something bout you...

Gilgamesh had not slept in days aside from an exhausted nap here and there. Always woken shortly by tormenting nightmares full of fireflies, crumbling statues, and lava spilling from a worm's mouth. He did not try to hide the wild look in his eyes. Bloodshot and dry, he doesn't believe he could cry even if he tried. His stomach rumbles with hunger and his chest aches with incessant paranoia. Every shadow, every bend, he was there waiting for the right moment to take him.

Shallow breaths, half-turned ears, and fur bristled and unkempt, Gilgamesh is an image of fear. He can't stop. Not after investigating the metal spears that had erupted from the ground after the tremors. And now? Wolves were discussing winding channels in Auster. What had developed on his journey down was peculiar and terrifying all the same. His breath catches in his throat as he peers at the tunnel opening beneath him. If he and his companion, Urtur, hadn't been paying attention, they would've fallen in. They share a knowing look between each other before descending into the dark.

"speech"