Masamune's not even referring to going visiting the person that came closer to spilling his brain matter all over the sand than any monster or demon, but really... just...
it's so hot. Why is it so hot?
At the very least, he's preoccupied by this ... Tent display and has been since noticing it on the way. So, he's actually outside the tent now, not really sure how to make his arrival known and instead staring up the length-height of the tent.
[Gilgamesh comes strolling out to greet him, then places a finger to the man's lips, gesturing to the sky.
Above their heads, a series of portals open up. Golden ones, ones that Masamune won't recognize as they belong to Gilgamesh himself rather than functioning as part of the world. And from those portals, guided by a wordless whisper, snow begins to fall across the sandy landscape.
It's accompanied by a blast of chill, as well, as there's no "snow machine" without the cold behind it. So for a brief time, Masamune will feel relief, and he will know Gilgamesh as a person who kept his word. Just as he said, he makes it snow, and thus turns the desert into his own winter wonderland.
That smooth little smile of his never fades, as if he knew all along that this would be the outcome. Because he did.]
[ This actually... feels like a dream the way it occurs; executing without any words being exchanged making it especially so.
The feeling of a disguised nightmare isn't far behind it, though. Not because he can see through the other (not at all—the little smile sets off instinctive alarm bells but there's nothing to support them). After all, he still knows nothing about Gilgamesh. Even their first meeting could be chalked up to the scenario that set the stage for it.
(Afterwards, he had been pretty fine, right?)
Catching a bit of snow in his hand, he continues staring up in shock before finally blinking and looking from his palm to the creator of this. Swallowing, the miserable sticky heat has lost influence rapidly on him, making him a little bit more self-aware in the process. A dragon-- or this dragon, at least, seems to be at more disadvantage in the heat. In fact, it's why he usually only ventures around come twilight here. He wants to ask how he did this, but he's not sure he wants to know, either. It just seems to prove, along with the swords and the power before that this king is definitely of divine blood just as claimed.
There's a dilemma now, that he didn't realize (as well as one he doesn't, not even realizing he's showing some obvious dependence). Gilgamesh is the only one who can do this. Maybe he shouldn't get used to it, it most likely is going to come at premium price. Still, even considering a potential rip-off deal, he's just staring at the other person now for two reasons.
One, is of course, he is speechless (and has no idea anything but what he sees at face value now with Gilgamesh good to his word.)
The other is, however, just Gilgamesh himself. For the first time, he takes a really good look at him—he stands out so much more with white falling around him than the countless sandy dunes. Ah, well, he supposes if this person is very well comfortable with propositioning, he must get what he wants often without fuss considering his appearance alone. He's pleasing to look at, certainly, but that's not what is taken away from noticing this. Instead, its more a thought along the lines of what else did I fail to notice?
Masamune blinks suddenly, realizing he's staring and looks of to the side, a bit embarrassed. Ahh, crap... something is unsettling but he doesn't understand what, so he takes it upon himself to crouch down and start touching the snow laying atop sand. ]
[To gaze upon Gilgamesh has often been compared to gazing upon a dream. He is beauty incarnate; selfishness, too, and cruelty, and many other, nastier things, but above all he was made with perfection in mind. It makes sense for Masamune to stare. In fact, Gilgamesh expects him to. He may have even been a little offended if he did not.
The way Masamune behaves, shellshocked and utterly out of his element, reminds Gilgamesh of a child. Certainly, he was very young, no older than his late teens, although the eyepatch suggested a quick and grizzly ascension through the ranks of his people. It's endearing. And, of course, he's also handsome, with soft chestnut hair that begs for his fingers to run through. The subtle crease of his lip, his sharp chin. He's the spitting image of a youth in his prime and he will always be attracted to that dashing sort of figure.
Gilgamesh joins Masamune by the pile of snow and picks it up, packing it into a ball.]
Have you played in the snow before?
[It seems that Gilgamesh may be offering. It's just that whimsical kind of day.]
Just by myself when I was small. I wasn't allowed around other kids much. [ the question seems to take the edge off a little, him offering a bit of undeniable as he answers.
Then, I am officially commandeering this pile as my own. Go find another to arm yourself with.
[Yes, indeed. Two grown men, two "heartless" warriors from two unforgiving eras, are now about to fling snow at each other for fun. Because that's what it means to be an adult.]
