies before, how different could this be?

“ Hmph…” He swallowed and added the clean bone to the pile on his dish.

“I wanted to keep fighting, that was my wish. So it happened, I can heal my wounds. It’s nothin’ like a servant’s regeneration, but it’s more than what I had.” Lancer picked another rib, his eyes still on Gilgamesh. 

“Each one of these trials, the goddess is judging us. It’s almost as if she wanted us to prove worthy of recovering our power. Annoyin’, but how many annoying things are out there?” without another word he git into another rib, peeling off the tender lamb flesh.

“Wine? Rumor has it you have the best ever existed”

Gilgamesh’s hands only parted once while Cú spoke, pulling off a small bit of meat from the boar dish in order to pop it into his mouth. Merely a bite, hardly a joining of this feast. He sucked the gingerly sauce off of his fingers tips, leaving his hand clean. 

“Ah, indeed. My wine is the finest this world has ever known, brewed by the hands of Uruk’s citizens themselves. However, it is still out of my reach.” The King sighed his disappointment, and with a raised hand, opened yet another shimmering portal. Out he pulled a large glass mug, filled to the brim with rich golden beer. He slid it over to Cú. “This is the best I can offer for now. Again, not quite the beer of my Uruk either, but it is satisfactory.”

And that was the extent of his granted power for the day. How pathetic. There was a glimpse of a sour look on his face, before he pushed himself to dwell on other more vital matters. 

“So you’ve regained some of your regenerative capabilities. Useful. Especially considering what I must ask of you.” His fingers tapped together at their tips. “From now onward, you will protect not only myself, but my friend as well--Kingu. Surely you’ve seen him beside me before, with that long green hair of his. I have reason to believe that certain individuals may seek to harm him.”

[purgedfaith-deactivated20200315]

“   What a nuisance. I’m almost glad this place doesn’t take respite in silly holidays like Valentine’s Day. Feels kinda offensive to even call it a point of celebration …is it really worth all the trouble? You can eat chocolate any time of the year.  ”

[first-hero-blog]

“Simply state the fact that you are an incel and go.”

[au-delete]

[first-hero-blog]

kingservant‌:

it feels like bedivere’s heart has leapt into his throat, fluttering against the walls of his trachea like a trapped bird. the other knows him, clearly, enough to pin him as a saber at the very least, but the knight is certain he has never laid eyes on the man in his life. admittedly, that life had been spent looking for one man and ignoring the rest, but he would remember someone like this–surely?

“i was simply not expecting to see someone of such majesty in a place like this, milord,” he responds with his gaze turned to the half-melted snow underfoot. flattery is always a safe option. “you will have to forgive me–i know neither your name nor your title, though you seem to know me well enough. a grave oversight on my part.”

“Your Majesty or My King will do as far as titles, Saber.” Gilgamesh walks, slow steps bringing him around the knight once.His eyes are observatory, not predatory, even if his motions seem akin to a lion sizing up prey. He comes to stand at his side, arms crossing over his chest, gold gauntlet above a warm sleeve. “You will know me as Caster as well, however it’s hardly a preferred title.”

He knew he was pushing it with one of those suggestions, given the knight’s allegiances, but it was a matter of position--of superiority. The King of Heroes, the King of All, was still the one true King, set in stone long long ago. The change of scenery would not change this. “You look fairly comfortable here, or at the very least, less unsettled compared to other servants that have been summoned here. Is this a result of your nature, or perhaps something else?”

[first-hero-blog]

sarkalu‌:

Gilgamesh watched as his other self approached like he was seeing a ghost. Brows furrowed, he didn’t look precisely welcoming as the older king got near. 

For a moment, they exchanged looks. They didn’t need words to convey their feelings –understanding was easy when you were the same person. And Gilgamesh understood, just with a glance, that the other hated this situation as much as him. 

He clicked his tongue in annoyance. It was as if the strength to muster words had left him, and that was all he could give, all that this desolate place deserved from him.  

He took the coat the other offered him, almost yanking it out of his fingers not because he was unbearably cold but it felt like a start. To what, Gilgamesh was still not sure, but it was better than nothing.

