The straw that broke my back

Move, walk, patrol. Keep his body moving so his muscles wouldn’t deteriorate. The pain that emanated from his ribs was ignorable for now, but if he pushed it too far, he would have to stop. But he didn’t want to. Keeping his distance, keeping the border safe, being in the silence. That’s what he wanted. What his brain itched for every morning when he awoke.

Indeed, Gilgamesh was different.

He didn’t know it, but also did at the same time. Something inside him told him to quit it, go back to normal, but there was something else there holding him back. It was the call that rings out that brings that tiniest of sliver of his old self back toward the surface. Flurry, yes, one of the first. One of the ones that tried. Tried what? To save them? To be better? He couldn’t agree with that completely.

Instead of dallying on the thoughts riddling his mind, Gilgamesh moves through the moor with ease. Paws pressing down upon dewy heather as he approached Flurry and an exhausted looking Modesty. Coming to take a seat beside Modesty in an upright and rigid position, nothing like how he used to sit, he looks to Flurry with stoic expression and curious eyes.

“Yes, Flurry?” He questions.