The snow was not welcoming. Not that Gilgamesh was not familiar with snow. He had seen it many times during his life, and in those ten years in Fuyuki it had been a regular sight, painting the city white every winter. However it had never been something common in his great Uruk, and therefore, even after all that, it remained forever unfamiliar in the king’s heart.
And now, all he saw was snow and ice.
Gilgamesh despised it as much as he despised anything else about this place. He had been torn, stripped down of everything, all of his treasures and abilities, left by some unknown power to froze in that unknown wasteland with the empty promise of a wish.
What nonsense. No wish could be worth a price so high. Only Ea remained by his side as he woke up inside one of those buildings, as empty as he was. To see the Sword of Rupture that way was like looking at his own beaten self in a mirror. He felt so outraged he thought he would go mad.
He had not thought it clearly when he stomped away from the bunkhouse like an enraged bull, too small and crowded for him to stand it. The town was equally dull; Gilgamesh could not be charmed by its quaint appearance and its people. Both Eidolon and its inhabitants would have spoken without words to him, a glance enough to understand the lives that shaped that place.
But the world was silent around him except the sound of his feet sinking in the snow as he tried to get away from it all. From Eidolon and the wish he never asked for –but one that was undoubtedly in his heart or he would have never come to this place. Perhaps going away from civilization in a place that he didn’t knew –that he couldn’t know– was not the smartest thing to do, but he was full of rage and nothing else. With his cold fingers tightly closed around Ea, he ventured ahead, challenging the harsh environment with blatant stubbornness and pride, leaving the buildings far behind.
He would not bow to Eidolon. He would not bow to anyone else.
@first-hero
