Destroying Castles In The Sky

Unfortunately for everyone, Gilgamesh had not had his memory wiped away. Unlike sand being swept from a beach by the tide or the wind, it was harder to do that to a brain. The piece of the brain called the hippocampus was nestled safely on the inside, toward the back, and Gilgamesh had well... Landed on the side of his head toward the front. What part of the brain is that you might ask? That would be the frontal lobe, and for Gilgamesh, more specifically the dorsolateral prefrontal area that does all the executive and logical decisions.

Gilgamesh may or may not be a changed man, for the better or worse.

So as he sits, quite statue-like, staring out into the distance, one would not be able to tell from first glance that anything was on his mind. That much was untrue. Everything was on his mind. Racing miles a minute, unstopping, making hard to even sleep. It was the sleep drugs that Sakana fed him in an awful mixture of something that had been the only thing to help.

As Modesty approached, his head swivels just enough to watch her. Belly bulging, looking quite exhausted herself, but just as beautiful as the day they first met. Though his expression stays unchanging, there is a slight glint of something in his eye. A hint of the old Gilgamesh that still loved Modesty more than he even loved himself.

Waiting until she's settled beside him, he finally allows himself a sigh. His body aches, his headache causing his eyes to squint, sleep biting at the edges of his conscious. "Hardly up," he manages to respond. He knows he can trust her unlike everyone else. No damage to his brain could ever force him to forget that, but he did struggle. Gilgamesh understands what's going on in her body and it is his fault, but there's no connection. How was he to love something he's never seen before? Even if they were genetically half of him, his brain struggles to comprehend, but he'll play along anyway.

"How are you managing?" He asks, absent expression revealing quite literally nothing to prove he's actually concerned, but he hopes she knows he's trying. It's difficult, but he tries for her. Slowly, he scoots just a few inches closer, leaning ever so slightly until their shoulders touch and his cheek can rest against her neck. He's still too weak to support both his own body weight and her right now, but he can still try.

The Raid King, Gilgamesh