[ ah!? Masamune blinks inching away on his knees from the motion directly, although when he finds what the motion is for, he complains (while already going to get a new spot pile, wow)!! ]
Hey! That's not how it works !?
[ a least snow piles are plentiful. Regardless of everything else, Gilgamesh deserves recognition for distracting the dragon so easily from his apprehensive feelings. He seems very much fine now, as if he never had the concern to begin with.
Of course, Masamune is also going to immediately take a snowball after making like... two and throw it aimed to smack Gilgamesh in the head while he's looking down at his snow.
Oops, sorry not sorry for preemptive strike revenge for taking his pile. ]
Yeah, okay, so on top of cold he's buried under a huge bunch of snow now.
After a moment, though, he will reappear popping out from one side but failing to get all the way out. Instead he flops like a fish head first into more snow. Huh. Super graceful right there.
He's got this, though. He won't give up so easily!? Albeit, he sort of rolls around in the snow to get the rest of the way free from the pile, coughing on some snow he swallowed, but he is overall relatively no worse for the wear. Even if there's a lot of snow in his hair instead of Gilgamesh's.
--Ah no, okay, he involuntarily has to let out a couple shivers. it's true dragon is really really cold now especially with snow in places he doesn't want it. It's like going to the beach and getting sand in your swimsuit and in your hair and your butt and—but with snow and more clothes. ]
[Gilgamesh reappears a short distance away, floating on his own energy and carrying something over his shoulder... oh, my. That appears to be some kind of snow gun he's prepared to assault Masamune with, with snow already loaded in it and everything. He's serious about this! Or rather, serious about playing around.
Gilgamesh's finger hovers over the trigger as he grins.]
Oh? Is that it? And to think I was looking forward to actual sport...
For a moment Masamune looks stunned like a child realizing mom's really serious and mad this time around before he bows his head a little before glancing back up with a little grin. He's really cold, which unfortunately is clear in his voice even as tries for it not to be. ]
Hhhuu ...ohh yeah? If you wanted to go m-more hhhardcore, why didn't you just s-say so ... in the first place?
[ Remember that whole seeming much more natural in his element in the cold than in the blistering heat?
Masamune pushes a palm down into the snow rather decisively before there's an invisible burst of something that a few puffs of powdered snow make obvious before small snow spouts start to burst from the ground propelling the snow in these circular columns along and keep moving towards Gilgamesh. Think smaller scale geysers but with snow instead of hot water.
Better get out of the way, king of heroes, unless you want to be punted like a football and then be doused in snow at the same time.
Did you know the little dragon had a second element? Well, you do now, because if you're bringing out the big guns for a snow fight, so is he. ]
When the snowy spouts approach, Gilgamesh weaves his body agilely around them. He doesn't attempt to plow through or vanish this time, but rather makes a show of he can bend himself, how we can weave his figure with effortless grace however he pleases. What started as retaliation quickly becomes performance art as Gilgamesh glides his way to Masamune, twisting circles and grinning coyly at the other man. This is flirtation, courtship, plain and simply. It cannot be called anything else.
It would be impossible not to notice his discomfort, so ever so cleverly he asks:]
Chilly?
[He would be, too, if he weren't a Servant and thus immune to the sort of thing. He cozies up close to Masamune's side and shares some precious body heat.]
Were you truly ready to "play" with me? Or was that simply dragon's bravado talking?
[ For a bit there, Masamune seems fine to provide orchestration to this courtship display that one could argue maybe he knows exactly what it is and what he's doing.
And in a way, he does. He knows flirting and he knows flirting in a game of versus, violence or for some simple roughing around.
It's when he feels the actual heat the other possesses that he is struck off guard. The feeling is not heat of the adrenaline rush, the kind that boils blood and the eases away like low tide from the shore. It's something that feels even better with Gilgamesh reminding him how cold he actually is.
(And there's something saying that he came this far he should not back down. He's curious about it, maybe even morbidly so now and to waste the chance would be the worst decision he could make. His response is quiet, with of bit of shyness (or is that just him being coy) in his body language while his words express a bit differently. ]
Mm... I do want to 'play', if I'll be accepted as a playmate.
[ he's not ready. But that doesn't mean he's not feeling like he wants it anyway if it'll be given to him right now. He knows he shouldn't and he's convinced it's not all him (too sudden a desire that aches). However, what he knows doesn't mean it automatically all works out ideally. ]
[There's no need to go overboard here, even for the likes of Gilgamesh. The man has effectively surrendered himself to him now, so Gilgamesh allows himself to fall into comfortable step, brushing shoulders and drawing faces together. His eyes are a curious thing, at this distance, bloody and red and snakelike, but they radiate the same warmth coming from his body. His voice remains quiet, as well, as one would speak to a beast they are trying to soothe. Or perhaps trying to befriend.
