The shapes of the circle shifted behind him. Something, someone, the smug voice was an unpleasant shrill crashing against his ears like a cold tide.
“Archer,” Cú hissed, a snarl visible in his now bared canines. That Gilgamesh was like a large yellow cat sitting idly on the fence, mocking him. He glared at the golden king, but his hate now had another owner.
“Only a bastard like you would use a child like a shield”.
And then his eyes returned to Kirei. Heavy silent heartbeats where the tension sizzled in the air. The anxiety of the villagers as they stared agape for the horrible and heroic finale.
“If you’re a man, start behaving like one.”
Gaé Bolg’s end clinked against the cobblestone, just as if it had been by order of a Command Spell. “You win this time, Kotomine.”
Lancer’s usually bright gaze had darkened, the villagers confused by that one foreigner who worked all over the village, earning coins for tasks everyone preferred to avoid.
The spear was twirled and then clinked against the metal ornament of the furs on his shoulder. Lancer turned back and slowly started to retreat. He merely glared over his shoulder, that feral red eye, the thin line of his pupil contracted with the fury he could not express before the villagers.
“This ain’t over.” I’ll have your sick, filthy heart.
Lancer turned his head again, rattail whipping behind him.
He was heading towards Gilgamesh’s direction.
Gilgamesh chuckled slightly when Lancer acknowledged him, but did not respond with the same attention. He was not there for him, after all.
There was one thing that Gilgamesh had realized before: no matter how many years passed, he never tired of watching Kotomine Kirei in his search for that answer that evaded him. The seed the King had watered so long ago had bloomed into something twisted and beautiful.
With great mastery, the priest easily deceived them all. How he turned the great hero Cu Chulainn into no more than a violent and unstable man in the eyes of the townsfolk. It was clear that Kirei was enjoying himself. Gilgamesh could see it in the glimmer in his eyes, one that probably Kirei himself wasn’t aware of.
Amusement lit the King’s gaze as he watched like any other witnesser how Lancer got more and more cornered, without any desire to get involver further. It was more interesting to let thing evolve their own way, after all. However, that seemed to become impossible once the Celt warrior turned towards him.
Gilgamesh said nothing, but his eyes narrowed, just slightly. Chin held high, he did not display any hostility despite the sword in his hand, but was also ready to answer any attack that might come his way. He almost expected it, with an itching at his fingertips.
The smile plastered on his face turned more sly, twisted, like a snake about to bite the neck of the hound.
Victory was sweet, especially one with so many delectable rewards. The pieces settled into place, the start of this game already well in Kirei’s favor. The priest didn’t look at all smug--he made sure not to--instead retaining his mask of desperation, or concern, as he turned and guided the child behind him towards a woman who parted herself from the crown to approach--the mother no doubt.
“She has courage,” he commented, as the mother took the girl in her arms. She fussed over her, noting the blood staining her clothing, none of it her own. “May God bless her, and rest assured she is unharmed.”
He couldn’t say the same about himself, but the cuts were nothing compared to the gash along his right arm. It was deep, and the bleeding had only been agitated by the fight, though it was hardly the most lethal wound Kirei had bared. He should be in pain, and he was, but it was hard to focus on anything but those eyes upon him--those deep pools of bloodied wine that he was oh so familiar with. It had been 14 years since the last he’d felt them settle upon his form, and yet it felt like no time at all.
In a brief moment, he met them. His deadened gaze flickered with a light like a flame in that meeting. A spark of promise, of a new chapter in an old partnership.
But then it was Cú who drew that gaze away, and Kirei could focus on little more than that sword in the Archer’s hand. It surprised him, to see it so blatantly in the open. Even he had been privileged to see only mere glances of the legendary weapon, and yet Gilgamesh held it proudly now--or perhaps he had no other choice. That thought nearly brought an amused smile to Kirei’s face, as he wrapped his tattered sleeve around his wounded arm as best he could.
