epidemiology | [closed] I am your lion.

[ Given Alice's stature and not at all expecting a lion to rub itself against her, Alice nearly teeters over. Thankfully, she catches herself and promptly steadies her weight with bracing an arm out. She's mindful about her costume as well. Gently, she rubs the giant cat's ear with a soft voice, as if she was speaking to a cat that would fit in her lap. ]

Well, hello to you too, you great oaf. How are you?

[ Alice nearly forgets about Gilgamesh. Unsure eyes dart back over to him as she rubs the lions face. ]

Why on earth do you have a lion, anyway?

[Apparently she has the magic touch as well as the magic tongue. Shishi calms almost immediately and lies gentle as could be at her feet, nudging at her legs with his head. Gilgamesh would look astounded, but he also half-expected this to happen.]

A reward from ALASTAIR. For good work, I was told.

[Good work with the mass murder and mayhem, anyway. Gilgamesh trots up to the both of them but otherwise lets Alice spoil Shishi with attention.]

Did you not receive anything yourself?

[ He really is like an overgrown lap cat. Alice eventually lowers herself completely to his level, careful to mind her dress. Rubbing his head, Alice begins to softly coo to the cat. ]

Oh, my goodness, you're acting as if you haven't had attention in years. You silly thing, you

[ She glances back up with Gilgamesh with a bit of a frown. ]

... I wouldn't know what to ask for. I don't need anything, I'm happy with what I have.

[ Above all, Alice was a modest person. Her "work" wouldn't be good enough in her eyes. ]

[The difference in her behavior is certainly marked. That slight scowl's reserved completely for him, he can tell, not the cat. Shishi melts in her grip and rumbles softly; for how massive he was, she was in no danger here. That much was obvious, and eventually the beast rolls on its back to beg for bellyrubs.

Animals, then. Animals were the key. He makes a note to bringing Shishi along whenever he visits. He assumes it's alright to sit next to her with her guard down like this, so he does. Slowly, just in case he happened to startle her anyway. How strangle it was for him to be so mindful of space.]

Yes. You seemed like that sort of person.

[It's a softer judgment than he ordinarily offers. A modest girl, a troubled girl, the same one that swung the knife.]

Still, if you should seek combat again, you should also seek a means to protect yourself. It would be for the best.

I don't seek combat, combat seems to seek me.

[ Alice actually hates to fight, but will do so if pushed. She was surrounded by fighters who were more skilled than a girl who used to be in an asylum. The thought makes her sad -- she couldn't be like the people her her father's stories. ]

Goodness! Oh, you poor creature, look at you, you'll soil yourself with dirt! You better not get that on me.

[ Belly rubs are fine, she doesn't care at all. She uses her hair to mask the fact she gives a soft smile. ]

Perhaps, but I still would like to avoid it. I'm not a knight or a swordsman, I'm not very skilled.

[Eventually, Shishi comes to curl up and settle quietly at her heels. He has gone from ill-tempered beast to contented housecat in a matter of minutes and Gilgamesh should be angry for it. He should be, but he just laughs a little instead. They both look at peace and even the great tyrant must admit it is an appealing image.]

You know, that's true of many Heroes. That they would shun combat and even conflict if they could, yet it finds them anyway.

[Not true of himself, obviously, but true of some others. Others like King Arthur, who agonized over that lonely hill to her very end.]

Part of what makes someone heroic is their temperament towards such things. Not necessarily their skill.

I know.

[ Alice will never be able to feel like she belongs in society as a result. She doubts her mind and actions. As tempted as she is to lie on the lion, she refrains so that her dress isn't sullied.

Costume or not, she feels like a lady. ]

My father used to say "A weapon's intended function is almost beside the point. Ultimately it's only as good as the person who wields it". He's told me a great deal about heroes and warriors, when I was a little girl.

[Costume or not, she's acting like one. It's good to see. Gilgamesh reaches down to pet Shishi, now almost completely subdued.]

I would agree with that. Your father sounds very wise, and it pleases me he passed this knowledge along to you.

