heavenly chain.

The men rejoiced: "Now Gilgamesh has met his match. This great'one, this hero whose beauty is like a god, they are a match even for Gilgamesh."

[gistukul]

avallcnis‌:

So! I’ve consolidated all of my muses onto a multimuse (except Merlin, he’s retaining his own blog). This is primarily because I just can’t cope with more than 3 blogs and I’ll be starting classes come October, so I’d like to have an easy way to knock things out whilst continuing to write the characters I love.

Said blog can be found here, so I guess you can consider this a shitty promo!

[truegoldenking]

“Gilgamesh was called a god and a man; Enkidu was an animal and a man. It is the story of their becoming human together.” ― Herbert Mason, The Epic of Gilgamesh

[anungal-a]

When rain came most would seek shelter from it, hiding away from life giving source as if the waters might harm them, might do anything other than merely dampen them. Once rain had been cause of celebration and indeed to they it is indulgence when they pause, finger's tightening against the ones entwined with their own. Hand clutching with ardent joy as face inclined upwards, catching droplets whilst smile encompassed in all their radiance. "I'm happy." They speak in soft melody. "Are you?"

       Water serves as a savior, as it always has and always will. Cool droplets leave their lingering touches against his skin, a reprieve Gilgamesh feels neither a tug toward or against; not like the one beside him, so attuned as they are to the flights and fancies of nature. He could attest to the blessings a sudden storm bestows to arid lands in its wake, however, and for this he finds agitation quelled in favor of appreciation.

        And within him blooms an admiration for its effects before him here, serpentine pupils finding fascination in the rivulets of water chasing paths down pale, clay-forged skin. He watches with subdued reverence as rainfall showers Enkidu’s upturned lips with kisses like an intimate lover, dampens verdant hair until it clings to their cheeks and accentuates the curve of their jaw. A hum stirs in his throat at such a sight, noncommittal at first as his own fingers card through his golden locks in an attempt to tame them. His other hand busies itself with the brush of thumb against Enkidu’s, a nonverbal contentment of the sovereign’s own.

       ❝ I am. ❞ Patience having been tested long enough, Gilgamesh dips his head to purloin the drops from Enkidu’s lips, then, brazen tongue darting to claim them like trophies in languid sweep. The greater trophy is the soft surface he finds in his perusal, the one whose lips he commits to memory better than anything else (save for the wilderness in their gaze, the fury and glee in their strikes). Is this answer enough? Perhaps so, but even as he pulls away as though this display is nothing but fleeting affection – a falsehood, they both know – he continues simply.

       ❝ I am because you are. ❞

[shihoran]

[gistukul]

chaldealast‌:

“Of course I think Uruk is beautiful. Cities from my era can’t compare at all.” Somehow, she feels like she shouldn’t dig her grave further… They’re moving forward, anyway, so she lets that thought trail off, and keeps to herself as they make their way back to the great city. 

Ritsuka follows, trotting behind them with a thoughtful gaze, taking in the path from the forest to the stone paths to the growing chatter, all at once foreign yet she can make sense of the meaning behind it (a benefit of Chaldea’s technology, she supposes, to hear unfamiliar languages but have the understanding behind them.) They come to the market, a place brimming with people in finery, the clink of coins exchanging hands, people bargaining the price of goods, the scent of spices and foodstuffs and perfumes and dyes in the air. 

These people– they are more beautiful than any art you’ll see here. …So that’s what they find beautiful about Uruk. Ritsuka leans against the wall of a nearby tavern, watching people filter past market stalls, whether pulling farm animals behind them, or holding children in their arms, or laughing at a shared joke between lovers. “You’re right. It was a silly thing to ask. Of course the people are the most beautiful thing about a city.” 

She folds her hands behind her back, and tries to read Enkidu’s expression, but like always, it’s a mystery… Well, there’s no use forcing it. She turns her head and watches a small bird pick dropped grains off the ground, as she tries to sort her thoughts. “…Being a part of Chaldea, it’s easy to feel isolated. I start to forget what I’m fighting for, and feel bitter. And then, I see a place like this, and people like this, living their lives and building a brighter future for their children, and… it fills me with hope again.” 

She chuckles and rubs the back of her neck. “Sorry, I ended up making you do something unnecessary. Still, thank you.” 

Ritsuka apologizes, though Enkidu does not understand why, not when there is gratification in the heart of all they are at opportunity to see the people they had once set themselves to protect at his behest. Besides, how Ritsuka chooses to use them is not there concern as much as it had never been with Gilgamesh-- though even in positive comparison it would be unfair to compare her to that man. It was unfair to compare any to him.

“Chaldea is heartless and cold, though it stands for something good. Uruk is as much a shield to these people as Chaldea is to yours, but to compare them would be foolish.” Modern man had become misguided they think, but that was their prerogative and Enkidu would do little but allow them that choice. Change was the way of humans, and not all change was good.

Sliding eyes from their people they brace hand to girl’s back, gently nudging her into motion. “Do not thank me.” Not when they were not done, treading familiar path toward ziggurat. “You wished to see art and treasure, did you not? Let me show you.”

