[ the manner in which Gilgamesh looks at Enkidu, it is as a friend, yes -- as a warmest, dearest, most beloved companion.
but the manner in which Gilgamesh looks at Enkidu might also fit the description of what the moderns term a partner in crime.
there is an acute vulpine quality to the red gaze and the corresponding lazy slice of a grin on the face of the King of Heroes. he easily falls into a lightly swinging step beside his friend.
above, the pale blue of winter sky has shaded to murky grey tinged with rotten brown, the grey of gargoyles upon stone cathedrals -- the grey of another era of grand battles, familiar to a heroic spirit. there is no promise of rain or snow, only the darkening to precede an early and long night.
yet, Gilgamesh knows, in the Wilde, the land is green with spring. the small fingers lightly curling around his own, the hand encasing him, is gently leading him to a land of beauty and promise, a place where flowers still bloom. with each step he takes, he begins to believe that he apprehends the scent of those phantom flowers, though in reality he knows they must still have a ways to go. so drunk is he in the joy of placing one foot beside another, beside Enkidu, however, that time seems to move with the consistency of a slow butter spread. they walk towards dogwoods and pear trees and willows and spreading pink and white pinwheel flowers. ]
How foolish. [ the King laughs. ] You are right, my friend.
Whether we sleep in a small house or in the grandest ziggurat that I, the King, may have set the designs for -- should all the citizens of Uruk build it for me -- the greatest and most important outcome is the excellence of the King's journey... for all the treasures of the world shall amount to little if there is no pleasure in having them, in finding them, in traveling through the lands and rejoicing.
[ that is what their friendship means: Gilgamesh and Enkidu, the original Sumerians.
ultimately, they have no need of mansions or lush beds. Gilgamesh would rather lie his head in such a place. his vanity he does not even feel a need to defend himself against: let them say it of him. yet what truly satisfies his heart is to walk amid the waterfalls and the rough rocks of the mountains and to feel the thrill and the terror of that deep roar from the darkness of the Cedar Forest.
that is why, walking with Enkidu, there's that leap to his footsteps. it is as though they were traveling to the past together. it is fitting, a sort of promised afterlife as Servants, or something new besides. and now his friend is happier and though they still approach human concepts, it is with less tragic urgency. not so much of the hot, desperate, entangled need as before -- no, calmer now, steady, assured. ]
Hm. Well, I shall hear your supplications.
[ shall listen to those honey words. shall see the sights of the gardens. yes, let Enkidu bathe the King's eyes with the beauty of the flowers. is that not what they desire in the name of being lovers? a moment like that, yes?
(... though, whiskey, Enkidu, plz. rly? PLZ. just literally not even touching that.)
... highly unlikely. but that thought goes unspoken.
but Gilgamesh shall sample any drink as a matter of course. after the courage Hakuno had shown in food testing, how could the powerful and grand Servant do less than the crude and hapless Master?
hunting is more on Gilgamesh's mind than drinking. he allows himself to be led along, thinking absently of game. Bonding is a matter of course. naturally they shall Bond. but can Enkidu wait until they return to the Coven, or will this little Wilde sojourn need to be cut short? for now, Gilgamesh seems to await his friend's verdict, allowing them to lead the way.
i need more icons of them
but the manner in which Gilgamesh looks at Enkidu might also fit the description of what the moderns term a partner in crime.
there is an acute vulpine quality to the red gaze and the corresponding lazy slice of a grin on the face of the King of Heroes. he easily falls into a lightly swinging step beside his friend.
above, the pale blue of winter sky has shaded to murky grey tinged with rotten brown, the grey of gargoyles upon stone cathedrals -- the grey of another era of grand battles, familiar to a heroic spirit. there is no promise of rain or snow, only the darkening to precede an early and long night.
yet, Gilgamesh knows, in the Wilde, the land is green with spring. the small fingers lightly curling around his own, the hand encasing him, is gently leading him to a land of beauty and promise, a place where flowers still bloom. with each step he takes, he begins to believe that he apprehends the scent of those phantom flowers, though in reality he knows they must still have a ways to go. so drunk is he in the joy of placing one foot beside another, beside Enkidu, however, that time seems to move with the consistency of a slow butter spread. they walk towards dogwoods and pear trees and willows and spreading pink and white pinwheel flowers. ]
How foolish. [ the King laughs. ] You are right, my friend.
Whether we sleep in a small house or in the grandest ziggurat that I, the King, may have set the designs for -- should all the citizens of Uruk build it for me -- the greatest and most important outcome is the excellence of the King's journey... for all the treasures of the world shall amount to little if there is no pleasure in having them, in finding them, in traveling through the lands and rejoicing.
[ that is what their friendship means: Gilgamesh and Enkidu, the original Sumerians.
ultimately, they have no need of mansions or lush beds. Gilgamesh would rather lie his head in such a place. his vanity he does not even feel a need to defend himself against: let them say it of him. yet what truly satisfies his heart is to walk amid the waterfalls and the rough rocks of the mountains and to feel the thrill and the terror of that deep roar from the darkness of the Cedar Forest.
that is why, walking with Enkidu, there's that leap to his footsteps. it is as though they were traveling to the past together. it is fitting, a sort of promised afterlife as Servants, or something new besides. and now his friend is happier and though they still approach human concepts, it is with less tragic urgency. not so much of the hot, desperate, entangled need as before -- no, calmer now, steady, assured. ]
Hm. Well, I shall hear your supplications.
[ shall listen to those honey words. shall see the sights of the gardens. yes, let Enkidu bathe the King's eyes with the beauty of the flowers. is that not what they desire in the name of being lovers? a moment like that, yes?
(... though, whiskey, Enkidu, plz. rly? PLZ. just literally not even touching that.)
... highly unlikely. but that thought goes unspoken.
but Gilgamesh shall sample any drink as a matter of course. after the courage Hakuno had shown in food testing, how could the powerful and grand Servant do less than the crude and hapless Master?
hunting is more on Gilgamesh's mind than drinking. he allows himself to be led along, thinking absently of game. Bonding is a matter of course. naturally they shall Bond. but can Enkidu wait until they return to the Coven, or will this little Wilde sojourn need to be cut short? for now, Gilgamesh seems to await his friend's verdict, allowing them to lead the way.
see, he can be a generous King... ]