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year 5, quarter 3
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I have crossed the very thresholds of space and time to find you!
My blade hungers for battle against the only one worthy of its full might!
Before the gate, I lie in wait, to settle the score with our duel of fate!
P.S.: Bring snacks!
A loud gurgle erupts from the empty belly of Gilgamesh, who moaned softly from the aching sensation it produced. ”Is the hand of destiny so cruel as to withhold even simple nourishment? Am I fated to starve and waste away?” How long was it since he had sent that letter? Days? Weeks? Time seemed difficult to keep track of lately, especially considering the warrior in strange clothes hardly took it upon himself to be proactive with such an important task.
Typical of someone with barely any functioning brain cells, Gilgamesh had only exacerbated the effects generated from the absence of food by planting himself atop the apex of an enormous stone portcullis, itself poised squarely between a pair of mountainous crags and surrounded by a cluster of smaller archways, each one carved in perfect imitation of the largest edifice in the area.
In doing so, the roving warrior failed to consider the possibility that this location suffered from an almost complete absence of endemic wildlife — meaning it was virtually impossible for Gilgamesh to strike out on a hunt for sustenance.
But, rather than get off his high horse (or arch, in this case) and do the practical thing, which was to dismount the mystical monument and find something to turn into food, stupid Gilgamesh resolved to endure a most personal battle of attrition and wait for the one whom he wrote the correspondence to. His dignity; his pride; his honor; his reputation; all of these were at stake! To succumb against the pangs of hunger before taking part in this impending clash of titans would be an act of unforgivable cowardice!
”I must persevere! Not even he can shirk the destiny carved out for us!” Bartz Klauser. Of the four mythical Light Warriors, only Bartz demonstrated the skill, the strength, the spirit to perfectly match Gilgamesh blow for blow and walk away practically unscathed. ”It is the will of the Gods themselves for us to determine which is the strongest!” Just the thought of seeing him, let alone exchanging fisticuffs with him, made the painted collector's blood positively boil with renewed vim and vigor.
Conveniently enough, Gilgamesh had perched himself just high enough to where his enormous, bulky, armored body remained hidden from the scrutiny of any who sought to pass through the area. Rather predictably, however, his empty stomach had all but locked him to the gateway's stone surface in a supine posture, the warrior's gastric fluids letting out another hideous churning rumble for additional emphasis.
”Seriously, Bartz, bring some food... I'm practically dying right now...” Gilgamesh muttered, fending off delirium. And nothing of value would be lost, if this were to actually occur.
He held the letter in his hand, and just from the flower prose he immediately knew who it was. So Gilgamesh had found his way here, looking specifically for him, and was looking for another fight? Well, that told Alex a couple things; the first being that time actually passed on the Source while he was here, which meant that he needed to start looking for some way to get back home and keep everyone from dying. With Zenos back in the game, it was up to him to keep the Scions from getting beefed. Again. He really hoped that there could be some stalling for time. Maybe Zenos would get pissy with the Ascians getting in the way and take them out. Or maybe he'd come here looking for his prey. Small wave of guilt at that; last thing he wanted was Zenos to show up and terrorize everyone here. But still, Alex looked at the letter in his hand and couldn't help but groan a little.
That didn't mean Alex didn't like Gilgamesh, not at all. Quite the opposite. He truly had nothing... permanent, against the guy. Repeated sword theft, groveling, and overall lack of timing notwithstanding, by all accounts, he had observed Gilgamesh to ultimately be a genuinely good person guy down. Like the kind of flunky who works for the evil overlord, but just doesn't have it in him to be the evil overlord himself. He'd never gotten a chance to really sit down and hash things out with the guy aside from whenever they fought, as usually they had the ill luck to be wrapped up in whatever shenanigans Hildibrand had gotten into--Oh. Did that mean Hildibrand was here too? Honestly, he wouldn't have been surprised if the Agent of Inquiry had somehow found his way to Zephon. He also had complete faith that Hildibrand, clueless as he was, would somehow manage in this world if he did. They were good people, and Alexander genuinely liked them. They were just...
