[ Wow Gilgamesh always has a problem with something... this better not be gross. Anyway, he's quiet and will listen, idly petting his carrier that has shifted to curl up closer to him now that he isn't practically strangling it in a hug. ]
Useless. Girnun was worse than useless. Blind in both eyes, a liability in battle and in bed alike, as he would bumble into everything precious and cause chaos everywhere else. I set him loose more than once, but he'd always wander back to my doorstep, loyal as ever. He was not endearing in the slightest, that big buffoon.
[Though Gilgamesh's tone turns lighter and seems to hint at otherwise. Had Masamune been present in person, he would've seen his brow twitch a little and a distant gaze give his true feelings away. Like this, however, suspense largely reigns.]
One evening, Girnun did not come home. "Good riddance," I said; but I sent a search party for him regardless. They returned with his corpse the next morning.
[ Not endearing...? Masamune considers it immediately thinking of this lion blind and left alone making its way back its master. He found it so hard losing half his own vision, but...
That lion never asked to be blind and useless, which makes Masamune feel an unwanted empathy for a beast he has never even seen in passing—a creature this man has nothing positive to say about. ]
When I saw the body, I knew something was wrong. There was a puncture wound on his neck, consistent with the giant scorpions of the area, and venom leaking from open wounds. Based on where he had been found, we determined he had died defending a break in the wall from these overnight invaders.
[There is no love in how he speaks. Instead, there is slight awe, as if he still could not believe what had transpired five thousand years later.]
Word spreads very quickly in a place such as Uruk. By noon, the children had gathered in the square, weeping; the women beside them, the men downtrodden. Against my own judgment, I had overlooked something: that beneath my nose, beyond my notice, this lion had been beloved by my people as a great protector.
Enkidu urged me to set matters right, and so I did. Great Girnun's flesh fed the soil, and nourished our crops. His bones were made into weapons, tools, and armor. And from his hide, I fashioned the finest cloak, that his spirit might keep me safe in the chillier nights—as he did the night he gave his life for us.
[He still had that cloak, in fact. Or once did, before Enprise took his Gate and all its treasures away from him.]
Girnun, "lofty noble", earned his name in the end, and teaches us thus: though purpose may not always be apparent, though it may not always occur to us, or be known to us, it shows its face in the moment that matters most. It protects us and it guides us. In purpose, there is courage, and in courage we are strong.
[ It hurts for some reason. He's not even sure why, but by the time Gilgamesh presents his intent for telling such a story, Masamune can only open his mouth and have nothing able to spill from it and so he closes it once more. He gets it but he also sees a flaw in where he has no purpose still and yet that lion was able to. That is disheartening, but not nearly as much as the immense empathy he is experiencing and he feels sad and happy and angry all at once for this animal in a story he doesn't even know is true or not.
Masamune only imagines his fractured emotional response comes from the illness. ]
... Because that lion loved you so much. For you, for your people and the kingdom that belonged to you he found purpose even though—
[ ... Perhaps the lion never noticed. Perhaps it thought being released was for it to protect its master and his city and that was why it always made sure to return.
In one sense, that is the type of death any warrior would wish for: under the impression of serving their lord or country and fighting for something important, whether because it was personally important or because it was to the one they held most dear.
It doesn't help Masamune find a way to seek a purpose here as he does not have what this lion had (or perceived it had, he doesn't know), but it is terribly humbling, nevertheless. The young warlord can't even bring himself to finish a sentence—he can't finish any desire to completely feel one way or another.
It sucks. But, maybe he needed this, even if only to take his mind temporarily off feeling bad for himself. It's pathetic to get upset over a creature like this through a story merely visualized by words. But, so is a lot of other stuff he's been doing so what's one more? ]
[ he acknowledges quietly, not trusting himself to say too much or contemplate about it. He's not good at finding his own purpose, just striving to be the thing those who believe in expect him to no matter how impossible. ]
...
...Even if not, though... I'm glad you found yours here. [ While he sounds tired, there's nothing blot suggest anything but sincerity. ]
...Back home, I had the power to make a difference rather than play a chess piece in a game. I can't make a difference here—any other individual could take my place and the outcome would be the same.
...That's easy for you to say now that you've overcome the obstacle of choosing this place or your world, isn't it? Have you changed the game or do you like what you've been handed?
[He can doubt... but Gilgamesh was the sort of person to make dreams reality, no matter how absurd. The invitation had been extended for that reason alone, so Masamune might see for himself what can be accomplished with the will of a god. He doesn't feel sorry for him and he won't force him to feel better.
But he will give him a chance to see just what true glory looks like. And maybe that might accomplish more than soothing words ever could.]
Survive, Masamune.
[...although that one word itself could be interpreted any number of ways.]
