[ the flower cat is doing wonders to keep Gilgamesh something resembling mellow. ]
I never said I wanted it or not. I'm simply perplexed as to why you made me a cake. Usually you do your level best to either ignore me or be vaguely hostile towards me, so you suddenly coming with baked goods is very intriguing.
[ this might be a two hand scratch project. Para's widdle chin is also very itchable. ]
And yet it feels so personal to me. I'm almost convinced I did something to you at some point.
[ there's a wry look to him as he continues to fixate on the widdle itty baby kittums so that Waver can continue to shore up his bravado--or because, y'know. kibby. ]
Call me surprised to hear that. I'm beginning to wonder if I'm in some sort of danger I've yet to perceive--Bean Man's little cat girl also turned up at my door with a peace offering. Am I dying? If I'm dying I'd like to know so I've time to plan a decent funeral--I'm thinking champagne fountains and women clad in veils in ceiling cages.
[ he's been too sincere lately. it's time to be annoying. ]
You personally? No, you have done nothing to me. [yet]
And while I seriously doubt anything on heaven or earth would actually get rid of you, I thought it would have been nice to be sure you and Vittore both had a little extra energy. I can cook, it's a skill I utilize to maintain my own magical energy, so here I am.
Then why did we spend about a year in a sort of teeth-grit game of ignoring one another as pointedly as possible? [ yet. ]
Vittore ate your curry like a man possessed. It served him very well. [ time to tattle on Vergil; it's one of Gil's favorite hobbies. ] He ate all of it before I had a chance to be corporeal for any stretch of time, the greedy bastard.
So. Cake. Is there a catch to the cake? Things are settled enough and I'm back to solid, am I not?
Bluntly: because your face alone calls to mind several of the worst experiences of my life. Which is hardly your own fault, hence why I am making the desperate effort to act normal about the whole thing.
...There's no catch. If you want it, take it. If not, I'll take it home myself.
Oh, take a ticket and get in line, won't you. [ ... there's a certain lilt to his voice--almost like he's teasing Waver instead of mocking him, but the jury's out as to what intention the King's wearing today.
maybe it's the weed cat putting him in a splendid mood. maybe he's had to confront some things about himself recently.
it's probably the weed though. ]
How am I to trust something that's come from someone who's professed to dislike me to the point that he can't even see my face for how handsome it is? [ as he straightens out, hand on his hip, considering Waver. ] I suppose you'll have to eat a piece with me to prove it's not been tampered with.
I'll even share my wine with you, as a show of good faith.
I doubt the poison would do much, given that I'm a ghost. Laxatives, on the other hand--
[ likely also wouldn't do much but he's having fun seeing Waver's nerve and going poke poke poke right at it, despite the weed cat's best efforts. maybe he's unfortunately an annoying prick when he's in a good mood naturally--the world boggles all the same. ]
We can either take over Vittore's kitchen or I suppose I could see you inside my teapot.
[he said, huffing in all the annoyance of a smartass nineteen year old. Paracelsus hopped his way right up on hos trainer's shoulder, practically oblivious and just happy to be here.]
Of course you aren't. You are, however, British, which speaks to a cultural level of petty vindictiveness offset only by a love of orderly queuing and empire-building.
[ pot, meet kettle, you'll fit nicely in the teahouse. Gilgamesh gives a little shrug, then, and waves for Waver to follow him as he goes a few rooms over to where a fancy teapot sits on a display pillow. ]
Close your eyes and let the magic take you, if you've not used one of these before.
[ he's going to be smug about it all the way up to the mansion.
there's a little commotion as the little cotorie of beasts observe the two men wandering in with a sort of good natured fascination--the chocobo dozes contentedly in its little leanto, and a tiny cactus appears to be waddle-jogging his way around a pond with a Big Ass Goldfish. Gil neatly sidesteps Humbaba the Wo-Chien as it tries to bite him, holding the door open for Waver as he allows the man into his House Full of Expensive Gaudy Shit... with Caveats Because Sampo's Doing His Best, Damn It. ]
Have things been fairly peaceful, then? I've mostly been sleeping and catching up on my damned emails. [ and trying to resist Sampo's incessant desire to speed through fifteen years of Doing Stuff. he's failing that one. ]
[ the goldfish was Chi-Yu and its big ol' eyes, so it gets worse the longer you think about it. ]
Good. Maybe we can have a fortnight before something new explodes and people's heads are turned into pumpkins or something equally inane.
