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

[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.