possibly headed somewhere soon? or maybe not idk

[babbylon]

I am neither childish, nor do I babble. Your clever attempts at wordplay fail to amuse, mongrel.

[...Saber's practically a saint for dealing with you, Gil. You're lucky she didn't cleave your head off while she was smiting metaphysical evil.]

Was she, though? The lonely king dying upon the lonely hill... [Grinning like a creeper, yep.] 'tis a shame I couldn't have partaken in such an agonizing view for myself. Alas, only the whims of ants might entertain me now.

[So you wait.]

Indeed. So I wait.

Comments

[hiddeninfidelity]

Do you have something against my father, you gaudy miscreant?

[babbylon]

[Gilgamesh just cants his head and feigns ignorance.]

Has someone addressed me? I hear nothing, save the mindless blather of a harlot.

[hiddeninfidelity]

Harlot?! Do you know to whom you speak? I am the heir to the throne of Camelot and only heir of the King of Knights!

I know not who you are, but from the look of your guise you cannot have much intellect nor wisdom, you have no right to insult my father as you have.

[babbylon]

You've all of her pride and obstinacy, yet none of her poise and grace.

[He makes a shoo sort of gesture. Rude!]

You are correct, in that I do not know you, as I do not recognize you as anyone worthy of note.

[hiddeninfidelity]

I am going nowhere, knave. Not until you apologize for your transgressions.

[Mordred may have been much like a tiny, yappy, dog when angry, but she would never back down from an insult to her honor as a knight.]

Then let me enlighten you. I am Mordred, the people seem to know me as the knight of treachery and slayer of kings. Who you are, on the other hand, is of no import.

[babbylon]

I am her future husband, and king of kings, Gilgamesh.

[...well, that settles that. He sounds pretty confident for a knave, grinning.]

Unless you'd prefer to offer yourself to me first? The resemblance is quite strong, I must confess, though it would dirty my hands to bathe them so brazenly in muck.

[hiddeninfidelity]

My father would lie with no man, let alone one as suspect as you, so-called king.

[She was still under the delusion that Arturia was a man, it was only way she could ever see her father.]

And the same goes for myself as well. You are the worst kind of trash, to insult not only my father but myself as well. I do hope your soul rots in the deepest realms of hell.

[babbylon]

[Did she really not know...? He can't say he's too surprised, but by the same token, it's a little disappointing she's been made to believe in such a pathetic lie. Though this too could prove entertaining in its own way.

Alas, fair Mordred, if only you encountered a Servant with any shreds of decency or chivalry at all.]

You speak as though you might be the brave soul to put there, morsel. Or the miserable fool to try. [Don't mind him trotting a bit closer. Or a lot closer.] Did your "father" ever tell you how he died? Of all the suffering he endured, for the sake of his people? It's quite a charming story...

[hiddeninfidelity]

Of course I know how father died, for I killed him myself! Even though I too was struck down during the ordeal, it was an end befitting someone who had gone astray as he had.

[Mordred stepped back a bit, she did not like having the King of Heroes this close to her personal space.]

There was nothing remotely noble about his death. And any tale he told to the contrary was a delusion at best and an out right lie at worst.

[babbylon]

[Tutting, pausing just a few feet away.]

It's a tragic way to meet one's end, that sort of self-flagellation. They say the king despaired so greatly over the loss, her cries could be heard across the world. How unfortunate they were not heard within my own bedchamber, instead.

[The twisted look on his face suggests he plans on remedying that in the near future. As for right now...]

You will never measure up to her brilliance, her beautiful despair. Not ever. Of this you may be certain, mongrel.

[hiddeninfidelity]

You call yourself a king?! No true king would speak in such a tactless manner. You are nothing more then a stray dog wearing the mantle of a ruler. My father may have been a foolish man who denied my rightful claim to the throne and who brought ruin to his people, but even he does not deserve such shameful words leveled against him!

[Mordred was angry, far angrier then she had been since her own death. To insult her was one thing, but to suffer her father with such language, that would simply not stand.

She may have hated him, but that did not mean she would stand by as others, those who had not earned the right to disparage him, spoke in such a manner. Her left hand reached for the bloody sword Clarent she kept upon her hip in a show of defiance.]

And yet you have the nerve to call me a mongrel, King of Kings. If you intend to keep this up, then draw your blade and we shall do battle. I will not stand for your treatment of my father!

[babbylon]

[She's feisty, all right. He has no doubts she'd fight as wildly and as boldly as her mother... though perhaps that's also why she'd lose in the exact same way. The rebellious seed was strong in the Arturian bloodline, apparently, as was the need to combat dishonor wherever it reared its head.

Gilgamesh, in contrast to her temper bordering on violence, remains calm, even as he speaks filthy words and makes filthy claims.]

I will spread your beloved and beloathed father across my sheets and do battle in my own way. [And that's that. He waves everything else aside.] This realm is ill-suited to that purpose. Sheath your sword before I push you upon it, as well, for your impudence.

[hiddeninfidelity]

Hmph, I have to grand of a destiny to die this day.

[Mordred loosened her grip upon her sword and instead shot a venomous stare at Gilgamesh in its stead. He would know her anger even if it was not at the end of her sword.]

What is your connection to my father? I cannot imagine he would willingly associate with someone like yourself.

[babbylon]

[Oh, he knows it. Knows it as well as Saber's anger, having faced it many times before, and can still feel it now, surging through the air. He'll just wait for it to pass and savor it while it lingers, as always.]

She danced for me, on the stage of the Holy Grail War. You were absent, deemed unfit for summons. [But at least he acknowledged her as a fellow Spirit. Sort of.] And she fell yet again, most wondrously, most entrancingly, before the heels of cruel fate.