[ living in interesting times sucks and Gilgamesh is gonna poke around his kitchen to find plates and silverware, lazily setting the table and flopping into a chair without much preamble.
he'll then open his hand as a Gate forms above it. ]
Are there any other boiling pots about to bubble over that I should know about? It's wonderfully frustrating to look away for what seems like ten minutes, and then by the time I look back, four different people are grievously injured.
[ his head tips at that hitch in Waver's voice, that suppressed twinge in his demeanor--and blessedly decides not to comment on it as a golden jug and a pair of goblets descend from the Gate to Gil's waiting hands. he sets them in front of himself to fill them in equal measure, and then lifts one to sit next to Waver's thusfar empty plate. ]
I...don't think there's anything else, at least. Not at the moment.
[Right. Of course he kept everything under the sun in there, not just a million swords. Another deep breath, and he set out a meticulously made and evenly sliced castella cake, setting out a piece on Gilgamesh's plate before taking one himself.]
[...And then cutting his own in half, because Paracelsus was sitting there with the big cute snack expecting eyes.]
I'm holding you personally accountable if something irritating happens in the coming weeks. You will know the shape of my wrath tenfold.
[ he says it in a deadpan as he picks up a fork, despite his overtures about laxatives and so on earlier, taking a bite of the cake while Waver pays the castilla tax. ]
So what is it about the Gate that puts you on such edge.
[ to be fair, Gil's wrath has so far manifested as sending an industrial pallet full of canned beans to Takame so it's a good read and reaction. ]
So no one else in this city has sense, is what you're confirming? No one else has bat an eye at me pulling random objects and bits of weaponry out of the portals.
With all respect, none of them have ever seen you as an enemy. I'm very well aware my unease is irrational; if I didn't realize that, I wouldn't even be here.
[this emotional support cat could not be happier]
Separating the person in front of me now from the Archer and even Caster I know is not an easy task, but I have been trying to at least manage a good faith effort. If you find fault in that, there isn't a lot more I can do right away.
'Tis brave enough of you to try, even though it's well over a year overdue.
[ look at that little weed cat scarf that cake.
the other cats are going to come investigate what's happening on their table--though only the dainty calico approaching Para to give him a good sniff is corporeal. the pair of ghosts are sticking their faces through Gilgamesh's wrists and into the cake to little effect.
having Waver say the quiet part outright is... interesting. he's not sure what to call the sudden emotion it pings in him. amusement. annoyance? indignation? ]
I mean, I see the divisions between myself, Archer, and Caster as plain as I see the hair on your head. If there's a question you wish to ask, you may ask it.
[god why are you a disney princess and magnet for weird shit.]
Like I said--it's irrational. I know it is. It's plain as day right now that you're someone else, and I want to understand that more clearly rather than be a hypocritical fool about the matter. If there's something you want to explain in clear terms, then you have an attentive audience.
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I never said I wanted it or not. I'm simply perplexed as to why you made me a cake. Usually you do your level best to either ignore me or be vaguely hostile towards me, so you suddenly coming with baked goods is very intriguing.
[ this might be a two hand scratch project. Para's widdle chin is also very itchable. ]
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[mrrrp?]
Just because you irritate me doesn't mean I want you to disappear.
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[ there's a wry look to him as he continues to fixate on the widdle itty baby kittums so that Waver can continue to shore up his bravado--or because, y'know. kibby. ]
Call me surprised to hear that. I'm beginning to wonder if I'm in some sort of danger I've yet to perceive--Bean Man's little cat girl also turned up at my door with a peace offering. Am I dying? If I'm dying I'd like to know so I've time to plan a decent funeral--I'm thinking champagne fountains and women clad in veils in ceiling cages.
[ he's been too sincere lately. it's time to be annoying. ]
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And while I seriously doubt anything on heaven or earth would actually get rid of you, I thought it would have been nice to be sure you and Vittore both had a little extra energy. I can cook, it's a skill I utilize to maintain my own magical energy, so here I am.
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Vittore ate your curry like a man possessed. It served him very well. [ time to tattle on Vergil; it's one of Gil's favorite hobbies. ] He ate all of it before I had a chance to be corporeal for any stretch of time, the greedy bastard.
So. Cake. Is there a catch to the cake? Things are settled enough and I'm back to solid, am I not?
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...There's no catch. If you want it, take it. If not, I'll take it home myself.
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maybe it's the weed cat putting him in a splendid mood. maybe he's had to confront some things about himself recently.
it's probably the weed though. ]
How am I to trust something that's come from someone who's professed to dislike me to the point that he can't even see my face for how handsome it is? [ as he straightens out, hand on his hip, considering Waver. ] I suppose you'll have to eat a piece with me to prove it's not been tampered with.
