Now that he had a pack to call his own, he was going to *enjoy* it. Having never really had a place to call "home" before was weird. He was a vagabond through and through. Never really getting along with anyone was his thing. After the ooze, that had changed. The mottled man wanted to possibly make more friends. Real friends. Not those frenemy types where he only met them to spar or hunt. What a concept. A hiccuping chuckle bubbles in his throat as he carries a bushel of sticks and dry tinder onto the black sands of Obsidian Beach. In the distance, the sun sets in an array of pinks, blues, and oranges. Finally, the sun had decided to show itself and Gil was never going to take it for granted again. Arranging the wood in a haphazard pile, he admires his work with a smirk. Good enough. Turning back to the grassy slopes that led inward, he picks up the tools necessary to light the fire. Bringing with him a few flasks of home-brewed alcohol, he returns to his pile. Drizzling some of the liquid over his sticks, he spends a few minutes flicking the piece of flint against a stone. Just like Fable had shown him that one day in the snow. Not that he would ever share with anyone that he had enjoyed making that clay bowl with the girl. Finally, he gasps as flames begin to flicker and lick up the booze, and spread. Pleased with himself, Gil sits his spotted tush upon the blackened sand and tilts his head back to take a big swig. SPEECH

Artisan's brother was dead.

The usual youthful joy he walked with was gone, the smile he wore constantly replaced by stoicism. The rising sight of flames on the shore would normally draw his interest - after all, what was a party without a campfire? - but today he could hardly give it a second thought. It was only the scent of booze that drew Artisan to Gilgamesh's side in the end.

He said very little, approaching the fire and sitting with a sigh to stare into the warm flames. "Got enough to share?" The colorful man eventually managed, holding out a paw toward his pirate companion for a share of his booze.

"Speech"

The flames of his fire grew higher into the air as sparks set off into the sky. Sat back in awe, he smirked with pride. Heat radiated off of his fire as he sat close and took another swig of the booze. A heady scent of alcohol filtered over the salty breeze; Gilgamesh welcomed it with open arms. Lost in thought and entranced by the fire, he didn't notice Artisan approach until the blue-furred man was sitting near him and holding out a paw. Recognizing that Artisan wanted him to share, Gil grunted in acceptance and grabbed the second bottle he had brought with him. Holding it out to the stoic man, he turned back to take another swig from his own bottle. "Good night for a fire, huh?" He asks as his yellow gaze flashes over to Artisan briefly. Slightly curious why he appeared somewhat dreary, Gil knew better than to press on someone's personal matters. If one wanted to drown their sorrows, then hell, Gil would drown with them.

Artisan accepted the second bottle as it was held out to him, taking a large swig and groaning as it burned his throat exactly the way he'd hoped it would. This pirate he barely knew, but any pack member who'd welcome him to his fire and share with him was booze was a good one. "It's not a good night in the slightest." He replied briskly, taking another quick sip of his drink. "I'm afraid after the Long Night, I'll never enjoy one again." Artisan's eyes lowered to the fire and he sighed. "How about you? How did you fare?" Artisan wasn't even sure why he was asking, but perhaps the draw of conversation could convince his sadness to depart if only for an evening.

"Speech"

Gil's flickered across his face before he was able to sweep them under the rug. The purpose of sitting on the beach beside the fire was to forget his sorrows. Supposedly, the world had righted itself with the coming of the sun. Everything else that had followed had been his own doing to better his life. While he still enjoyed a good tormenting of strangers from time to time, he needed a change. His own throat burned from the swishes of alcohol soothing his throat when Artisan admitted that it wasn't good with him at all. Gil's lips pursed slightly as he nodded with the little bit of sympathy he could hold for someone else. "The Long Night was a recurring nightmare that I thought I'd never leave. By the end, I truly believed I'd died and returned as a ghost," his lips curved in a foolish smile at the memory. "I suppose that's why I'm here now. I wanted something better for myself," his own admittance to terrible times was short, but all Artisan would need to know. "I'm Gilgamesh, by the way. Not sure if Sparrow shared the news or not, but you all are kind of stuck with me now," he attempted a joke, maybe in hopes it would cheer the other guy up, but as another swish of alcohol seared his throat, he figured it would be fruitless.

The other wolf did not seem to get past the Long Night any easier then any other wolf of Boreas had, and Artisan sighed in exhaustion at the memory of it. This wolf had gone so insane he thought he'd died and became a ghost? Well, at least that beat Artisan's moment of insanity where he felt salvation was within the dirt. It seemed that was why this wolf had joined them, which was as good a reason as any. "We're happy to have you." He gave back politely, taking another sip of the alcohol. "I'm Artisan. I didn't hear anything specific about your joining but, we're pretty casual anyways I think." His large shoulders gave a shrug, still staring into the fire. He let a few moments of silence pass, nursing his drink and watching the flames. "Sorry, I'm usually more fun, but it seems no matter how much I drink it doesn't bring my brother back to life."

"Speech"