[ How ironic, she thinks, considering the reason why she asked for that book, in the first place. ]

Does it now.

[ Dress carefully splayed out, Alice continues to rub the lion's belly absently. Alice's cantor shifts, as she absently makes the comment- ]

But you fought his namesake. Does it still please you?

[And just as absently, Gilgamesh replies:]

I almost did.

[Whether it's because his own guard has gone down or simply a matter of whim, he tells her the truth. And she will know it as truth, as those cocky veils disappear, leaving him as he is at his core. And at his core, he's still torn over being forced from that battle into this one. It shows on his face.]

ALASTAIR claimed me as we were about to fight. I never actually crossed swords, but I did get to see it—the magnificent blade called Excalibur.

Well, it's not very noble to lie.

[ Alice finds herself chastising him, giving up on refraining from draping herself on the lion. Her arm loops around the lion's head, giving him a hug. As standoffish as she can be, she's certainly more affectionate to an animal. ]

Then it must be as strong as they said that it was.

[ he forgets, something about pulling it from a stone or how it came out of a lake. She wasn't sure. ]

Some might say I'm not much for nobility.

[Again, he offers a lopsided sort of smile. Now that Shishi's calmed down, he's settled as well. He must admit, she's pleasant company when she's not swinging her knife around. It leads to only one logical conclusion: people have hurt her far more than animals in her life.]

As for Excalibur... well, I hold many blades within my sacred Gate, but that is one that yet evades me. It's indeed very special.

[Like the Servant herself. His expression drifts a little to think of her.]

There's nothing to be gained from lying. You have to lie on top of a lie to cover it up. Excalibur belongs in the hand of the King of Britain, no one else's.

[ She almost adds haughtily enough "Even I know that". ]

Did you despise him that much...?

[ Alice doesn't look at him with scorn, she looks up at him with curiosity. It has nothing to do with a national pride or wonder, it goes back to how she viewed her father and how much of an influence he had over her. Without any of that, there wouldn't have been the Pale Realm or the White King, even if likely one or both had been destroyed by the Dollmaker.

She wouldn't scold anyone for having a burning dislike for King Arthur. She was humored, in a way, talking to a piece of legend and mythology. ]

[Gilgamesh looks back at her and answers in all honesty:]

I loved him as much as I despised him.

[And she may be right. Maybe there's nothing to be gained from a lie, and he's committing an awfully big one here. But he would've loved Arturia man or woman, so he doesn't see it as so bad. She'll tell her the rest of the story when she's ready, same as when he'll give her the book on Wonderland.

Gilgamesh pulls away from Shishi and gets back on his feet, eyeing the inn.]

Hm... should we leave him outside?

[He leaves the decision up to Alice. Not like anyone could stop him if he chose to bring a lion along.]

Hm.

[ Alice doesn't seem to really react much to this, no scorn, no nothing. Just mild confusion, nothing else. She had been far removed from the moralist, conservative society of England not to think much of it outside of her confusion.

Slowly, she rises, pushing her long hair out of her face, finally. ]

You're feelings are odd.

[ Really, how can you love and despise someone at once? Alice doesn't give him time to respond, she gathers her skirts and promptly turns on a heel, going indoors. ]

Regretfully, I think it would be better if he was out here. I don't want to upset the owners.

Maybe they've always been that way.

[Maybe sounds more like definitely, but Gilgamesh offers no further clues on the matter. By instinct, he thinks to summon his Gate and usher Shishi in, yet looking to Alice, he expects complaints. So he does something rare: he abides someone else and instead lowers himself to the lion's level.]

Be good. Don't get yourself lost. I'll be back in a bit.

[Shishi appears to understand, though how much he'll obey remains in question. Gilgamesh follows after Alice, studying her dress. How it sways behind her, elegantly.]

You are actually quite calm, aren't you? Well-mannered. Polite.

[ Maybe she should have taken offense to that sort of statement. He crossed her path on two different occasions when she was pushed. She didn't respond for several minutes leading the way, finding it a bit odd to be wearing such a long dress, how it felt toe wear it. When she opens the door to her room, in the inn, it's walking into a cluster.

