[At home, huh? There was so much deception from their own War, so much unchecked and unbridled disaster, that Gilgamesh often forgets that sometimes Servants are indeed capable of saying what they mean and meaning what they say. His imagination wanders back to Uruk, to the idea of a foreign face beside his throne, with golden eyes and dark hair and the only words from his lips ever being as you wish, my King.
Yes, there's purpose in their companionship. It won't replace what he's lost but it fills some other void, just a little. The pain from the bite fades. His heart calms. Diarmuid succeeds, as always, in providing that stability he so relies upon to stay functional.]
Idiot.
[No answer for now, so a surprise it shall be. Gilgamesh reaches up to a few dangling strands of hair, running fingers through and skirting his cheek with his thumb.]
It's getting longer... you should braid it, like mine. As a symbol of your devotion to me.
[Despite his grousing, Gilgamesh doesn't much care who sees, either. He's nudging their faces together like a pet eager for attention.]
no subject
Yes, there's purpose in their companionship. It won't replace what he's lost but it fills some other void, just a little. The pain from the bite fades. His heart calms. Diarmuid succeeds, as always, in providing that stability he so relies upon to stay functional.]
Idiot.
[No answer for now, so a surprise it shall be. Gilgamesh reaches up to a few dangling strands of hair, running fingers through and skirting his cheek with his thumb.]
It's getting longer... you should braid it, like mine. As a symbol of your devotion to me.
[Despite his grousing, Gilgamesh doesn't much care who sees, either. He's nudging their faces together like a pet eager for attention.]