[closed] it's a kind of magic.

[babbylon]

CHARACTERS: Gilgamesh and Keats

DATE: Backdated to late December.

WARNINGS: Gilgamesh talking extensively about himself, which... may very well qualify as a warning.

SUMMARY: An interview with the King of Heroes! Could this prove the scoop of the century?

[He's set out the wine, he's set out the chairs, he's set out the tools of the trade—a golden typewriter and lavish parchment, surely the envy of skeptical reporters everywhere. Now, Gilgamesh waits in his room, sipping at the rim of his glass and watching the door.

Though not usually the sort to grant interviews, Gilgamesh was as starved for attention as ever, and the thought of properly informing the masses on the extent of his greatness proved too much of a temptation. Granted, it was already obvious with a single glance, but some needed that extra push, he supposed.

So did Keats, for that matter. But it would become clear to the man just who and just what he was dealing with soon enough. Even the most cynical individual would be forced to admit it: this truly was a glorious King of Heroes that stood before them.

His head perks up at the sound of footsteps, and he addresses his guest with a sharp command:]

Come in. You've kept me waiting.

Comments

[headlining]

[The first word that comes to Keats' mind when he enters isn't "lavish", "great", "extraordinary", or "glorious".]

[It's "tryhard".]

Sorry. [He says, with little emotion behind the word, eyes poring over the incredibly rich scene. The golden typewriter grabs his full attention though, and he wanders over to it to give it a lookover. It's a good typewriter, though, honestly, Keats could've done without the whole, well, gold thing.]

[He lifts up his head finally to give Gilgamesh a smile. Even if this man is the most pretentious Sumerian fanboy in the world, that still doesn't take away that he's getting to do what he loves, which is being a jerk writing.]

[He digs into his pockets to pull out his tape recorder, placing it next to the typewriter, and takes a seat.]

Anyways, sorry about that, but I suppose you're ready, now? I'll be asking you a series of questions. If you aren't comfortable with any of them, you can decline to comment.

Understood?

[babbylon]

[To be fair, "tryhard" was a fairly accurate descriptor for this man.

Gilgamesh, in return, glances at Keats lazily, like a lion considering what it might have for dinner, or a tiger that's relaxing after a fresh kill. There's enough power in a single finger to send him flying to his miserable end but Gilgamesh has long since stopped reveling in the realities of his strength; instead it's this languid regard that will prevail, that this man might live or die before him and he couldn't care less either way.

Airily, he gestures at the typewriter, and so succinctly states:]

Begin.

[All's fair, it would so seem. At least Keats would not claim to be bored by the end of it, so Gilgamesh haughtily believes.]

[headlining]

[Gilgamesh could have the power to create worlds and declare himself a god, and Keats wouldn't blink an eye. In fact, he'd still be unimpressed. The more people show off, he thinks, the more they're trying to hid how secretly insecure they are, or something. Nobody does stuff like this unless they're a) incredibly narcissistic, b) incredibly self-loathing, or c) all of the above.]

[He reaches over to click the tape recorder on, placing it near the edge closest to Gilgamesh.]

This is Keats, reporting for Unknown realm magazine. [He looks up, giving Gilgamesh a nod.] State your name and occupation for the record, please.

[babbylon]

[Reporting for Unknown Realms magazine? Huh. He was really doing this by-the-letter. That sort of dedication was almost admirable, in a sense. But Gilgamesh doesn't particularly care so long as the facts are accurate and the reporting's nonbiased, so he overlooks it and does as instructed.]

Gilgamesh. King of Heroes.

[And a thousand other titles, besides, but Keats would understand none of them, so he leaves them out. Best just to stick with the most well-known.]

[headlining]

[Despite his own opinions on the things he reports on, Keats does take his job very seriously, indeed - he reaches forward and starts to type, the sound of clacking keys filling the room.]

Gilgamesh...alright. Now, tell me, are you the very same Gilgamesh from Sumerian and Akkadian myth? If that is so, are all the myths true?