Alice's room here isn't that much different from her meager room in London, with drawings sprung about and an untidy bed. She slept good when she actually did, and kept to herself by drawings. ]

If that's an attempt to be flattering, you've managed to do the opposite.

[ It was English custom to be polite or something to that affect. Alice stopped caring after the age of nine or ten, when she was convinced she wasn't going to leave the asylum. ]

I'm not a raving lunatic.

[ It always felt that people saw her that way, that they saw her nothing else as insane. If she ever had to explain why, she would simply say she was tired of being pushed. ]

[He has been invited into her room, her inner sanctum. This much he'd considered progress from a girl, from a woman who wished for none to touch her. He doesn't take insult to you've managed to do the opposite and even smiles a bit; he's growing used to her moods so they don't bother him as much as they ordinarily might. Maybe she's growing used to him too if he made it this far.]

You're not.

[This he yields without complaint. She had proven herself more than capable of civil exchange, although that earlier behavior had been troubling. But he decides to dismiss it, play by her rules, even if part of him wants to ask "why do you carry the knife?", another "why do you dislike touch?".

He dismisses both questions and just wordlessly summons the book she wanted—a worn copy of Le Morte d'Arthur.]

Here it is. One of the originals.

[ Truth be told, Alice hadn't put much thought into it. Staff members poking into her room so long ago was not that uncommon and nor was it uncommon for the children at Houndsditch to wander in her room. It would have been nice to have her own sanctum, but after tonight, she will and will go back to hiding herself as means to sleep normally. Alice spares him a pointed look, through her hair that seems to fall in her face again.

"I am a rational person, if given the chance". She was bright, still retained much of her education, as much as anyone could in her situation. Carefully, Alice takes it, pulling it to herself, holding it.

The first thing that Alice seems to do is flip through the illustrations, not the words. A huff through her lips, she forces herself to be polite. ]

You have my thanks.

[ She was eager to read through it and remember her father and sitting on his lap as he read it. Anything to remember her father. ]

[It's like a game, almost. Push at her a little, see if she responds, push a little more if he can get away with it. A touch to her shoulder, reluctant at best; perhaps next time willingly granted. There's no real way to tell with her and that's what exciting about it. It's been a long time since he's had so much fun playing by another's rules.

So he's going to play again. He steps closer to her, looks away. Keeps his composure. Keeps his voice down, his mannerisms proper. And when he asks of her something, it's soft. He doubts he'll see that Alice from before, the Alice that's happy among animals, but coming a bit closer to it... he could live with that.]

Will you show me your favorite part?

[He's really asking to read together. But it seems less forward like this.]

[ Thumbing through those illustrations, she's eager to look at the pictures rather than sit down to read it. All in good time, as to not spoil herself. She recalls what Nanny said -- commenting how Alice refused books without pictures. She could stand it as an adult, but she loved looking at other details. Alice was all about visuals, that much was clear from the drawings she had of her own. ]

I don't remember all of it.

[ She remembered the basics of it, only because her father loved it so. But, she remembered, how enamored she was with one illustration.

All because she was certainly convinced the Lady of the Lake had to be dead, because how else can she breathe under water? ]

But I always liked this drawing.

[ It wasn't the same drawing from the book her father had, but she knew it well enough, because it stood out to her, it confused a seven year old Alice. ]

[It's cute. It really is. He forgets that she's dressed as a lady when she acts the part of the girl, pouring through the pictures in undisguised eagerness. Truthfully, he's not sure what to think anymore, other than that Alice defies all expectations. She may be simply herself. They may be alike in that regard.

Gilgamesh looks at the picture and hums to himself. Seeing that sword, even drawn, sparks something within him.]

Mm. Arthur made many difficult decisions in his life. Pulling that sword from the stone likely ranked highest.

[It changed her. It changed everything. He knows the legend just as well as Alice, better even, and he's captivated just as much by it. Though for much different reasons.]

It is said that, in the moment he unsheathed that sword, he shed his own humanity. For the good of ruling his people, he shied from his own heart.