[gistukul]

marsarrim‌:

         “…” so another parent? it had always been just gilgamesh and him, with the occasional exception of siduri looking after him too - but in the end it had been the king who had done the most to raise the boy. “then… this is fine, right?” wrapping his arms around enkidu, the young prince’s shoulders finally relax. “I’m home, then.”

They return embrace, a tight thing deceptive given their slight and almost delicate frame. When they draw him near it is a firm inescapable thing, sturdy as they cradle their son unto himself. “This is fine.” Gentle assurance not often given by the wildling given freely here, openly to Ur-nungal. “You have always been home, Dumukal.”

[gistukul]

marsarrim‌:

oh right. the other probably does not know. “I am from a singularity, I don’t reflect the life and past of the other ur-nungal… I was born after father returned from his quest.” cheeks quickly darken and red eyes avoid to look at the other “I…I could not… accept such an honor… that… would that even be alright?”

Ah, yes, the one where their heart had been duped by a serpent. How fortunate it was, immortality little more than a curse of unending loneliness. They are simply glad that he seemed to find happiness then, even if ever present grief digs. “No doubt! If you are the son of my dearest then you are a son to me.” 

[gistukul]

marsarrim‌:

“you… you are enkidu, right? father talked about you ! he told me the most amazing stories whenever he had time …” he does seem to be doing his best not to cry but smile “I… I always wanted to meet you…”

// @gistukul .

Confusion strikes them first at the lack of recognition from their son, hurt following to taint it softly. “You don’t know me?” They wonder how, though just as quickly accept it and ruffled child’s hair. “I am, and you are my son.”

[gistukul]

chaldealast‌:

Hm. What does she want to see? Ritsuka smiles to herself and quietly hums in thought, before deciding, “Will you show me the beautiful side of Uruk?” There have to be things they like about Uruk enough to call it beautiful, even if their perspective differs from hers. She’d love to see the city through different eyes, for once. “Things that make even you stop in wonder.“

The beautiful side? Indigence finds home in chest though serenity does not slip from them, verdant eyes regarding Master. “Do you mean to say you do not find all of Uruk beautiful? To me it is more so than any other city.” Perhaps not as much as as the surrounding forests for nature held more beauty than any sprawling urbanization, but that was not a debate for now.

“Alright.” They concede at last, ushering Master off with familiar tread of feet, smell of home resonating until they came upon throng of market. Native tongue spoken loudly, lives being lived in daily grind. “This then. These people-- they are more beautiful than any art you’ll see here.”

These, the people Gilgamesh had urged them to protect.

[gistukul]

chaldealast‌:

@gistukul.

“Lancer, you always seem so serene, but you’ve got that wild side too, huh?” Somehow they look… at home, caked in blood like that. Well, she shouldn’t worry. “Thank you for your work today! We’ve got the materials we need, so we can head home.” Ritsuka adjusts the scarf around her neck, grinning underneath. As the rest of her Servants filter past her and mingle, she walks next to Enkidu, rubbing the numbness out of her fingertips. “Before we leave, I was thinking about exploring the town a bit, especially around the ziggurat… You know your way around, right? Would you escort me?” 

Gore clung to them, painting white robes a bloody picture as bare toes curled into heated earth, quiet exhilaration lingering in them as Master spoke. “A wild side? Nature is my home, Master. It only seems fitting.” But that is not what she meant and they know, watching as she adjusts herself and falls into step beside god crafted weapon. “I can, yes. What would you like to see? This place has a great many pleasures.”

[gistukul]

A cascade of kisses traces the familiar curvature of jawline, laying a claim that is only his, and rightfully so. Affections born and given freely, just as freely as lips could turn to blades. For now, Gilgamesh lets satisfaction resonate as a deep hum, teeth finding and sinking into the flesh of Enkidu's earlobe before pinching the skin just below it. "You were missed," comes quiet confession as lips sink to neck, open-mouthed with every stroke of tongue spelling reverence for Enkidu only.

[gistukul]

They are as they were always meant to be- together. When they concede to him for once it is a soft thing, gentle acquiescence in place of often found challenge for they felt this was what he and they needed above all else. There were times where the push and pull was thrilling, where their clashes were testament to love, yet there were also quieter times and in those moments hearts found a tender rhythm in unison.

How long such would last though… well, that was the question of ages.

Gilgamesh chases prayers into mimic flesh, hitch of breath as they curl fingers into hair and grip tight though they let him roam mouth where he wishes. Allow him to take and give as he pleases, for whilst it is no right for divine creature it is Enkidu’s gift to he and he alone. That they relent into his desire, that for now they do not challenge, that is their boon to he the guardian of humanity.

Until words are offered to bare throat, face twisting in old grief to equally old wounds. They were missed and Gilgamesh had been alone– these were facts and no truer would there ever be, ire running deep to vindictive harpy that had caused as much. Misery rears head as tongue attempts to chase peace into them, grip in hair tightening and pulling so that they might be free of such advances. So they might offer own words upon ghosted breath, dragging him close in clash of lips which has too much bite for all they relent hold upon golden locks.