Apparently he accepted that "dragon" claim at face value. But maybe that's just a boon for the likes of Masamune, who longs to be taken seriously.]
Come inside. I will make you very...
[Gilgamesh sweeps his fingers along the length of an arm up to Masamune's chin. His touch is featherlight, inviting. Even a virgin, or someone nearly that, will recognize his movements and machinations for what they are. It is possible be dense, but in Masamune's case, he's only half blind.]
...very...
[And, just barely, just enough to catch his interest, Gilgamesh snaps his teeth at him as if bite. He figures the man, the dragon, may like that too.]
[ but they suit him well, don't they, with that blonde hair? Like gold and jewels, Masamune briefly thinks, and for a moment he wonders if he has misjudged this person? Perhaps that first part of their encounter was just that—or first.
(At the same time... he feels a little like some animal that has become desired as a pet and he's being lured into a place he's never going to get out of once he crosses the threshold.)
Gilgamesh is good, though—the way he speaks and handles the young warlord plays right into that need to be taken seriously and to be of interest to someone. Even if the touch ends up being misleading, he's right now finding it very enticing and irresistibly inviting. It's so much that-- while he understands the implications --he doesn't feel it matters what is being suggested because it will make not a difference, anyway, whether he will follow or stay put.
The King of Heroes ends this quite a sensual masterfully; that click of teeth in suggestive representation actually is what ultimately hooks Masamune to follow. It makes his heart skip a beat, leaving sensation to rush over him and a curious attraction to make any further hesitation impossible.
(If he is kept as a pet in the end, surely it matters far less if the master makes it a worthwhile experience, that voice encourages. For a moment, too, Masamune believes that it really might even be his very own. ]
[Like a fish to a lure, Gilgamesh leads Masamune inside.
Much as he may have wanted to play outdoors, within the tents it's a pleasant compromise between hot and cold, equal parts cool and warm. Weaving their fingers together, Gilgamesh descends into a seat of cozy blankets and pillows—a perfect nest for a dragon—and drags Masamune down with him.
However, even still, he minds himself. He allows Masamune a moment of adjustment instead of pouncing outright.]
Do you take tea? Wine, perhaps?
[Gilgamesh draws his golden goblet from his Gate, and before Masamune even signals a preference he pours a cup of his finest for his guest. It's only polite, or rather, it's only practical to have his meal fully sated before he dines upon him. Fluffing him up before he feasts. And that's all this is, really, the only reason he's being so generous: it's so he can ravish him.
Sipping behind his goblet, he shifts into smooth, cultured Japanese.]
I speak this tongue well, if you prefer it. Though you'll excuse a modern dialect; it is what I am accustomed to.
[ This guy... he really knows how to work it all, even the soft idle touches like lacing together their fingers that he's only seen the courtesans do back home.
Although he is surprised when he's pulled onto the pillows, it disappears quickly in favor of the realization how comfortable it is. This is nice... it's really nice especially compared to the beds elsewhere in this place. Even though he's starting to get wet from melting snow that hasn't fallen off or is otherwise stuck between clothes and skin, it's tempting enough to simply curl up and lay here. Even if he isn't tired, the luxury comfort is amazing.
Even the casual language change is effective in drawing the little dragon one step closer in being completely tangled in the net set out for him. Holding his glass after having tried the wine (it's... really good stuff, probably a lot more potent than what he's used to, also. ]
...I do like it. So, is there anything you can't do?
[ He really does not need alcohol to add to his vulnerable stupor as it is currently, but it's good beyond being able to only have a courtesy taste, so he indulges in it.
(He gets it. Again, this is the same performance courtesans can provide. Alcohol, casual conversation, little by little bold sensual advances until it goes from there. But, even so, Masamune's never felt so desperate and anxious. Without conscious attempt, he ends up pressing his back up against Gilgamesh's shoulder, his instincts seeking out a bit more of that body heat. ]
[Gilgamesh laughs at the question, at once quiet and coy.]
Wield six at a time, maybe. At least like you do.