“As if something like this could end me”, he said, full of disdain, but he put on the warm clothes anyway. His voice was a bit raspy, as if he hadn’t talked in many days. “This place is unworthy of us. No surprise it is run by a useless goddess”.

The Caster made a short noise of acknowledgement. He couldn’t agree more, but he had had some weeks to flush out the worst of his anger over the biting cold and mundane living he’d be thrown so carelessly into. Looking over his counterpart, he knew well it would take about the same amount of time--if not more--to reach his level of tolerance. 

Well, perhaps he cared for himself enough to help ease his journey. 

“Come, it’s best we return to the village.” A gloved hand met with the Archer’s shoulder in a reassuring grip, and he pulled him forward, turning to walk at his side. “There’s a warm place to receive a meal, and the beer is decent. Don’t get your hopes up for the wine, however. It’s truly pitiful.”

One might expect him to address this odd happenstance--two of the same man speaking to one another and walking side by side--but he let it speak on its own. They both knew that the nature of their existences called for such a possibility, though the Wise King had to wonder whether this other him, this younger, rasher King, had put much stock in the result that stood before him. Surely he had seen visions. Surely this was not the first time he was seeing this thinner body, adorned with amethyst in his golden hair, with an air about him that spoke to a difference kind of king. 

“There are many of us here. Heroic Spirits,” he told him, as they left a second trail of footprints next to the first. “There are some mages as well. Other than that, those from places I’m unsure of.”

[holycities]

@first-hero

there’s something about this man that reminds you of the desert king, in a way that sets your jaw and leaves you far more on edge than you’d like. they couldn’t look more different, but the blonde man has the same bearing, and if you close your eyes you can nearly hear that pharaoh’s voice ringing out across that burned-out wasteland–how inconvenient. how repulsive.

but still, but still, but still. a servant is a servant and you need as many allies as you can get. you find him in the crystal and take the next seat over and don’t order a drink–to dull your senses now would be beyond foolish. instead you lace your fingers on the bar to still the part of you that wants to drum them restlessly against the wood and fix your gaze ahead of you, ever stern.

(he glitters like sunlight. maybe you should invest in some gold.)

“should i assume you know me already, or are introductions in order?”

[first-hero-blog]

His eyes, pools of curled pages of history, of future happenings, of things far beyond, dipped in a familiar red, observed her the moment she entered his field of view. Not like prey saw predator, not like predator saw prey, but like a lion who watched another wander along the edge of his territory. Cautious. Edging on unwelcoming. 

“Lancer,” he speaks simply. Names were not to grace his lips so soon, of course. His tone is tell enough that he knows exactly who she is--or so he assumes from appearances. There is something off, he must admit. Something in the way she carries herself is not quite the King of Knights he had passed through bleak hallways again and again. They had never spoken much to begin with, however. He had never watched her all too closely.

“I assume I am as memorable.”

[first-hero-blog]

blue-hound‌:

It was almost as if he had recovered a sliver of her greatness. 

Those clothes of invaluable silk and the weight of gold adorning them. Even his voice seemed to have a different tone. More certain, more arrogant.

“You’re recognizing my skill, oh?” He stood before the table, the spear still resting on his shoulder in a careless stance. “That’s almost as good as any payment. King of Heroes.” It was a taunt but it was also a statement. 

Though his attention was immediately diverted to the delicious meals spread across the table. The roasted sweetness or venison, the smoked glory of salmon, each one looked better than the previous one. Picking the first to start with was the greatest challenge.

“You’re more generous than what it seems” Cú admitted careless of his words as he leaned the spear against the wall and then grabbed a chair.

“So this is the King’s banquet. I could totally get used to this stuff!” Without another word (or manners), he chose a large rib and hungrily bit into it. 

The King’s lips upturned with the smallest of laughs, a barely audible breath. His arms would come to rest upon the table, gold entwining with flesh as he brought his hands together. He watched the lancer through tired eyes, though they were no more tired than usual--subtle dark creases under those red jewels that he’d typically cover with makeup, but the tools were out of his reach. Too much was still out of his reach. 

“Jest or not, you will do well to appreciate my compliments and recognition. You have served me well, and I assume you would not continue to do so did I not offer some compensation. I am no fool.”

