partially stars.

FALSE LANCER  (  ENKIDU  ) Fate/Grand Order   (   Fate/Strange Fake   )

clay. they are literally made of dirt. walking dirt

a divine construct with a personality. they made a friend    &    she taught them about society    &   people    &    enkidu was like oh cool thats neat    [    copies her entire person so they look nearly identical    ]    can I go see these “people” now

they are genderless please be aware of this

 bff is gilgamesh but   :(   they died   :( 

appear nice but absolutely have a wild streak    (    fighty. they're fighty at the end of the day but I mean who isn’t fighty if you hang with gilgamesh for fucking eons    )

We Do Not Wear Shoes in this house

technically speaking they're very old   &   immortal but like. well.

if your name is ishtar you should probably run the other way

pretty much here to vibe

can talk to animals    &    plants    &    stuff, essentially

         CONTEMPLATIVENESS SINGS THROUGH : and reveals itself around the roots ; the crisp young leaf, bronze-orange ; the grass-blades tripping in lines, a resistant emerald unilluminated by light throwing shallow shade, but instead by streaks of sun flooding foliage as from founts. Between beam and gloom, they become updrawn : tan is heavyweight upon their shoulders, but they carry it well. Saffron and emerald and cinnabar ( they have observed the awakening buds before them, obstinate even prior to facing wintertide ) do not compare to grace-fueled sapphire.

         Eyes that peer at the expanse before them, life waving aloft to its grain ; reverberant over the plain ; then settle on a voice that is seemingly uplifted by the breeze—and far from hideousness of hoof and horn. Far from wallowing deviltry and what may reek from a lair given to bones. Their brow is bent on them, and they admit :

         ❛    I intended to conceal it more, given the opportunity.   ❜   

         They retell it inwardly : turning again to the ancient difficult steeps of Heaven, and there alone they pine ; the peculiar passions of their vessel-given heart tearing them and rending their being. And here they dwell, missing the heavens, and the white peaks ; that garden where smiles are afoot, and the light air of old. There, in their stead, finding the soft sweet sun of the vale ; the clouds which veil the skies when necessary, only when the rains must feed the streams of replicated life. Gates like a pure draught of wine.

         ( and so went the long road of good intentions. )

         Still, Castiel is buoyed by curiosity, for they are like a white sunbeam from the dear bright earth. ❛    You are also transcendental. I am reminded of rained-upon soil, of early-morning dewdrops ; of breathing life into man until rose erases their pallor, yet that is not accurate enough.   ❜

         Perilous even here : daring to touch the nerve of CHANGE. Wisdom rising central in complexity despite change being on their wings to bud.

         ❛    Enlighten me.   ❜   

❝     conceal it more    ?    why should you hide what you are. humanity will always, eventually, wilt before you no matter your shape    (    infinitesimal as you are    )    —    concealing yourself for their sake    ?    to walk among them, to learn of them    &    see their world is a blessing that will only last you so long. you do not seem to be one who has not already seen their worst    &    their best. it would do you well, I think, to respect your own creation in their wake. for whomever shaped you surely saw purpose in your form, no    ?     ❞     straightening up with a partial smile on their lips, kaleidoscopes gaze as ancient as the one before them.     ❝     I do not think this is a place where you would benefit from concealment. it is taxing. but that is not the conversation you seek.     ❞     (    they did not need eyes to witness this creatures light, the bright magnificence of divinity crafted immortality curling before them    );    rocking back on their heels with a hum of consideration.

a song in a language oh so unfamiliar. the soft cadence of ancient thought    (    tremor of the cosmos    )    —    a tune oh so much like their own sordid history. ishtar’s wrath upon the high heavens. 

          @fictile​.

Cotes was overgrown, of course. The trees extended themselves throughout the ward, and where there weren’t trees, there were all other sorts of greenery. And it was strange, in a way, to a boy-who-wasn’t-a-boy who was used to the endless sea of stars in the sky and the bustle of cities otherwise, that there could be places still so bustling but yet so vibrant. Vibrant not in the way a city plaza lights up with a thousand neon colours, but vibrant with a burst of oranges and reds as autumn set in, vibrant with bright greens that refused to fade away even with the turning of the season.

Voyager, brilliant as a star, stood out.

The tall… um… – they were another Servant, weren’t they? yes, yes, they had to be – the tall Servant standing looking just as tall and green to Voyager as anything else in the area did not. Voyager almost mistook them for a tree at first. Maybe they were pretending to be one? He didn’t know. He wouldn’t question it, if they were. His brow furrowed in thought for a moment, making up his mind as to if it was worthwhile toddling over to them and joining them in the whatever-it-was – and, well, it was, he thought.

So Voyager fell into place by their side. It didn’t look like they were doing much. They just sort of seemed quiet and still. Voyager crossed his arms over his chest and stared waaaaay up at them. He’d definitely seen taller, but Voyager wasn’t exactly the largest.

“Hello!” He announced, after a few more moments of silence.

“Are you trying to change colour, too, like the leaves?”