[It's both a tease and a compliment, rolled into one. Now that they've established the tone of the meeting—that is, the near certainty of what will transpire and how it will end—Gilgamesh feels it appropriate to be more openly affectionate with his body language. When Masamune presses closer, Gilgamesh's hand finds a soft spot in Masamune's hair as he guides the man's head to his own shoulder. The height difference isn't severe, but being the taller of the two it makes sense to take "ownership" in this way.
Gilgamesh strokes him as he would a favorite pet, soothing fingers along his scalp. In this case, perhaps it's better to refer to him as a favorite dragon.]
But yes, even I have some limitations. Just very few. Like you, I suspect, high expectations were placed on me from a young age.
[His smile wavers, just a little.]
I did not play with the other children, either. Rather, they worshiped me, and I was on a different level entirely all along.
[ Something about the affection is desirable in a scale past any physical lust. Masamune knows better than to take this as anything but an instance—when this is over, their next meeting won't be dictated by anything that happens here (so he thinks). Regardless, though, it's nice to feel the affection from someone, to feel wanted (what does he care if he's wanted for sex or not, it's still being wanted and he can enjoy that). The fingers in his hair make a pleasant tingle spread down to his shoulders, which results in him shifting slightly to better be in contact with Gilgamesh. It results in an unintended nuzzle against the Heroic Spirit's shoulder, an acknowledging (and shy to take the compliment) sigh being let out before he considers the information revealed. ]
Was it lonely for you like that ... or did you prefer it?
[Gilgamesh may be a tyrant, but good behavior is always repaid in kind. Whether it was purposeful or not, Gilgamesh rewards that softer with the brush of a kiss to Masamune's forehead. It may be false, it may just be to butter him up for all that will follow, and Masamune may know that, but in the moment it will feel earnest. And maybe it is.
But maybe it isn't.]
It was not a matter of choice. I was not born, but made. Like you samurai are forged in war and in strife, I was forged by the chains of destiny.
[That much is an honest answer. Gilgamesh can conceal and hide things, but to call him a liar is not quite true.]
Of course, I also broke them. But in part I cannot help who and what I am.
[ Made, huh? Sounds like a worse situation than he himself ever was in.
Of course, Masamune doesn't really know that much about Gilgamesh and seeing that truly hateful and bitter side will be quite an experience if that day has to come; but , for the meantime he can think much less severe actions in terms of consequence than what Gilgamesh's world really went through.
[ he's a little jealous. That's been said to be the best way to live. He's been slowly learning, but ... it's hard... especially letting go of that one incident that still plagues him.
Masamune's advantage is that he's accepted it, though. So it's easy to recall, easy to have nightmares about but still move on as if it all thoughts of it have been put to rest in the past along with the actual event.
The head bump surprises him... for someone who he feels has a perfect setup for being lonely, he sure is incredibly affectionate-- or better yet he knows what it entails. He wonders about asking a little more, to try and find where Gilgamesh could have a similar lonely childhood but grow up so much ... warmer than Masamune has ever managed to be.
Or maybe he's just really good at acting. He's probably had a long time to get it right.
A little flustered from the affectionate touch of their heads, he rotates his cup to swirl about the contents inside of it to try and get his mind off it and hopefully get any visible burning of cheeks to go away.
look after me? ]
—from what?
[ wrong question, geez. ] ...nevermind, I actually meant to ask what you think of this place.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
action;
Masamune's not even referring to going visiting the person that came closer to spilling his brain matter all over the sand than any monster or demon, but really... just...
it's so hot. Why is it so hot?
At the very least, he's preoccupied by this ... Tent display and has been since noticing it on the way. So, he's actually outside the tent now, not really sure how to make his arrival known and instead staring up the length-height of the tent.
wtf is this a circus ]no subject
Above their heads, a series of portals open up. Golden ones, ones that Masamune won't recognize as they belong to Gilgamesh himself rather than functioning as part of the world. And from those portals, guided by a wordless whisper, snow begins to fall across the sandy landscape.
It's accompanied by a blast of chill, as well, as there's no "snow machine" without the cold behind it. So for a brief time, Masamune will feel relief, and he will know Gilgamesh as a person who kept his word. Just as he said, he makes it snow, and thus turns the desert into his own winter wonderland.
That smooth little smile of his never fades, as if he knew all along that this would be the outcome. Because he did.]