Morons.
Well meaning, but ultimately, morons. Gilgamesh was well meaning but ultimately the world was gonna roll him. He wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, you know. That didn't mean he thought Gilgamesh was incompetent, either. When they first met, it took Alex and seven of his friends combining their might just to bring the giant grey ogre down, and at one point, the guy was aiming to fight a Primal and steal his massive sword and in truth, Alex wouldn't have bet against him. But Gilgamesh, or Greg, if going by Hildibrand, could be stubborn, and it didn't take him long to figure out why the ogre was asking for snacks. So, he packed some sandwiches for the guy, some beef jerky too, but Alex was just going to keep that for himself. Too good to share, you see.
So he tracked him down, and Ragnabawk made that all the easier by simply flying the Warrior of Light & Darkness there. Considering how much Gilgamesh stood out, he was able to spot him from up above rather easily. "That's Gilgamesh, all right. Oh, Twelve, here we go." But he found himself smiling. As exasperating as Gilgamesh could be, Alex did ultimately like the kabuki themed warrior. There was a soft kweh from Ragnabawk, and Alexander shook his head. "Maybe. Depends if Enkidu's there." Well, okay, maybe a chicken against a chocobo might be a bit unfair, but two-on-two was two-on-two, right?
Pulling a leg from Ragnabawk's side, Alexander found himself free falling through the air. Just do exactly as he did with Byakko, he reminded himself, as he dive-bombed towards Gilgamesh. At least until he neared the ground. He concentrated his thoughts as he conjured a burst of wind aether, using it to slow his descent as he descended ever so gently, before landing a ways away from Gilgamesh, picnic basket dangling from his left hand. "All right, Greg." In truth, while he knew it wasn't the warrior's name, Greg was just so much easier to say. "You wanted to see me?" He shook his head slightly and waved his right arm.
From the way Gilgamesh was laying, he looked like he was about to drop dead. Had he really foregone eating for so long?
Despite the invigorating warmth of the afternoon sun, Gilgamesh fluttered his eyelids rapidly as if he were about to expire from heat stroke. His incoherent mumbling is reminiscent of a drunken bar patron, except it was sheer incomparable stupidity what intoxicated the giant painted warrior past the point of dizziness. Well, that, and starvation.
”Hrghhpfthnn...” Gilgamesh sputtered eloquently, straining himself to lift a hand up the moment a shadowy speck briefly pierced through the sun's blinding light. It came closer and closer with speed so impressive, it was as if the source behind it had every intention of sending the hapless warrior to the depths of Hell itself. Gilgamesh merely allowed his eyes to shut themselves, prone and vulnerable to his impending doom at the talons of this wretched fiend close in with deadly intent.
Like a frail old woman in the middle of a blizzard, his lip shudders when a sudden gust of wind blows across his great form, yet he was too inundated by fatigue to direct those hollow, blank eyes just a little lower. ”Mnhuhhh... Bluhhss...” Gilgamesh slurs out an attempt at identifying Bartz, but his name fails to leave the giant warrior's mouth properly.
It was only when the one responsible for creating this breeze (which, admittedly, felt rather refreshing in the current moment) had called out to the delirious weapon collector that Gilgamesh felt the surge of adrenaline flood every fiber of his being: his wish had truly been granted after all! ”All right, Greg. You wanted to see me?”
As if the most sour of all chords had been struck against the keys of a piano by the corpse of some dead animal, Gilgamesh felt his aspirations terminate right then and there upon hearing Bartz refer to him by some preposterous name. Greg?!! Impossible! Inconceivable! Incomprehensible! Other related synonyms! How could his one and only companion-slash-competitor forget the identity of the greatest, most clever and powerful warrior of all existence to stand with him on equal footing?!
”Greg!?!” Gilgamesh repeats his initial thought aloud, throwing himself into a standing posture without any kind of warning. A rare variety of anger simmered behind those milky white spaces for eyes, something not even he could have anticipated would emerge, but the circumstances had changed for the worse. An explanation must be had! ”How could you forget my name so easily, Bartz?! After everything that we've been through together!”
