TEST DRIVE MEME #7

[fairyfoes]

TEST DRIVE MEME

Considering apping to EACHDRAIDH? Why not give the setting a test run here! OPTIONAL SCENARIOS 01. ARRIVING IN THE DRABWURLD. The Seelie and Unseelie courts welcome you not with mirthful revelry, this time around dear friends. There is a seriousness in the air, though the food is still hearty and the imps still mischievous. After you have been briefed on your purpose here, you will find an endless feast and a night filled with entertainment to placate your concerns. Mingle with new arrivals, sneak down the castle halls and make sure your eyes are always on your glass; fairies and imps have no bias when it comes to tricks! 02. THE STATION. Looking for a little slice of home? The Station gives you all that and more. Take advantage of the wifi, have a cup of fairy-brewed coffee (the one they didn't spit in) or sit back and relax on the patio. You can even move your things into one of the available rooms! 03. WILDCARD. Your own scenario! Explore the Drabwurld or simply take advantage of your Locket! Be mindful, though -- the monarchs are watching and cross court communication should be done with the utmost secrecy.

Comments

[rougher]

[it is a feeling new to him, this nostalgia that washes over Enkidu, dulling his senses until the only thing he can focus on is the two of them, together again. his heart still hammers in his chest, nearly breathless as he speaks now, radiant from the happiness that blooms throughout his entire body.

for he could he be anything but happy, here, with this ridiculous man he was built to complete, to balance in every way. he kicks his legs again, both eager to be let down and eager to stay in his hold, his energy brimming now with both anxious sadness and nervous hope.]

A battle? Who are you battling, in this place?

[babbylon]

Oh, only everyone.

[And though he's half-jesting, he's also half-telling the truth. He fights the Unseelie; he fights the Seelie. He fights the world; he fights himself. He fights everyone he can for everything he can, to reclaim the crown so rightfully his. He fights because he must and he fights because he wants to. Gilgamesh will always fight, and has since the moment of his birth.

Gilgamesh nudges the door to his room open with the brunt of his shoulder—regal chambers well-suited to him, draped in red and gold and scented strongly with wine and women—and just falls onto the great bed with Enkidu in tow. He loosens his braid and lets golden hair scatter about them both, wraps arms around him and draws him close, nose-to-nose. They will lay like this for hours and it will still not be enough. An eternity is not enough to make up for what has been lost.

He'll give a better answer, in the privacy of this shared space, on a whisper meant only for Enkidu's ears.]

There's war waging. A war we are to fight in. For glory, for victory, for the end of the world itself. And it shall be another grand adventure.

[rougher]

[a bright, almost shocked laughter escapes his throat as they fall down on Gilgamesh's bed; the position familiar in more ways than one. he happily stretches out on top of the larger man, momentarily distracted by his movements and-- his hair, how had he not noticed his hair? it's so much longer now, almost as long as his own, though he has a few more feet to go to truly match Enkidu's.

he reaches out to stroke it, fascinated in an almost childish way, feeling and seeing something completely foreign on a person he knows so well. despite this one thread of unfamiliarity, everything else about him is completely and utterly relaxed. he wiggles happily on Gilgamesh's chest, resting his delicate chin on the king's collar bone as he threads his fingers gently through the golden strands, releasing a deep sigh of contentment as he takes in the sound of his friend's voice.]

A great battle, by the sound of it. Have you found any foes to match you here, King of Uruk?

[of course Gilgamesh has been fighting; it is his way. their way. they are no strangers to the war path, and if it the one that has been chosen for them, Enkidu will gladly follow his friend for wherever it might take them.]

[babbylon]

[Gilgamesh nudges at him with free and open affection. His fingers find their way into Enkidu's hair, too, stroke along in familiar paths and seek out all the secret spots on his scalp that make him croon. There's warm hands on his cheek and massaging his shoulders, too, touching everywhere they can, memorize everything can all over again. Who knows when Enkidu might disappear next?

Surely soon, the voice of doubt lingers in his ears. Surely dead.

He sobers a little at the question, looks up—or rather down, and while most he would answer with hesitation, to Enkidu he can only ever tell the truth. So he tells him, in a dire sort of tone that indicates indeed, the King has fought... and the King has also lost, terribly so, in his time here.]

I have. A fellow King, fallen from grace, who bears the class Saber and the name Arturia Pendragon. You must pity her, Enkidu, and yet show her no mercy at all, for she has been cursed by the Grail to walk as a shadow of her former self.

[Definitively, as he'd give any other order:]

She must die. She must be set free from this curse. It is our sworn duty to release her, as keepers of the balance.

[rougher]

[though he squirms and chirps happily under Gilgamesh's hands, like a beast easily tamed by its masters touch, he sobers considerably when he hears his friends answer. for all manner of replies he might have expected, certainly nothing as alarming or dire as what Gilgamesh says had initially crossed his mind.

his mouth settles into a small frown, pausing for a moment before he speaks in answer, his fingers curling delicately in gold hair.]