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The feeling of a disguised nightmare isn't far behind it, though. Not because he can see through the other (not at all—the little smile sets off instinctive alarm bells but there's nothing to support them). After all, he still knows nothing about Gilgamesh. Even their first meeting could be chalked up to the scenario that set the stage for it.
(Afterwards, he had been pretty fine, right?)
Catching a bit of snow in his hand, he continues staring up in shock before finally blinking and looking from his palm to the creator of this. Swallowing, the miserable sticky heat has lost influence rapidly on him, making him a little bit more self-aware in the process. A dragon-- or this dragon, at least, seems to be at more disadvantage in the heat. In fact, it's why he usually only ventures around come twilight here. He wants to ask how he did this, but he's not sure he wants to know, either. It just seems to prove, along with the swords and the power before that this king is definitely of divine blood just as claimed.
There's a dilemma now, that he didn't realize (as well as one he doesn't, not even realizing he's showing some obvious dependence). Gilgamesh is the only one who can do this. Maybe he shouldn't get used to it, it most likely is going to come at premium price. Still, even considering a potential rip-off deal, he's just staring at the other person now for two reasons.
One, is of course, he is speechless (and has no idea anything but what he sees at face value now with Gilgamesh good to his word.)
The other is, however, just Gilgamesh himself. For the first time, he takes a really good look at him—he stands out so much more with white falling around him than the countless sandy dunes. Ah, well, he supposes if this person is very well comfortable with propositioning, he must get what he wants often without fuss considering his appearance alone. He's pleasing to look at, certainly, but that's not what is taken away from noticing this. Instead, its more a thought along the lines of what else did I fail to notice?
Masamune blinks suddenly, realizing he's staring and looks of to the side, a bit embarrassed. Ahh, crap... something is unsettling but he doesn't understand what, so he takes it upon himself to crouch down and start touching the snow laying atop sand. ]
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The way Masamune behaves, shellshocked and utterly out of his element, reminds Gilgamesh of a child. Certainly, he was very young, no older than his late teens, although the eyepatch suggested a quick and grizzly ascension through the ranks of his people. It's endearing. And, of course, he's also handsome, with soft chestnut hair that begs for his fingers to run through. The subtle crease of his lip, his sharp chin. He's the spitting image of a youth in his prime and he will always be attracted to that dashing sort of figure.
Gilgamesh joins Masamune by the pile of snow and picks it up, packing it into a ball.]
Have you played in the snow before?
[It seems that Gilgamesh may be offering. It's just that whimsical kind of day.]
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Maybe he's hoping that Gilgamesh is offering. ]
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Then, I am officially commandeering this pile as my own. Go find another to arm yourself with.
[Yes, indeed. Two grown men, two "heartless" warriors from two unforgiving eras, are now about to fling snow at each other for fun. Because that's what it means to be an adult.]
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Hey! That's not how it works !?
[ a least snow piles are plentiful. Regardless of everything else, Gilgamesh deserves recognition for distracting the dragon so easily from his apprehensive feelings. He seems very much fine now, as if he never had the concern to begin with.
Of course, Masamune is also going to immediately take a snowball after making like... two and throw it aimed to smack Gilgamesh in the head while he's looking down at his snow.
Oops, sorry not sorry for preemptive strike revenge for taking his pile. ]
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He seems to have disappeared, but that can't be the case, can it? Perhaps Masamune should be mindful of his surroundings.]
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The young warlord mentally sighs about the portal because more unfairness, eh?
Well, Masamune supposed he'll just have to make due and look around before -- if still necessary -- to also look above himself. ]
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Gilgamesh proceeds to drop a veritable truckload of snow on him. Cold dragon is now very cold.]
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Yeah, okay, so on top of cold he's buried under a huge bunch of snow now.
After a moment, though, he will reappear popping out from one side but failing to get all the way out. Instead he flops like a fish head first into more snow. Huh. Super graceful right there.
He's got this, though. He won't give up so easily!? Albeit, he sort of rolls around in the snow to get the rest of the way free from the pile, coughing on some snow he swallowed, but he is overall relatively no worse for the wear. Even if there's a lot of snow in his hair instead of Gilgamesh's.
--Ah no, okay, he involuntarily has to let out a couple shivers. it's true dragon is really really cold now especially with snow in places he doesn't want it. It's like going to the beach and getting sand in your swimsuit and in your hair and your butt and—but with snow and more clothes. ]
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Gilgamesh's finger hovers over the trigger as he grins.]
Oh? Is that it? And to think I was looking forward to actual sport...