[ he would probably find his situation less miserable otherwise. Still... ]
I'm tired, Gilgamesh of Uruk... another time, if things are meant to be. [ He does sound the part, but seems a little less agitated in distress. Maybe somewhere something in the efforts of soothing words they did do something, after all. Masamune's carrier makes a light squeak before ending the transmission line, its eyes returning to normal as it wiggles to get more comfort against its master in its best efforts to act protective despite its small form. Well, that and sleep. It's good at the second one. It, too, though, is hopeful the message has helped Masamune, even if at miniscule amounts, at best&and ash;it's the only person who has sought him out with messages with his sudden withdrawal from daily life—that must mean something and suggest something about the messenger, yes? ]
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[Though Gilgamesh's tone turns lighter and seems to hint at otherwise. Had Masamune been present in person, he would've seen his brow twitch a little and a distant gaze give his true feelings away. Like this, however, suspense largely reigns.]
One evening, Girnun did not come home. "Good riddance," I said; but I sent a search party for him regardless. They returned with his corpse the next morning.
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That lion never asked to be blind and useless, which makes Masamune feel an unwanted empathy for a beast he has never even seen in passing—a creature this man has nothing positive to say about. ]
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[There is no love in how he speaks. Instead, there is slight awe, as if he still could not believe what had transpired five thousand years later.]
Word spreads very quickly in a place such as Uruk. By noon, the children had gathered in the square, weeping; the women beside them, the men downtrodden. Against my own judgment, I had overlooked something: that beneath my nose, beyond my notice, this lion had been beloved by my people as a great protector.
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[He still had that cloak, in fact. Or once did, before Enprise took his Gate and all its treasures away from him.]
Girnun, "lofty noble", earned his name in the end, and teaches us thus: though purpose may not always be apparent, though it may not always occur to us, or be known to us, it shows its face in the moment that matters most. It protects us and it guides us. In purpose, there is courage, and in courage we are strong.
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Masamune only imagines his fractured emotional response comes from the illness. ]
... Because that lion loved you so much. For you, for your people and the kingdom that belonged to you he found purpose even though—
[ ... Perhaps the lion never noticed. Perhaps it thought being released was for it to protect its master and his city and that was why it always made sure to return.
In one sense, that is the type of death any warrior would wish for: under the impression of serving their lord or country and fighting for something important, whether because it was personally important or because it was to the one they held most dear.
It doesn't help Masamune find a way to seek a purpose here as he does not have what this lion had (or perceived it had, he doesn't know), but it is terribly humbling, nevertheless. The young warlord can't even bring himself to finish a sentence—he can't finish any desire to completely feel one way or another.
It sucks. But, maybe he needed this, even if only to take his mind temporarily off feeling bad for himself. It's pathetic to get upset over a creature like this through a story merely visualized by words. But, so is a lot of other stuff he's been doing so what's one more? ]
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[It is a soft reassurance, murmured as if just before bed, just before pulling the sheets over his head to tuck him in.]
Do not shrivel up and cower when the scorpions come. Show them a dragon still has fangs.
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[ he acknowledges quietly, not trusting himself to say too much or contemplate about it. He's not good at finding his own purpose, just striving to be the thing those who believe in expect him to no matter how impossible. ]
...
...Even if not, though... I'm glad you found yours here. [ While he sounds tired, there's nothing blot suggest anything but sincerity. ]
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[A sacrifice he still considers each and every day, that others still remind him of, and likely will forever.]
...it is not wrong of you to wish for return. To see no reason in this war, and the people around you. I do not fault you for it.
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...Back home, I had the power to make a difference rather than play a chess piece in a game. I can't make a difference here—any other individual could take my place and the outcome would be the same.
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Are you coming along, or not?
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...yeah. If a cure shows up, I will come along with you.
[ He doubts either will happen, anyway. ]
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But he will give him a chance to see just what true glory looks like. And maybe that might accomplish more than soothing words ever could.]
Survive, Masamune.
[...although that one word itself could be interpreted any number of ways.]
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[ he would probably find his situation less miserable otherwise. Still... ]
I'm tired, Gilgamesh of Uruk... another time, if things are meant to be. [ He does sound the part, but seems a little less agitated in distress. Maybe somewhere something in the efforts of soothing words they did do something, after all. Masamune's carrier makes a light squeak before ending the transmission line, its eyes returning to normal as it wiggles to get more comfort against its master in its best efforts to act protective despite its small form. Well, that and sleep. It's good at the second one. It, too, though, is hopeful the message has helped Masamune, even if at miniscule amounts, at best&and ash;it's the only person who has sought him out with messages with his sudden withdrawal from daily life—that must mean something and suggest something about the messenger, yes? ]