[And that in turn led to war. Arthur died, most certainly—just in a way no one ever expected.]

[ Shed his own humanity.

Alice flickers back to the Queen of Hearts castle, and finding the White King bounded by what remained of her. His words resonate with her now -- "I'll show you the meaning of sacrifice!", giving up what was left of him, for the sake of the Wonderland.

Ultimately, it echoed her father's fate, to which all Alice can do is offer a small incline of her head, pacing about the room with the book. She didn't want to look at him too much. ]

Is that not what a king does, to resign themselves for their sake of their kingdoms?

[Gilgamesh sits on the far edge of the bed. He presumes she'll take no issue, especially when it's further away from her. He watches her pace and must hold back his laughter. She could certainly be an energetic thing when the moment called for it.]

Indeed, some might say you're right. Others would disagree.

[The past repeats itself, and ultimately he finds himself asking the same question as he did back then, at the banquet of Kings.]

You've met me, of course. But what is your ideal King like, Alice? How would they rule, in your eyes?

[ Alice simply wouldn't stay still around him, she decided that much, out of being slightly unnerved, out of old habits of pacing the room with doctors and nurses. She had plenty of odd mannerisms built up on surviving her stay, those years ago. She didn't flip the pages, she was still stuck at the figure under the water, finding herself wondering the same thing as she did as a child -- how did anyone survive under water? ]

Contrary to what most English would see and feel, I would prefer a leader who would know the struggles of those around them.

[ Alice actually won't prefer any sort of monarchy, period, but she keeps her anti-authoritarian stance to herself. ]

Not someone distant, sitting on a throne or waging war. Someone compassionate, willing to give their life or their home to others in need. Gentle, but firm. Someone who would prefer wisdom and education over warfare and swords.

[ Someone like her father, of course. ]

You speak of someone you know.

[Or knew, he's not exactly sure, but even that anxiety can't hide the fondness behind those words. She's painted too clear an image for it simply to be pretend, for it to be something she pulled from fantasy. Ironic, actually, given his previous assumptions.]

Could you love such a person? Even if they turned you away. Even if, in all their compassion, they must side with their country over you.

[Even if they're long gone, dead and buried. He looks at her expectantly, not meaning to make her uncomfortable but all too hungry for the answer.]

It's more than that. My feelings are of that of any sensible person would want in a leader.

[ Alice won't dare admit she's speaking of her father, she'll chose to brush it off as a normal thing to ask for. Even then, her father's wisdom and compassion have had an important impact on Alice. She adored him and always saw him as the ideal hero -- that part hadn't changed much in her adulthood. She would still say it was sensible, always hiding her real feelings on it, while holding one of her father's favorite books. ]

The epitome of love is selfishness. To love another means to sacrifice and never thinking of yourself. It is better to have someone compassionate, willing to give up every otherworldly thing that they know and love fro the sake of others. What could be so horrible about that?

[She doesn't have to. Gilgamesh knows it's someone close, someone personal. And he could dig for it, knows just the right ways to get what he wants, but he doesn't. He lets it go. He lets her have the memory and focuses on her words, instead, strangely wise for one of her age. How much time did she have to herself, to think of such things and say them with such certainty? What made her so stubborn, so bold, even before those far beyond her?

Those are the answers he wants more than anything. But they will come with time. He lets it go. He lets her be. She was not deranged, by her own admission; in time, he feels, everything will reveal itself. Until then, he'd just have to wait for the rest of the story.]

Am I making you nervous, Alice?

[He's noted the pacing. His hands are folded on his lap, his posture still. By all definitions, he's been well-behaved. So why, then?]

Come, sit down. Show me more of the story. I'll tell you a little more about Arthur in return.

[ By default, Alice was nervous around others, especially men. Anyone can be civil and be on their best behavior, but in her experiences, it didn't always mean that they were good people. She thought with this much freedom, she would explore around the village and investigate things.