I'll even share my wine with you, as a show of good faith.
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[Deep breath. Thank god the mediator cat is happily purring away.]
I suppose that's fair enough.
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[ likely also wouldn't do much but he's having fun seeing Waver's nerve and going poke poke poke right at it, despite the weed cat's best efforts. maybe he's unfortunately an annoying prick when he's in a good mood naturally--the world boggles all the same. ]
We can either take over Vittore's kitchen or I suppose I could see you inside my teapot.
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[he said, huffing in all the annoyance of a smartass nineteen year old. Paracelsus hopped his way right up on hos trainer's shoulder, practically oblivious and just happy to be here.]
Whichever you prefer.
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[ pot, meet kettle, you'll fit nicely in the teahouse. Gilgamesh gives a little shrug, then, and waves for Waver to follow him as he goes a few rooms over to where a fancy teapot sits on a display pillow. ]
Close your eyes and let the magic take you, if you've not used one of these before.
[ the lion prefers his den, of course. ]
1/2
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[Into the teapot we go.]
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there's a little commotion as the little cotorie of beasts observe the two men wandering in with a sort of good natured fascination--the chocobo dozes contentedly in its little leanto, and a tiny cactus appears to be waddle-jogging his way around a pond with a Big Ass Goldfish. Gil neatly sidesteps Humbaba the Wo-Chien as it tries to bite him, holding the door open for Waver as he allows the man into his House Full of Expensive Gaudy Shit... with Caveats Because Sampo's Doing His Best, Damn It. ]
Have things been fairly peaceful, then? I've mostly been sleeping and catching up on my damned emails. [ and trying to resist Sampo's incessant desire to speed through fifteen years of Doing Stuff. he's failing that one. ]
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Uh...fairly, I think. [god he hates rich people so much.]I was asleep for a day or two before catching up myself.
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Good. Maybe we can have a fortnight before something new explodes and people's heads are turned into pumpkins or something equally inane.
[ living in interesting times sucks and Gilgamesh is gonna poke around his kitchen to find plates and silverware, lazily setting the table and flopping into a chair without much preamble.
he'll then open his hand as a Gate forms above it. ]
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A fortnight, maybe, but I wouldn't count on the quiet lasting much longer than-...than that.
[The brief hitch in his voice came, of course, from the sight of the Gate of Babylon and the rapidly repressed urge to flinch.]
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Are there any other boiling pots about to bubble over that I should know about? It's wonderfully frustrating to look away for what seems like ten minutes, and then by the time I look back, four different people are grievously injured.
[ his head tips at that hitch in Waver's voice, that suppressed twinge in his demeanor--and blessedly decides not to comment on it as a golden jug and a pair of goblets descend from the Gate to Gil's waiting hands. he sets them in front of himself to fill them in equal measure, and then lifts one to sit next to Waver's thusfar empty plate. ]
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[Right. Of course he kept everything under the sun in there, not just a million swords. Another deep breath, and he set out a meticulously made and evenly sliced castella cake, setting out a piece on Gilgamesh's plate before taking one himself.]
[...And then cutting his own in half, because Paracelsus was sitting there with the big cute snack expecting eyes.]
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[ he says it in a deadpan as he picks up a fork, despite his overtures about laxatives and so on earlier, taking a bite of the cake while Waver pays the castilla tax. ]
So what is it about the Gate that puts you on such edge.
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Is there a reason it shouldn't? Most anyone with sense would be on edge around a door to endless power.
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So no one else in this city has sense, is what you're confirming? No one else has bat an eye at me pulling random objects and bits of weaponry out of the portals.
[ more cake for the cake demigod. ]
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[this emotional support cat could not be happier]
Separating the person in front of me now from the Archer and even Caster I know is not an easy task, but I have been trying to at least manage a good faith effort. If you find fault in that, there isn't a lot more I can do right away.
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[ look at that little weed cat scarf that cake.
the other cats are going to come investigate what's happening on their table--though only the dainty calico approaching Para to give him a good sniff is corporeal. the pair of ghosts are sticking their faces through Gilgamesh's wrists and into the cake to little effect.
having Waver say the quiet part outright is... interesting. he's not sure what to call the sudden emotion it pings in him. amusement. annoyance? indignation? ]
I mean, I see the divisions between myself, Archer, and Caster as plain as I see the hair on your head. If there's a question you wish to ask, you may ask it.
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Like I said--it's irrational. I know it is. It's plain as day right now that you're someone else, and I want to understand that more clearly rather than be a hypocritical fool about the matter. If there's something you want to explain in clear terms, then you have an attentive audience.
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