Gilgamesh sat still, never reaching for the foods he offered to his guard. He seemed content to simply be. Perhaps this was a form of rest for the weary King. 

“The goddess has made a mockery of my power as a reward for our journey, as you can see. Tell me, what has she offered you?”

[blue-hound-blog1]

@first-hero

So Bunkhouse 4, huh?

Cú stood outside the building as the first snow of the evening quietly started to fall.

Since when did he trust the infamous king of Uruk? A legendary tyrant who led his people to a prosperous civilization, the owner of every mythical weapon before they even existed.

It had been a terrible idea, but it had worked. His instinct had not been mistaken (it rarely was). And now it was time for payment as if his healing magic had not been enough. 

“ ’tch ” Cú tilted his head to the side and sighed a white mist. No regrets. 

Gáe Bolg rested on his shoulder, without it, he felt naked in that unpleasant, vulnerable way.

Whatever.

The door was open and the warm air welcomed him. 

“Oi, Caster! What’s with the summon at this time?”

[first-hero-blog]

The house was quiet. The middle of the day, while the sun was still out, was no time to be keeping indoors if one wanted to experience fresh air at all that day, and yet the King found himself perfectly content seated on a wooden chair, barely clothed legs crossed in red cloth between the warm walls of his temporary residence. He was positioned at the corner of one of the long dining tables in the combined kitchen-common room, another chair angled out in welcome. 

“Come, Lancer. You may sit in my company.” A gold gauntleted hand exposed its palm in motion, beckoning Cú to take that very seat. Indeed, the King was clothed in his proper outfit, all gold and colorful fabrics and exposed skin, looking more content than he ever was in those drab coats he was forced to wear otherwise. “It’s about time I give you some sort of reward for your service, I suppose. You have been vigilant.”

And there, with nothing but a thought and a raised hand for effect, did the legendary golden portals open. His reward, though offensively meager compared to his true power, coming to fruition before them. Two plates of food slid onto the table--one of a variety of fish, and the other slabs of boar ribs, with vegetables and seasonings to match. Prepared already, as though directly from the stove, their aromas filled the common room. 

“Ideally I could offer more, but this will have to suffice.”

[au-delete]

[first-hero-blog]

thefalsechild‌:

Sitting and listening, Kingu’s hand absentmindedly ran through Gil’s hair. He didn’t interrupt or ask any questions as the King spoke, only taking in Gil’s woes in silence. He wasn’t entirely sure what had happened; what had caused the prideful King to become so, so tired.

Once prompted, Kingu breathed a sigh, however not one of anger or irritation. He didn’t protest the hands running up his back. He only looked down at him, keeping his voice low and quiet as he spoke.

“You foolish King, speaking only in vague tongues.” The usual insult had a softer tone to it, a certain fondness that was rare to hear from him. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me exactly what caused this. So, tell me. What happened to you so that those memories were thrust upon you?”

Despite allowing Gil to rest in his lap, he eventually huffed, adjusting himself a little. Even if Gil was as tired as he claimed he was, falling asleep while knelt on the ground would be uncomfortable. 

“… Just come and sleep next to me,” He suggested, as quiet as possible. It was obvious that the suggestion embarrassed him, especially as he turned his head away as he spoke. Kingu could only act so different, supposedly. “You’ll hurt your knees and back falling asleep like that…”

That offer was taken with a smile. As low as he was, Kingu showing kindness easily made his heart flutter, made him feel that much lighter. Gilgamesh left a kiss on his knee before he got up, happy to move onto Kingu’s bed beside him. Funny, how his bed smelled...nice. But not clean linen nice, more like hand soaps, neutral scents. He didn’t comment on it. 

That gold chain was in his hand, and he worried it between his fingers, held it close to his chest as he relaxed into the sheets. His red eyes were downcast however, as Kingu laid down with him, his thoughts tracing the grooves on that pointed end just as the tips of his fingers. He knew...He knew Kingu’s feelings on Enkidu were complicated, but it was no use in avoiding their name, and Gilgamesh didn’t want to. It wasn’t right to. 