Tainted? How has she been tainted?

[and by the Grail, no less? such a thing seems impossible, and if it were anyone else telling him such a thing, he would likely balk. but Gilgamesh does not lie; he was always too proud for it, and there was never anything but truths between the two of them.]

[babbylon]

Indeed. It was a lie, my friend, our Holy Grail. It was a lie all along.

[Which he suspected from the moment he was summoned into his own world, but couldn't entirely confirm due to circumstances. Now, however... now, it all makes a great deal of sense, why things went awry as they did. Why Waver and Rin spoke of a future where he bathed in the Grail's slime and went mad because of it.

Only an artifact of great power, and thus great evil, could achieve such miracles. He wouldn't be surprised if ultimately this same cursed Grail was behind Enkidu's appearance here, if it hadn't drawn all the Masters and Servants together for further entertainment.

How ironic, to believe himself puppetmaster and yet dance on another's strings the whole time. He'd laugh if the joke weren't on him.]

The Grail was tainted by a foul presence, and Arturia found herself drowning in it. I know little else; only that it destroyed any future she may have had as the noble King of Knights, and replaced her with a terrible shadow.

[Gilgamesh reaches for Enkidu's hand and squeezes. Asks him earnestly, as he will no one else.]

I once acted in tyranny and selfishness, and of these things you came to be. But let us be heroes now. Should you stay, let us fight together in freeing this woman. I ask it of you and only you, trust you and only you with this task. Free Saber. Free Arturia. And undo the curse.

[rougher]

[he listens, ever attentive as Gilgamesh speaks. it is a strange story he's told, to be sure, but he solemnly accepts it as fact, for such is the worth he puts in his friend's word. and it is not so hard to believe, for Enkidu, born in the age of ancient magic and gods and monsters.

still, more than anything, it saddens him to hear this. he who knows this man better than any other can tell he had felt something deep for this fallen king, that he still does. it pains Enkidu as it pains Gilgamesh, for any pain his friend has is his burden as well.

again he must think; what has he had to shoulder alone, in this place? how has he been hurt in ways I do not yet know.

still, his answer is clear, pressing a gentle kiss to his hand as he speaks.]

Your battle is mine, Gilgamesh, so shall your mission be. Has it not always been so?

[babbylon]

[It had seemed all the stranger when he heard it himself. Part of him still refuses to believe it, that Saber would lose herself to the Grail and him shortly thereafter; that he would give fully into the madness that gripped at his heart since the day Enkidu fell. Admittedly, he feels he might surrender now, feels he might sink into the sheets at the futile thought this could ever last.

But there are many other parts, prideful ones, that refuse to lend themselves to embarrassment before his friend. He remains stalwart in the face of a terrible truth. He mirrors Enkidu's gesture, a gentle kiss to his hand, to remind him always of a truth much stronger: we are equals, you and I. Enkidu owes him no more fealty than what he owes in return.]

I thank you. With all that I am, I...

[Tears well in his eyes again. Not for Arturia, damn that woman, but for those words, your battle is mine. He's heard them before from others, but never has he been so happy to hear them now.]

I will not let the gods consume you anew. With all that I am, Enkidu, I shall shield you from the world. We face it together. We are strong together.

[rougher]

Of that I have no doubt.

[to see Gilgamesh moved to tears twice in one meeting is unheard of, and the sight of it pains Enkidu's heart more than he can possibly describe. it would be untrue to say that he believes it an easy task to stand against gods, and that there is no doubt in his mind if such a thing were even possible. but he knows when Gilgamesh says this he means every word, however impossible it may be. how can he deny him?

he smiles, wane but present, moving his free hand up to gently stroke the crown of his friend's head, a motion to sooth.]

Come, now; tears do not suit you. What would your subjects say if they saw you in such state?

[most would be shocked that the golden king was capable such grief at all, if he had to guess. it's alien even to him, his one equal ... save for those last few, retched days, that he prefers not to think of.]

[babbylon]

They'd be too busy laughing to say much of anything, by my measure.

[But Enkidu's right. He wipes at his own eyes and tries to look brave, tries to look tough, like a child putting on airs to please his parents. He was meant to be so much stronger, so much wiser, yet in all areas Enkidu seems very much to usurp him—almost unfair, considering the circumstances, though he can't find it in himself to fluster too much over it.

He just sags against him, curls into his body and lets himself be so soothed. As anyone who knew Gilgamesh understood that for all his years, he really was no better than a child at heart, in constant need of company and reassurance and those words that sustain him, yes, you were a good King.

Even if they are not true.]

Lie with me for a while and say no more. I will love you, and be loved in turn. We will pursue that path, make good on this promise, and this Drabwurld will be better off for it. I so swear.

[Sleepily, he adds:]

I'm going to be a hero, you know? A real one. And everyone... and everyone will love me, too. Just wait. You'll see.