Alice found herself retreating to her room and her thoughts, simply because she couldn't trust other people. Alice doesn't answer that question, she only turns to give him a critical look, instead. Still with the book in her hands, Alice doesn't sit beside him, she chooses to settle herself down, a good distance away from him. Distance is nice, it's important. With her hands splayed on an illustration, Alice continues to humor him. ]

So be it, then, but don't expect me to sit next to you.

[He's reminded a little of a cat, fittingly enough. Wandering, affectionate only on its own terms. It would do him no good to force her nearby so he allows her to settle down as she wishes. Next time, maybe she'd come a bit closer, and a bit closer after that. This much is fine, for now.

If he has the whole bed to himself, he'll just lie back and relax. He's not sure where to start and where to stop, really, when it came to Arturia. He knew a lot about her, but he still didn't know her well beyond the surface of an obsession. But he had promised. His brow furrows in thought before he begins again.]

Arthur was a beautiful man. He charmed those he met with a quick smile and a proud gait, but it was always so faraway. Always so forced. That mantle he wore, the mantle as a true King, weighed him down. And the crown brought him no joy, his queen no love. The sword brought him no solace, either.

[For it was the same sword that led to his own ruin. That would become his ruin once again, once they finished their battle back in Fuyuki.]

The sword's holy sheath, called Avalon, was blessed by the fairies. It could summon Arthur's absolute sanctuary, a place only for himself, to dwell in.

[ She settles, with a bit of a huff, her head gently resting in her hands with the book in her lap. Never has she'd heard the king being described as "beautiful", come to think of it. Certainly, other characters in the story, but never the main one. If there was something different about Gilgamesh's tone, she would have considered it true affection. Simply put, to her, no one could really love and hate someone at much. But her mind is wandering already how they even met.

Alice had a vision of King Arthur already. Stern faced, as old as her father, but far more graceful looking than the White King. The notions of fairies and magic was a concept laughable to her. Hearing the mention of fairies earns a slight raise of her eyebrow.

By the sounds of it, it sounded like these noble qualities of a man doing the kingly duty earned some sort of ire.]

But I'm sure, in some way, the protection of his people brought him some solace. It sounds as if he loved his people and his country deeply. So, then, how does someone like you meet a British monarch?

[ What was that story, again? Sumerian? She couldn't really remember definitely. ]

That seems rather strange.

[In a way, it's true affection. In another, it's just that obsession taking on its worst sort of form, the form that would bind her and gag her and chain her up for his own pleasure. He does not speak of this to Alice. He does not dare speak of this to anyone here as then there would be accusations of madness and it made his job all the more difficult, sinking teeth in a little at a time, should all his fangs be exposed at once.]

I could not tell you. He wore it all behind a mask of utmost stoicism, for this was the path he chose, cold and lonely with only one goal in mind. You might even say he fell down the rabbit hole himself that day, so far he plummeted and for that singular purpose.

[His tone eases a little here. Not out of fondness, necessarily, but of nostalgia. He misses the King of Knights. He misses what he almost obtained. He misses his prize.]

It is a much longer story to speak of me, of Servants. But know this: we may be summoned into past, present, and future. Our chains are not our own.

[Ultimately, Gilgamesh was just as imprisoned as Saber was, caught in an endless cycle. He just chooses to ignore it most of the time.]

[ Oh, that couldn't be a rabbit hole, Alice would correct him, rabbit holes were from curiosity, nothing more, nothing less. She almost lets out a laugh at the idea. Really, this sort of reverence for the great King Arthur as fascinating and unnerving, all at once, and none of it is shown past Alice's tired green eyes, as she rest her head in her hands. ]

That's hardly something to condemn a man for. To be a leader, you sacrifice yourself for the sake of others, that's how it should be done. A true leader does not take a mantle to push his own agenda and ideals on others.

[ Like Angus Bumby. ]

How do you mean... Servants? Servants to what?

To Masters, of course.

[Gilgamesh looks up and, perhaps for the first time, treats her as an adult. Speaks to her like one, the whole of the truth.]

We are slaves. Bound, magically, to the will of the Holy Grail, which monitors our feuding. To these Masters, who summoned us from beyond the grave—from the Throne of Heroes—we pledge our loyalties and fight in their names. Forever. Until the end of time.