Maybe their hair would suddenly turn bright red! Voyager laughed lightly just at the thought.

it was strange, this hub of people    &    creatures alike. towering buildings full of homes where once such mortal creations would have been for the gods alone    (    forever reaching higher    &    higher towering towards the heavens    &    desperate for their approval    ).    then, it truly was no surprised enkidu had    (    eventually    )    made their way towards something more...   familiar in nature. fingers gently brushing along the foliage of this overgrown place; plants climbing buildings    &    the soft murmur of their contentment in the air. it was beautiful. 

there was not much thought given to that which was inhuman back in their home. such things seen as lesser now a bright cacophony of pleasure amongst the man made.

but, that was not all this place offered. expanse of green turning to offer a smile towards the one before them, one hand brushing back the cascade of grass    (    slow footsteps tracing the earth below them on the servants meandering journey through their new    —    perhaps temporary    —    home    );    the bright sunlight a reflection of joy. this one, then, was like them    ?    even without a master no drive for conflict.     ❝     ah, I am not going to change like the leaves. that is for the trees to sleep    &    I will not be joining through the winter. they speak, though, of their oncoming slumber. but I don’t think that is what you were asking    —     ❞     laughter in their words, continuing forward after a momentary pause.

    a shake of the head, debris falling from hair and horns. cracking of glass sounds the beasts movements; the shift in weight and rise from all fours to stand, almost, proper. a persistent slouch curving his form, the silhouette of it from the light of the broken window behind him caught his attention. it earned a curious tilt of the head – as if something new, foreign. something almost tugged at the mind to consider it further… but the will to do so was lacking.

  and a distraction from it presented itself – in the shape of another. shadow joining the corner of a blank gaze, reeling in the beasts attention. almost instantaneously was he lowering again, the desire to continue his hunt reignited.

    ‘twas no proper voice to greet them; to warn them – nothing but a snarl of a man gone mad, eager to lunge at the very next move made. or even sooner, in fact…  /  @fictile​

carefully their gaze watched the shape before them    (    frown falling into place, shifting back on their feet with a soft hum of consideration    )    —    a weary eye on what is, without question, some kind of beast. enkidu was equipped to handle such, it is of course what they were    !    a weapon in the shape of a human, but no soul resided here. this, though, was not what they necessarily sought. for if every beast was treated as some monster should they not, too, be dead    ?

such thoughts did not necessitate protection    (    a simple approach    ).

built of the earth, born of the divine    (    carefully shaped by the hands of anu    &    aruru, a beast made of clay    )    left to wander the earth with only the barest strings of purpose. the chains of heaven; meant to return a demigod to their own pantheon. how foolish that command was, for something which had no sense of self, had no understanding of the world around it but for the chiming melody of a priestess’ voice in their ear    (    charmed into a human guise, made in her image    ).    how little they truly understood even then    (    oh, but their purpose was now known having since been granted something similar to a soul    —    a piece of knowledge tightly grasped blooming into full understanding    ).    they had wished to walk amongst humanity. for that, they know, they had died.

their body was not their own, their existence not their choice. 

it was interesting how, then, they had ended up here. further still born of a false war    &    left against all odds within the throne, should they not have been summoned for a purpose   ?    a discrepancy against the rest    (    demigods    &    kings, the easy way with which all walked along the earth in light of its creatures    ).    they were born to notice the divine, not learn that of mortality, it should never have made it into their essence.

all of which is why that before them was so much more noticeable. the base components, of course, were easy enough    —    the simplistic gaze of that which knows little else could make out the form of a man sitting quietly on a bench. enkidu was not made of the same pieces that confined humanity into its pockets of understanding    (    those driven by magic to fix that, reach a new plane, uninteresting to them    ).    no, instead they saw the slumped form of something much grander; shuffling between images    &    burning with the same divinity only granted by gods. the crackle of energy in the air easy enough to distinguish from the cries of the earth below    (    barefoot in the cold wind of autumn, shock of summer a bright mark against the dull chill of reds    &    browns    &    the smell of decay; the earth claims all but they were no longer cursed to bear such    ).    the distant clash of thunder bringing a smile to their lips.

quiet steps, careful in their approach with bright gaze peering past the shell to the expanse beyond. oh, enkidu knew of the other careful creations of the universe, partaken in the magic the divine wrought    (    a weapon, the carefully formed dirt turned sentience not the same as divinity shoved into something which can barely confine it    ).    gently their fingers touched the arm of the bench; white fabric blown in the wind, the echo of the earth in their chest. 

king arthur: legend of the sword  ╱  not accepting.

Turning to face the other, gaze meeting shades of red  (  natures partial smile  ).  Had they  ??  A twist of fate returning what was once lost  ---  an eternity, locked out of their grasp  ---  all but a miracle.  Enkidu was not about to refuse such a gift; each moment treasured.  While usually prone to tagging along behind  (  they did not have many wants, content to simply exist in his presence  )  ---  it had been a field trip of sorts, a surprise  !!  floating about in streaks of blue brimming with voices.  The lancer was not the fondest of humanity’s traps, but they could acknowledge the too seldom benefits.

An aquarium was entirely unexpected  ---  not one drenched in people but quiet along the coast.  Gilgamesh knew them too well  (  careful fingers drifting between tanks, bright eyes, to accompany a soft melody; learning along their path  ).