[Come on, dragon. You can do better than that.]
y u gotta be a dick with overkill
For a moment Masamune looks stunned like a child realizing mom's really serious and mad this time around before he bows his head a little before glancing back up with a little grin. He's really cold, which unfortunately is clear in his voice even as tries for it not to be. ]
Hhhuu ...ohh yeah? If you wanted to go m-more hhhardcore, why didn't you just s-say so ... in the first place?
[ Remember that whole seeming much more natural in his element in the cold than in the blistering heat?
Masamune pushes a palm down into the snow rather decisively before there's an invisible burst of something that a few puffs of powdered snow make obvious before small snow spouts start to burst from the ground propelling the snow in these circular columns along and keep moving towards Gilgamesh. Think smaller scale geysers but with snow instead of hot water.
Better get out of the way, king of heroes, unless you want to be punted like a football and then be doused in snow at the same time.
Did you know the little dragon had a second element? Well, you do now, because if you're bringing out the big guns for a snow fight, so is he. ]
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When the snowy spouts approach, Gilgamesh weaves his body agilely around them. He doesn't attempt to plow through or vanish this time, but rather makes a show of he can bend himself, how we can weave his figure with effortless grace however he pleases. What started as retaliation quickly becomes performance art as Gilgamesh glides his way to Masamune, twisting circles and grinning coyly at the other man. This is flirtation, courtship, plain and simply. It cannot be called anything else.
It would be impossible not to notice his discomfort, so ever so cleverly he asks:]
Chilly?
[He would be, too, if he weren't a Servant and thus immune to the sort of thing. He cozies up close to Masamune's side and shares some precious body heat.]
Were you truly ready to "play" with me? Or was that simply dragon's bravado talking?
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And in a way, he does. He knows flirting and he knows flirting in a game of versus, violence or for some simple roughing around.
It's when he feels the actual heat the other possesses that he is struck off guard. The feeling is not heat of the adrenaline rush, the kind that boils blood and the eases away like low tide from the shore. It's something that feels even better with Gilgamesh reminding him how cold he actually is.
(And there's something saying that he came this far he should not back down. He's curious about it, maybe even morbidly so now and to waste the chance would be the worst decision he could make. His response is quiet, with of bit of shyness (or is that just him being coy) in his body language while his words express a bit differently. ]
Mm... I do want to 'play', if I'll be accepted as a playmate.
[ he's not ready. But that doesn't mean he's not feeling like he wants it anyway if it'll be given to him right now. He knows he shouldn't and he's convinced it's not all him (too sudden a desire that aches). However, what he knows doesn't mean it automatically all works out ideally. ]
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Apparently he accepted that "dragon" claim at face value. But maybe that's just a boon for the likes of Masamune, who longs to be taken seriously.]
Come inside. I will make you very...
[Gilgamesh sweeps his fingers along the length of an arm up to Masamune's chin. His touch is featherlight, inviting. Even a virgin, or someone nearly that, will recognize his movements and machinations for what they are. It is possible be dense, but in Masamune's case, he's only half blind.]
...very...
[And, just barely, just enough to catch his interest, Gilgamesh snaps his teeth at him as if bite. He figures the man, the dragon, may like that too.]
...comfortable.
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(At the same time... he feels a little like some animal that has become desired as a pet and he's being lured into a place he's never going to get out of once he crosses the threshold.)
Gilgamesh is good, though—the way he speaks and handles the young warlord plays right into that need to be taken seriously and to be of interest to someone. Even if the touch ends up being misleading, he's right now finding it very enticing and irresistibly inviting. It's so much that-- while he understands the implications --he doesn't feel it matters what is being suggested because it will make not a difference, anyway, whether he will follow or stay put.
The King of Heroes ends this quite a sensual masterfully; that click of teeth in suggestive representation actually is what ultimately hooks Masamune to follow. It makes his heart skip a beat, leaving sensation to rush over him and a curious attraction to make any further hesitation impossible.
(If he is kept as a pet in the end, surely it matters far less if the master makes it a worthwhile experience, that voice encourages. For a moment, too, Masamune believes that it really might even be his very own. ]
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Much as he may have wanted to play outdoors, within the tents it's a pleasant compromise between hot and cold, equal parts cool and warm. Weaving their fingers together, Gilgamesh descends into a seat of cozy blankets and pillows—a perfect nest for a dragon—and drags Masamune down with him.