“I was shown visions....of Enkidu’s death. Several of them.” He sees Kingu’s long green hair as a backdrop to his unfocused gaze. It brings him further into those thoughts. “But I was also given the vision of them alive and well, smiling and fighting side by side like we used to. I tell myself I am at peace with their death, I am at peace with how we spent our lives together. But it still hurts me. It still makes me feel weak.”

His gaze lifts then, looking to Kingu’s face, those beautiful unique eyes of amethyst. One hand holds that chain and the other touches Kingu’s cheek, and he feels as though he’s embracing them both--his two friends. “I desire to be able to be at peace were you to pass as well. This life we’ve been granted together--I cannot foresee how long it might last. Please, allow me to be certain that we enjoy what we can of it.”

[au-delete]

[altairsoffice]

; trial reward form

muse name: Gilgamesh (Caster)

trial number: 1

trial task: The Fields of Theama call for you. In their crystal city of ice, the reflections of things familiar and unfamiliar will rise to greet you like an old friend. Venture inwards and listen to your soul. You must brave the maze and return with something from your own world. Reach into the looking glass, abandoning riches and temptations. What you pull out will be your own, and only your own.

link to trial thread: trial | one

item or power?: kind of an item that gives power…

requested item/power: The Key to the Vault, in order to access Gate of Babylon.

A unique key that can be used only by Gilgamesh. It allows him to access his treasury through the Gate of Babylon. Normally, Gilgamesh can summon all manner of legendary mythical weaponry and magical wands; however as this is his first trial, I will request that he be able to bring forth non-magical, non-weapon items. For example, he keeps fine wine, gold vessels, rich clothing, and delicious foods in his treasury. 

In this land of ice and snow and sorrow, you have prevailed.

It is one step. Take care to remember that the path you take has an ending beyond your vision.

Pray before the statue of Her Lady within Her holy abode and reminisce about what you desire. The glass shines.

You have regained access to the Gate of Babylon. It appears that you can only reach into it three times a day, and pull out food items native to The Great White with a total combined weight of 20 lbs… If you ever go hungry, perhaps this will be useful.

May Diaidem bless you.

[altairsoffice]

; mayor task completion form

muse name(s): Gilgamesh (Caster) & Kingu

task name: Hair Day Crisis

date submitted: 1/29

link to thread or drabble and/or word counts: thread link | Gilgamesh - 1431 | Kingu - 1306

You’re an absolute life saver!! Thanks so much, my hair can be tamed in peace now… At least it isn’t long as sin as it used to be. Trying to work through what I have with just my fingers has already been it’s own nightmare… ( ´ᆺ` ) 

Feel free to drop by the springs anytime! I’ll whip up something special for you. After all, I’ve learned from the very best! 

⇢ Alepolis! 

[first-hero-blog]

blue-hound‌:

The angry nails digging into his neck stirred old memories. Ah, the sweetness of spoils of war. Cú received the King’s infuriated glare with a wide and sloppy smile as if his hands were less than harmless or perhaps a gesture similar to a  sharp mating call.

“You’re taking this…a bit too far.” He commented with a faint blush.

The warm water surrounded him, blue hair floating weightlessly on the surface as he stared at the King above, exposed in all his glory.

“Really far.”

Those marks would be an unforgiving reminder of that impossibly beautiful demon. Everything in him was a sin, even those hands who had mocked his lost divinity like the most dangerous temptress. The anxiety and silence deepened with each heartbeat, mixing with tension and the bit of shame coloring his face.

“ ‘ᵗʷᵃˢ ᵃⁿ ᵃᶜᶜᶦᵈᵉⁿᵗ”

And it was as though his touch was hardly felt, as though his words had no meaning. Not before such a ravenous gaze, before the hunger that rose within the other man, heating the tips of the King’s fingers. Too quickly he felt like a bone under the desperate gaze of a drooling dog, and his sneer twisted with aggression. 

It was not as though he was unused to being regarded with desire--it was natural. But such disrespect, such unrefinement, would not do. Fingers curled around Cú’s jaw, forcing his head to tilt upwards as Gilgamesh closed in on him, bringing his face close enough to where nothing else was in view but those burning, serpentine eyes. 

“Savor this, but do not ogle me like food. Remember who it is you gaze upon.” Gilgamesh shoved the lancer’s face to the side, and then he was backing off. He stepped right out of the pool, his calm disturbed, his relaxation completely over, his irritation spiking to greater heights than before he had entered the springs. He gathered up his towel once it was in reach, quick to dry off before the cold bit him too harshly. 