A curtain of awkward silence falls over him as he glances over the person standing before him. Blond hair. Amber eyes. Clothes that looked like they were lifted straight out of some third-rate graphic novel for brooding teenagers. Gilgamesh hadn't expected Bartz to make such drastic changes of appearance; was this some kind of phase?
The answer would have to wait for now, as the simpleton's gut let forth a most savage growl. Having recognized the picnic basket dangling from Bartz's right hand, Gilgamesh took it as an invitation to immediately shower his fated rival — who clearly wasn't Bartz — with overwhelming gratitude. Any frustration or irritation he felt vanished without a single trace. ”Bartz, you're a godsend! I've been famished for too long!” His smile is wide and dopey, as the stranger was undoubtedly familiar with, yet it would become quickly apparent that all was not as it seemed at first. He was swift to replace with a confused grimace before opining, ”But, uh, I'm not quite sure I understand your shift in wardrobe tastes. You used to wear so much color!”
As if Gilgamesh actually cared about things like fashion, but he was too busy suffering from the delusions caused by his lack of nutrients. And sleep. And common sense. Didn't he used to have a chocobo, as well?
Yep, it was Gilgamesh. No more doubt about any of that, right down to the same personality. Overdramatic as always, but everyone had their own flair, right? Still, even with all that, Alex couldn't help but be reminded of the fact that even Gilgamesh was rendered into the Straight Man whenever Hildibrand was around. Which, speaking of, where even was that guy? Between him and Gilgamesh and Nashu, they tended to go pretty much anywhere and bumble their way through solving crime. Maybe they'd wandered off. ... Well, no, he had a feeling that sooner or later, he'd find the inspector's legs sticking out of the ground. It was inevitable, as inevitable as the sun rising and setting, unless someone was going to put a stop to all that, anyway. So he was content to let the ogre talk and well, it kind of threw him off. Like, a lot.
Color? Alexander raises an eyebrow as he shuffles a little, his pitch black outfit shifting with him. His free hand grabs the hem of the coat, raising it up a little before he lets it fall. Now that Gilgamesh mentioned it, it was a little... monotone. Well, compared to what the ogre was wearing. But everything would seem monotone compared to that. "... Look, the initial colors for the dragon I killed for this didn't mesh with the black scales and gold trimming." Rathalos seemed fine on the surface, but the armor made from its hide and scales... ugh, faded red with patches of jet black that wouldn't go away no matter what color he dyed it? Besides, he looked good in black! And he had been rebuilding his wardrobe which had many more colors! That and all the effort he put into wailing on Odin until... he looked at his gauntlets for that. Bah, let Gilgamesh think what he wants, he worked hard for this, dammit!
Greg's indignation to Greg though, got no reaction. That was what he expected. Gilgamesh always got ruffled when Hildibrand called him that. Also got ruffled when Hildibrand called him Jim during that brief Yojimbo phase of Gilgamesh's. Alex should've really taken Daigoro as a pet when that happened. Still, the Warrior of Light holds out the picnic basket for Gilgamesh to take, a series of sandwiches of different meats and cheeses. "I made sandwhiches for you. You said bring snacks, so I figured you were starving yourself as some kind of warrior's code." Yeah, that sounded like Gilgamesh, alright. He does look around however, noticing no sign of the green chicken. "... Did you eat Enkidu already?" That chicken just had the worst luck, didn't it? Still, it was better than the ogre summoning a godsdamned Primal based on "I really miss my buddy" alone. Well, that and crystals. Primals were when Alexander had to actually take things seriously.
He looks around again. "And I can see Hildibrand isn't--wait, hold on," And that's when it clicked as he narrowed his eyes at Gilgamesh. "Did you call me Butz?" Really? Calling him something so demeaning! What had gotten into him! Normally Alexander would just write it off as amnesia, but Gilgamesh obviously remembered him, or Alex wouldn't have gotten that letter! He's still holding out the picnic basket, but he's also tapping his foot, as if waiting for an explanation. The world may not roll Gilgamesh right now, but Alex was sure about to! Okay, maybe just maybe. This was just more classic Gilgamesh, he figured.