“I’m sorry.” It is not their fault they know even as they breath words into him, as they chase his tongue with own in vicious dance as eyes dampen and chest stutters in what they think is grief. Violent waves of emotion are hard thing for clay to bear truly, and yet as soft noise escapes them as teeth catch Gilgamesh’s lip in sharp relief they know it well. Core of their being aches, frenzy of loss and simultaneous anger. They think it is a miracle that they find form as Lancer, that they had not been dragged forth as something worse. The gods would deserve that fury though.

But their fury was not for him, would never be for him as they broke kiss to press forehead to his and find brilliant ruby with muted silver. “I’m sorry,” they breath again words wet about edges as knee presses to hip, as they heave and roll them until they might straddle him verdant hair draping. It is not their fault they know, and yet they ache for his sadness, for his loneliness. They yearn to sooth the hurts to his heart their absence has caused, for they are so very late and he has suffered insurmountably.

“Ki murangen.” They press their own reverence to crown of his head as they sit astride him. “Bēlī.”

[gistukul]

"anta." the boy rolls on his back to look up at his parent "are you sure you are made of clay? perhaps you are a palm tree!"

What on earth--? “I’m certain.” Delicate fingers pinch cheeks of babe, tugging them gently in careful reprimand. “Who put such silly ideas in your head?”

[gistukul]

"anta. anta come here." he waves at the other, his eyes bright with excitement. once the other is closer, the king steps to the side to reveal a teenage boy. his hair is a bit darker & his eyes seem more brown than red but the similarity is still there. "may I introduce you to my son? udul-kalama." the boy shyly peeks from behind his father's back but then he steps towards the other, smiling. "father told me many stories about you, I am glad I have the chance of meeting you."

They do not think to question their son’s exuberance because, to them, that is what they had always known when man had been boy– when King had been bumbling babe. They do not question, but there is still curiosity in golden eyes as they regard him with a fond curiosity. What they find is unexpected, though they’d certainly known in theory.

Not for the first time something hurtful (and perhaps even hateful, though not to Ur-nungal) lodges in their chest, a disquiet sadness that doesn’t quite make it to their face so long as one does not look too closely at those eyes of theirs. This, they know, is the life that had been stolen from them in cruelty of all cruelties. What it means to be confronted with it now they do not entirely know for conflict runs deep within them; deep into tender places where they do not know if grief or joy reside. Perhaps it is both.

Carefully they orchestrate smile upon their delicate features, reaching without preamble or permission to take the boy by his cheeks and hold him snug. Gentle for all the strength that rests within them, deceptively so.

The child is familiar yet different, vestiges of divinity clinging on yet watered down and obviously so. Another generation and it must have been gone entirely, but they supposed that was only right. Gods had no place in the lands of man.

“Hello,” they say at last, lost for words in a way they are not usually. Actions mean more to they who had lived in instinct for so long, words now known no doubt but even so finding the right ones could be so very difficult. Instead they do not try, pressing forehead to the younger’s in careful affection given freely to he who is also their family– a family they had never known.

[gistukul]

marsarrim‌:

           “…heh. so there is no escaping the grounding?” well then he might as well just try to escape it in less kingly manners. lifting enkidu up into a hug, he uses the motion to then quickly place the claydoll onto a near wardrobe and simply… running for it. “sorry anta, I just don’t feel like getting grounded !”

As much as they love this family (their family) they do, in equal measure, find themselves infinitely frustrated by it at times. Such as this. Of course it is no effort in jumping back down and for all they do not follow their demon child there is no doubt that he is most certainly grounded.

[gistukul]

marsarrim‌:

          “well I must do something to be forgiven.” he laughs and lets them hold his cheeks, his expression youthful and full of joy just like it had been when he had been little. “that is impossible - because you love me a whole lot and you are the best anta in the world.” and he is too old to be grounded, but he’d rather not try and remind enkidu of that.

“I will still ground you.” And truly when had telling Enkidu they could not do something ever stopped them doing exactly that? It was a losing battle.

[gistukul]

enferne‌:

     “Oh, are you saying that wolf greater than Him? My ideals are what He decreed, and all I do is carry out His mission; so far I have lived despite humanity’s best efforts to annihilate me — and please, do not lump me with that corrupted plague on Earth.”

“You should direct me to this god of yours and I will rip his throat out. Gods have no place in the lands of man any longer, not when they create hapless creatures who consider humanity a plague.”

[gistukul]

marsarrim‌:

he quickly leans down to press a kiss to their cheek. “as if he would notice me pouting, come now, I already apologized ! what shall I do to earn your forgiveness?”

“Children do not earn the forgiveness of their parents, dearest.” They do not allow his retreat after his gesture, holding cheeks and settling grey-blue upon scarlet. “Though if you persist in such churlish behavior I shall, as they say these days, ground you.”