[au-delete]

[first-hero-blog]

alrosary‌:

Dogma’s tea has long since gone cold. He’d come to the Crystal with the intent of warming up, sick of being curled up in bed at the bunkhouse where anyone who cared to look could see him moping under the blankets, but he’d gotten distracted along the way. There’s a napkin at his elbow, covered in scribblings, ideas for sermons he’ll have to wait a long time to give, and the fact that he’s so far from anywhere his authority as a priest actually matters is beginning to get on his nerves.

When the other man speaks, then, inflammatory as his line of questioning might be, the priest finds himself grateful for the company and a chance to get out of his own head.

“Hardly,” is his initial response, spooning sugar into his untouched mug and stirring it idly. “A few strangers worshiping some manner of sorceress as if she were divine isn’t exactly the kind of thing that makes one doubt their every belief. I should hope your convictions aren’t as shaky as you expect mine to be.”

A true believer in a one true god. Cute and naive. Though talk of such things tired him, the fact that this fool had no idea what kind of person he was speaking to was plenty amusing. Gilgamesh, in all of his divinity, descendant of the first known gods, being spoken to as though there could possibly be someone more divine than himself. 

“I am King. My convictions are shaken by none, else I would not be so. Certainly by no goddesses, try as they might.” And try they have. Shaken his entire world, they have. And yet he was the one who ended them. He would do it again here, should it come to that. “So you believe God has brought you here, I imagine. Not the oh-so-beloved Diaidem. And what purpose then, has he put you here for?”

[first-hero-blog]

loyaltybred‌:

          THERE’S  A  LOT  THAT  HE’S  had to adjust since his arrival in eidolon.  if there’s one thing he’s grateful to ─ it’s the protection his coat gives him from the cold.  everything else?  about as annoying as can get!  hige noticed right away that his sense of smell had greatly diminished.  he had hopes that  maybe  the new setting was the cause, and that he’d adjust over time…  but that theory has since been proven wrong, much to his dismay. 

that doesn’t stop hige from forgetting, though. 

hige trudges through the snow with a pout.  he’d been caught up in the moment when he spotted a deer ─ and oh, the thought of fresh deer meat had been far too good to pass up!  until he realized, far too late, that he couldn’t actually track his prey without his nose…  or scent his way back home. great. 

he isn’t even quite sure how far he’d ran.  great, now he’s lost  AND  hungry!  but he’s not wandering long before he hears the familiar rustling of someone else.  he’s filled with relief ─ maybe he’s not out of luck, after all. 

he hears the stranger before he sees him.  and…  said stranger does not sound very happy with his presence.  understandable, really.  hige might be confused if he found someone else out here, too!  he decides it’s best to show himself on two legs, for now. 

❝ er - sorry about that, man!  didn’t mean to scare ya’! ❞  he holds his hands out in an innocent gesture and soon after, offers a smile,  ❝ i got a little lost, is all!  new to the town, and all that… ❞  eyes flicker towards the gathering of items in the stranger’s possessions.  his head tips to the side.

❝ what’re you doing out here, anyway?  we gotta be pretty far, i’ve been running for ages… ❞

hopefully, the stranger won’t take note of the fresh paw prints following hige. 

His gaze sets in a glare, rubies in a gilded blade, as the young man approaches him. He looks him over once, twice, trying to deduce what he might have been out here for by what he was wearing or what he might be carrying, but he was more or less nondescript. He didn’t exactly buy the whole getting lost suggestion. 

“Working,” came the King’s short reply, holding himself tall before the other. He couldn’t help the shiver that ran through him however. He had been out here for too long, his hands felt stiff, he could barely feel his toes in his shoes. This weather agreed with him none. 

“Are you truly lost?” His tone demanded honesty, brows raising as he crossed his arms over his chest. He tucked his hands under his upper arms as best he could with his supplies in his grip, anything to feel a little warmer. “If you must, you may follow me back to the village, but I will require your name, and that you understand the privilege I offer you. You’ve happened upon a King, and you will do best to treat me properly as such.”