Classic Bartz, always striving to improve himself and further his abilities in battle! Such assertiveness was exactly the kind of quality Gilgamesh admired from his sworn adversary and companion, even if the feeling wasn't exactly mutual. And it wasn't — but neither he, nor his 'rival', seemed to be aware of the growing number of discrepancies between their respective recollections of one another.
The nebulous powers that be must be weeping for them both right about now.
”I made sandwiches for you. You said bring snacks, so I figured you were starving yourself as some kind of warrior's code.” Gilgamesh tilts his head in confusion at the mention of these so-called 'sandwiches', unsure of what Bartz meant by the term, yet determined enough to throw his ever-restless imagination aside if it meant being able to cram food down his gullet. ”Nonsense! I was merely waiting for you for so long, I had worried you might have forgotten about me and would never show up!” And that would have been so tragic. Almost as much as it would have been if Gilgamesh had actually succumbed against a dark urge to consume the flesh of his most loyal companion, Enkidu — where was that feathery lout, by the way?! ”That you accuse me of supping on the flesh of my treasured friend is equally preposterous!” He had no idea that Bartz (or the person he was repeatedly mistaking for him) possessed a considerably different memory of Enkidu.
These sharp contrasts in recollection would be challenged even further, as soon as the Light Warrior glared daggers in Gilgamesh's direction before saying, ”And I can see that Hildibrand isn't--wait, hold on. Did you call me Butz?”
”What?” The buffoon's reply is quick and pointed. ”No, I called you Bartz! BAHR-tz! Hard 'arr', like a pirate!” Reminded of something else, Gilgamesh mirrored his rival's curiosity with a couple of puzzled glances. ”Speaking of which, where are they, anyway? Farrah, was it? Ferry? Ferrigno?” The sword collector's efforts to remember his past were as plain as the pitiful, gruesome faces he made trying to do so, but eventually, Gilgamesh snaps his fingers abruptly and gasps from the revelation. ”Ah, Faris! That's who that was! Where is he, by the way? Probably out plundering all that glorious booty, am I right!?” He lets loose an ungraceful, thunderous laugh from the pit of his empty belly, only to cringe from yet another invasive hunger pang.
Alexander Sorel ●YAR HAR, FIDDLE DEE DEE, IT SURE IS FUN HAVING NO MEMORY ● 407 words
MADE BY MIZO
FF XIV
31
YEARS
Male
Single
Heterosexual
251 POSTS
WAGA
Seventy? Only seventy thousand? Hells, my subligar's worth more than that!
Alex could only quirk a brow at that one. Hell, Greg himself had admitted he'd eaten the green chicken! Granted, this was right before said green chicken popped right back up, none the worse for wear, so that made things a bit complicated. "Wouldn't be the first time, you did it before when you were gallavanting around as Jim." He really did have to give the man... or ogre, really, some credit. When Gilgamesh really put his mind to something, it took a lot to actually dissuade him. Considering the kind of reputation he'd managed to acquire during his time as Jim (allowing him to charge ludicrously high prices), it was never a good idea to assume that Greg was just some kind of buffoon that couldn't do anything right. At least, not on the Source.
But then he brought up the pirate, and well, one would think that would be the big reveal that no, they were thinking completely different people, however, by sheer fortune, or perhaps misfortune, Alex tilted his head. "Faris? You mean Finnley?" Yes, Finnley Zalideux, a pirate he'd once met during his travels. It's just... there was one problem with what Gilgamesh had told him. "Finnley was a woman." Or, to be more accurate, Finnley had been a woman masquerading as a man, so taking that into consideration, he could see how Greg had managed to confuse Finnley for a man, considering he'd managed to confuse Hildibrand for a gorgeous woman. Really, how anyone could have been fooled by that disguise had been completely beyond him.
