#warincarnate

             ┏ ⋮ ✖ ⋮ ━ ▶ “WHAT. THE. HELL!”

             Those three words erupted from his mouth when the vines latching onto his legs tightened their grip, refusing to let their newly acquired prisoner go. The view of the world from his perspective was suddenly vertically flipped, a result of the state his dangling body was in. Blood was rushing to his head, but his rage was the real cause behind his reddened face. “Fucking let me go you piece of shits!” Raising the upper part of his body up, he wrapped his fingers around a vine and attempted to blow it up, only to find out that it had no effect whatsoever. 

When Enkidu arrives at Gilgamesh’s place their hair is considerably shorter than normal, and hangs just above their shoulders. The rest is... elsewhere.

To add oddity to injury, they have a giant tiger rug draped over their shoulder.

“Here I find myself incredibly lost and unaccustomed to the ways of this new battlefield that I've been placed in and yet here I am having stumbled across another pitiful servant such as myself.” Cigarette is held in between index and forefinger before he lets it fall to the ground, not bothering to put it out with the heel of his shoe as one properly would. Dantès does not find his situation sad in the slightest, truth be told. It's probably better this way, free reign to do as he pleased without having anyone to answer to. However, he knew this was not the mindset of other servants here. Yes, he could feel their presences vaguely, but he had decided that he would pay them no mind unless he made contact with them. “Tell me, have you no master as well? How does it feel to only have yourself to answer to?”

Every so often there would be one loud, disruptive patron who made noise as they browsed the various shelves of books that were available to the public. Sometimes they didn't even come for the books though, they'd just wander in with the intention of being nothing but a bother to the librarians. Camilla, being the type of person that she was, handled situations like this fairly easily typically.

Today was turning out to be a normal day, thankfully. No interruptions, no loud chatter, overall everyone seemed to be minding their own business with their nose stuck in a book. It was peaceful, or at least it had been until the front door slams open, making just about everybody jump in their seat. Camilla stands where she is, books in her hands as she pays careful attention now to the man who had just come in.

             The boy sat, alone, at the metal-worked table situated in front of the small café, a small plate of coffee cake and a latte sitting before him. He picked at them absently, his attention more focused on the object in his hand. A book, old and worn, its canvas cover scuffed. Still, the title, embossed in gold-leaf, was clear enough: THE EPIC OF GILGAMESH. A timeless classic that Damian had read before, when he was younger, but one he did not mind reading again. His eyes flickered over the poetic lines, enraptured, even as careful fingers turned the faded pages. He was not, however, so engrossed in the novel that he didn’t notice the man that stopped before him, his long shadow falling over the boy as he blocked the sun’s light. Damian shifted his gaze from the book in his hand to the golden-haired man before him, eyes suspicious.

It began as would any other day. Enkidu woke, determined that they had no special obligations, and zeroed in on Gil’s presence. The walk was quick. Perhaps there was some sort of commotion on the periphery, but they were more concerned with reaching their friend than whatever arbitrary chaos had beset the city this time.

This nonchalance persisted until they raised their hand to alert him to their presence. Hardly had they rapped at his door when an arrow pierced through their palm, effectively pinning it in place. It disappeared in a second, leaving no visible wound, but it did result in a rather loud “thump.” 

They sensed a presence, something small and weak that was already slipping away, and decided that it was not a threat. It had not injured them. They could afford to disregard it. They knocked on the door once more for good measure, and cleared their throat.