weight of living

Gilgamesh · 09-23-2021, 07:02 AM

Perhaps Gilgamesh was stupid. Compared to so many wolves on Boreas, he was naked and somewhat inexperienced. Having little time to find armor to wrap around his legs or face, he still had no fear in challenging someone of tougher mettle. Yet, the more he fought, the more he learned. Still young in his years, he was ready to prove he was worthy of something one day. So for the time being, as winter waged a war on the north, the Battlefield was his home. Blood-stained snow was familiar to him as his own tracks ran across the ground.

Sore and bruised, but mostly healed from his previous sparring, Gil was ready for another spar. Standing alone by what little means of water was left, it didn't take long for his yellow eyes to cross paths with a larger red-splotched wolf. A call rang from the muzzle and he knew he would answer. Noticing two companions and a black coat, he paused for a moment. Three on one? Could be interesting. He thought to himself.

Approaching with long strides, he waited a few feet away. There was nothing to show that Gilgamesh would be a grand opponent. Aside from the scarring on his body, he wore no armor and had no intimidating battle partners at his side. Who would turn down an easy fight? "I'll accept," the rumble of his voice expelled frost from his lips as snow began to sprinkle around them.

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