Still, Alex is not without compassion, and when he hears that hunger pang again, he simply offers up the basket. "Look, eat up, if you're serious about this, I can wait a little." Besides, if it was a good way to keep Greg out of trouble, then he'd indulge him at least. He'd learned his lesson from the last time he wanted a rematch, considering how far he was willing to go to make it happen. Nope, it was best just to give the guy what he wanted. Besides, it'd be good to catch up with him.
”Wouldn't be the first time, you did it before when you were gallivanting around as Jim.” Visibly flustered, Gilgamesh could only blink his eyes. Who was this 'Jim' figure he spoke of, and why would the greatest swordsman to ever exist feel the need to impersonate some common stranger? What compelled his eternal rival into believing he was ruthless enough as to dine on his most loyal companion for sustenance? Where on Earth was Bartz coming up with all of this baloney?
To find himself on the receiving end of a sharp criticism regarding the identity of Faris Scherwiz, another Light Warrior who partied with Bartz to bring an end to Exdeath's plans of total negation, brought Gilgamesh from the realm of general confusion into a mindset of genuine, solemn concern. Never mind that they were thinking of completely different people altogether; just the name 'Ferriday' proved sufficient enough to make this normally clueless buffoon's heart swell with suspicion.
”Look, eat up, if you're serious about this, I can wait a little.” True, the basket of finger foods appeared to be the image of temptation itself, but Gilgamesh was a man of integrity before instinct -- that Bartz had failed to recall his own companion's name seemed a most dubious ploy, a trick of the mind, possibly to lower his guard or, worse yet, steal his valuable treasures!
”And wait, you shall!” Gilgamesh effortlessly flips his lumbering form over and back to his feet, the bite of starvation fended off by sheer willpower alone. Within those pale white spaces for eyes, the fires of skepticism and doubt burned bright and hot. ”It has now become transparent that my letter did not arrive to its intended destination.” This conveniently disregarded the fact that Gilgamesh had not penned the correspondence properly. ”While I do not comprehend the will of the Gods, what I can understand most perfectly is when I've been had for an egregious fool!” Well, he wasn't wrong about the 'egregious fool' part, although citations are heavily needed here.
It seems the misunderstanding has been laid bare for the duo to examine more closely, and it was ironically Gilgamesh to call this discrepancy to attention. But rather than handle the situation like a regular person might, the halfwit warrior did the only thing he was good at: like the world's most inept Dragoon, he simply jumped to conclusions.
He conjures his favorite weapon, the naginata, and thrusts the Oriental blade in the direction of this impostor in dark clothes. His next question left with a strangely uncharacteristic tone that even Gilgamesh himself would have considered threatening, were it not for the gravity of the issue at hand. ”Who are you, and what have you done to Bartz?”
Well, now everything started to make sense. No, no he was not this Bartz, and Gilgamesh was confusing him for someone else. It all started to click for the Warrior of Light. Greg had his memories of Alex wiped. Alex felt that familiar surge of disappointment within. Nearly every time he had met someone from his world, they had usually forgotten who he was. He'd feel sad if it wasn't becoming a familiar pain by now. Alex stared at the naginata. Right, so Gilgamesh wasn't exactly jumping to battle then, that much was good. He could handle that. Well, in this case, it was probably best to defuse the situation before it got any worse. Or just drive Greg up the wall, that worked too. Or both, yeah, both seemed like a good idea. Welp, might as well get started on that. If nothing else, keeping the guy on the defensive was usually enough to keep him from doing something... impulsive. Yeah, he'd use that word.
So, Alex pointed an accusatory finger at Greg, seemingly unphased by the naginata being aimed right at the guy. "Oh, is that how it is?!" He took on an offended tone. "All that talk of eternal rivalry and bound by destiny and then you just go and do the same thing with some wench named Bartz?" He sounded like a jilted lover! Well, sort of, he knew that would likely work at least, if that lovely scene of Thancred being jumped by several of his paramours was anything to go by. When even that bard couldn't smooth talk his way out of it, well, it had to be good for wrongfooting someone, right?