However, even still, he minds himself. He allows Masamune a moment of adjustment instead of pouncing outright.]
Do you take tea? Wine, perhaps?
[Gilgamesh draws his golden goblet from his Gate, and before Masamune even signals a preference he pours a cup of his finest for his guest. It's only polite, or rather, it's only practical to have his meal fully sated before he dines upon him. Fluffing him up before he feasts. And that's all this is, really, the only reason he's being so generous: it's so he can ravish him.
Sipping behind his goblet, he shifts into smooth, cultured Japanese.]
I speak this tongue well, if you prefer it. Though you'll excuse a modern dialect; it is what I am accustomed to.
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Although he is surprised when he's pulled onto the pillows, it disappears quickly in favor of the realization how comfortable it is. This is nice... it's really nice especially compared to the beds elsewhere in this place. Even though he's starting to get wet from melting snow that hasn't fallen off or is otherwise stuck between clothes and skin, it's tempting enough to simply curl up and lay here. Even if he isn't tired, the luxury comfort is amazing.
Even the casual language change is effective in drawing the little dragon one step closer in being completely tangled in the net set out for him. Holding his glass after having tried the wine (it's... really good stuff, probably a lot more potent than what he's used to, also. ]
...I do like it. So, is there anything you can't do?
[ He really does not need alcohol to add to his vulnerable stupor as it is currently, but it's good beyond being able to only have a courtesy taste, so he indulges in it.
(He gets it. Again, this is the same performance courtesans can provide. Alcohol, casual conversation, little by little bold sensual advances until it goes from there. But, even so, Masamune's never felt so desperate and anxious. Without conscious attempt, he ends up pressing his back up against Gilgamesh's shoulder, his instincts seeking out a bit more of that body heat. ]
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Wield six at a time, maybe. At least like you do.
[It's both a tease and a compliment, rolled into one. Now that they've established the tone of the meeting—that is, the near certainty of what will transpire and how it will end—Gilgamesh feels it appropriate to be more openly affectionate with his body language. When Masamune presses closer, Gilgamesh's hand finds a soft spot in Masamune's hair as he guides the man's head to his own shoulder. The height difference isn't severe, but being the taller of the two it makes sense to take "ownership" in this way.
Gilgamesh strokes him as he would a favorite pet, soothing fingers along his scalp. In this case, perhaps it's better to refer to him as a favorite dragon.]
But yes, even I have some limitations. Just very few. Like you, I suspect, high expectations were placed on me from a young age.
[His smile wavers, just a little.]
I did not play with the other children, either. Rather, they worshiped me, and I was on a different level entirely all along.
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Was it lonely for you like that ... or did you prefer it?
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But maybe it isn't.]
It was not a matter of choice. I was not born, but made. Like you samurai are forged in war and in strife, I was forged by the chains of destiny.
[That much is an honest answer. Gilgamesh can conceal and hide things, but to call him a liar is not quite true.]
Of course, I also broke them. But in part I cannot help who and what I am.
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Of course, Masamune doesn't really know that much about Gilgamesh and seeing that truly hateful and bitter side will be quite an experience if that day has to come; but , for the meantime he can think much less severe actions in terms of consequence than what Gilgamesh's world really went through.
Regardless, the young warlord nods. ]
So you don't regret it?
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[Only one, which he would never, ever speak of aloud to anyone.
Gilgamesh clunks their heads together, companionably.]
But do not concern yourself over it. You are my guest, so I will look after you as such.
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[ he's a little jealous. That's been said to be the best way to live. He's been slowly learning, but ... it's hard... especially letting go of that one incident that still plagues him.
Masamune's advantage is that he's accepted it, though. So it's easy to recall, easy to have nightmares about but still move on as if it all thoughts of it have been put to rest in the past along with the actual event.
The head bump surprises him... for someone who he feels has a perfect setup for being lonely, he sure is incredibly affectionate-- or better yet he knows what it entails. He wonders about asking a little more, to try and find where Gilgamesh could have a similar lonely childhood but grow up so much ... warmer than Masamune has ever managed to be.
Or maybe he's just really good at acting. He's probably had a long time to get it right.
A little flustered from the affectionate touch of their heads, he rotates his cup to swirl about the contents inside of it to try and get his mind off it and hopefully get any visible burning of cheeks to go away.
look after me? ]
—from what?
[ wrong question, geez. ] ...nevermind, I actually meant to ask what you think of this place.
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