[ There is little difference that spans between here and Fuyuki; the buildings may scrape higher, but the stench of decay and the stagnation of ages still weighs against Gilgamesh’s judgment like an unsightly sore. It still provides nothing of merit, that he might so far judge, and the pamphlet that had been thrust into his palm provides little more than a list of responsibilities he had no grave interest in attending to. His concerns were hardly a feature in the demands of another summoner, and the fainter pangs of an undignified nausea inspired further his decided lack of favor toward them.
As it had gone, they had disrupted something far more important.
There is an irritation that burns away at him, and it meets no immediate slaking. There had been answers and means to transform, but each insight and each potentiality had been ripped from his fingers. It had been discarded the moment that Gilgamesh had been taken – no, demanded here, and his mind turns first to deserved recompense for these actions, and further still toward the possibility of their replacements. Whether they be Gods or Man, he would strip from them his deserved effects, his given exchange. But, first –
If there is one vice Gilgamesh went to in reflex, it was wine. And so wine he has come to obtain somewhere in the sprawl of a city, in the nearest store he could stand to allow the grace of his presence to begin with. So, while considering his options, whether it is the oppressive manner of his attitude, or the appearance he casts despite the finery of his clothing that causes such a wide breadth in the aisle (and those surrounding) - it becomes difficult to say. Either way, it is a certainty that despite all of it, there is no escaping the lingering scent of fire or the thin cast of ash that remains. ]
gilgamesh (archer) | fate/zero
As it had gone, they had disrupted something far more important.
There is an irritation that burns away at him, and it meets no immediate slaking. There had been answers and means to transform, but each insight and each potentiality had been ripped from his fingers. It had been discarded the moment that Gilgamesh had been taken – no, demanded here, and his mind turns first to deserved recompense for these actions, and further still toward the possibility of their replacements. Whether they be Gods or Man, he would strip from them his deserved effects, his given exchange. But, first –
If there is one vice Gilgamesh went to in reflex, it was wine. And so wine he has come to obtain somewhere in the sprawl of a city, in the nearest store he could stand to allow the grace of his presence to begin with. So, while considering his options, whether it is the oppressive manner of his attitude, or the appearance he casts despite the finery of his clothing that causes such a wide breadth in the aisle (and those surrounding) - it becomes difficult to say. Either way, it is a certainty that despite all of it, there is no escaping the lingering scent of fire or the thin cast of ash that remains. ]