He kept the basket away from Greg, he would just allow it to tempt the ogre. "And what would Lycoris think? She really liked you, you know!" Well, more like he amused her greatly, but hey, semantics, right? Even something like that was better than being hated. She also wasn't in this world so far as he knew but shh... he wouldn't tell Greg that. "Is that what you're going to do? Make a lady cry?" At least he figured that was a sore spot for Greg. From what he had seen of his time as Jim, Greg was very adamant about not harming a lady... even if said lady was Hildibrand in a Geisha outfit. How he fell for that one, Alex had no idea.
”All that talk of eternal rivalry and bound by destiny and then you just go and do the same thing with some wench named Bartz?” Such brazen insolence! Gilgamesh could feel the anger swelling within his chest, the grip against his blade's haft tightening as though he were ready to snap the weapon in twain. The giant's face remained unflinching like stone, his lips turned into a visible scowl of contempt for this pompous pretender in black.
How dare he speak so poorly of his closest companion-slash-eternal rival? Bartz was a precious friend to Gilgamesh, a warrior as peerless and mighty as himself, and this basket-holding basket case had the audacity, the nerve, to compare him to some cheap tavern floozy?! ”And what would Lycoris think? She really liked you, you know! Is that what you're going to do? Make a lady cry?” More lies from the serpent's tongue, the slithering ebony devil who speaks of maidens that Gilgamesh had no knowledge nor awareness of!
”Insult me all you like, creature, I know myself better than anyone,” said Gilgamesh, low and serious, no longer concerned with the contents of his wicker basket, which this impostor waved and dangled behind him like a sadistic child. Had anyone ever seen the crimson swordsman discard the mask of bumbling lunacy he typically wore? ”You mock me, you insult my memories, you tempt my starving stomach with false promises of culinary reprieve... You are no man, but a vile demon of the lowest order.” His milky white spaces for eyes glistened with the intent to murder. ”I will not stand for your deceptions any longer!”
The naginata thrusts itself forward, aiming for the deceiver's brow. Whether it hit or missed, Gilgamesh would show him no quarter regardless and spun his armored frame into a dervish of mighty sweeping attacks, expecting this monster in human skin to defend itself with whatever tricks were hidden beneath that pitiful excuse of a skirt.
So much for conflict resolution...
Alexander Sorel ● GILGAMADNESS™ 2: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO ● 331 words
MADE BY MIZO
FF XIV
31
YEARS
Male
Single
Heterosexual
251 POSTS
WAGA
Seventy? Only seventy thousand? Hells, my subligar's worth more than that!
Alex blinked in confusion as his trolling backfired on him, to the surprise of no one but him. Well, he hadn't expected that. Gilgamesh wasn't usually so... quick to anger. Even when Hildibrand kept getting his name wrong, eventually the guy just accepted it and started calling Hildibrand "Hildy" out of affection. If Gilgamesh had amnesia... did that mean that there was a time when he wasn't so mellow? Well, mellow for Gilgamesh. He was still a ham, but he was a rather affable ham. On the bright side, if he didn't remember any of that, then that meant that he likely didn't remember how to use Zanmato and thank the Twelve for that! As adorable as Daigoro could be, watching that komainu gather up the gil to power Zanmato always put Alex on edge.
Fortunately, it seemed Gilgamesh wasn't taking him seriously, instead preferring to just stab with the Naginata. It was an easy dodge. Even without the Echo, Alex had tumbled with Gilgamesh enough to know how he worked, and it became clear how stacked this would be; Alex remembered everything, Greg didn't. In one swift motion, his arm retreated from the basket, only to insert his hand under the bottom to keep it from falling. His body twisted as the naginata came closer, watching the weapon slide right by him as he raised the basket, causing the naginata to loop right through it and hook the sandwiches.
And that was that. No counter attack, no drawing of weapons, nothing. He just simply shrugged at the ogre. "Oh, no, you have managed to swipe the food from me with your daring skill. Now eat your spoils, you donkey." Gilgamesh was stubborn, he knew that much, but well, this was taking it a bit far, wasn't it? Well, if nothing else, he supposed Gilgamesh was getting the rematch he'd wanted. Just... not with the guy or girl he was looking for.