What sort of life is that?

[ To live at the whims of others, to not be of one's own free will? Alice doesn't bother hiding the disappointment on her face. It's like being nothing more than a doll, at that rate. ]

Then... were you summoned here? Where is your "master"?

[ Lord help her, she almost pities him. ]

[It isn't, he would say, but even as such a slave, Gilgamesh stood above the rest. He acted with more freedom than most and had always been given free reign to do as he pleased. He doesn't despair over it, lives as he chooses, with that one glaring exception.]

I don't have one.

[There is a note of sourness present over that much. Ordinarily he wouldn't have minded it but it also meant suffering serious prana loss. With no steady source to sustain himself, he's left hungry half the time and starving the rest. It's a pitiful existence for the so-called King of Heroes but he's been left little choice.]

For now, I am on my own. But should the Grail appear here...

[There would be no choice in that, either. Hell would rain down all over again upon the world. Part of him wants to see it.]

So, it won't.

[ Which is, realistically, a very irrational thing to say, but magical cups don't descend out of the heavens, she would insist. Alice corrects herself, realizing that's a bit too much emotion for her liking. She recovers by crossing her arms and turning the other way. She doesn't give off the wrong impression of actually showing empathy to such a strange man like him.

Decidedly, Alice loathed the idea of such a bond even existing. ]

There isn't anything like that here, only inane conflicts between goblins and humans.

Pity.

[Gilgamesh cuts in with a sharper tone, looking up from his sprawling on the bed. He doesn't look at her with hatred, not exactly, but it's mildly accusing and perhaps a little troubled. Perhaps the tables has turned; perhaps she has made him uncomfortable this time.]

Pity was what you felt for me just now, wasn't it? But there's no reason for it. I lived and I died and what you see now...

[He gestures, vaguely, trying to explain what can't be explained. She doesn't need to understand. It's fine. No human ever would.]

It's what remains of my legacy. The legacy of Gilgamesh, that carries on forever. That's exactly who I am, and I won't look back for anything.

Don't misconstrue.

[ She wasn't call it pity, not in front of his face. Alice still sat there stubbornly, with her head turned away from him. He did make her feel uncomfortable and Alice didn't want to give him extra room by admitting to pity. ]

Are you certain of that? It sounds like you've done plenty of that already.

[ Even then, the idea of bringing dead souls back to life for a mythical cup, like dolls, did upset her. She wondered what these so-called "masters" were like, if they were just as cruel, just as self-important as Angus Bumby. ]

[Are you certain of that? It sounds like you've done plenty of that already.

Gilgamesh barely suppresses a flinch. It's true. She'd caught him in the lie, just not one he told on purpose. He shouldn't look back but the nightmares of millenia past still haunt him so. He dares not speak the name of who plagues him but it does not hold those thoughts at bay.

He's too unsettled by it. Alice will have the pleasure of seeing him doubt, of hearing it in his voice, spoken softly.]

I cannot afford to.

[With that, he abandons the bed and stuffs his hands in his pockets, prepared to leave. He'd said enough for one sitting.]

Keep the book for as long as you'd like. As before, I'll be by to pick it up again.

[ Suffice to say, that's an interesting reaction, and even that has Alice glancing back over to him, pressing up the ghostly veil of her costume. Very odd. She was told as a child she could be very insensitive with her bluntness -- was that the case? Surprisingly, Alice doesn't regret it. She settles the book gently aside at an in table, slowly rising to her feet. ]

It'll get crowded out there soon and I don't want to be there when it's very crowded.

[ Rising up in a gown is not something she's accustomed to, so she nearly trips as she does. With her feet on solid ground again and not fabric, Alice turns back to him again. ]

If you're going, then I shall see you. Try not to lurk.

[Almost. He almost takes his leave, but a rush of brashness overtakes him and he blurts it out without even thinking.]

Why do you dislike touch?

[Maybe he should regret that. But he won't. He's simply too curious and more than a bit blunt himself.]

[ That is something that stops Alice in her steps, before she continues on her merry way to the party. The look on her face is angry and tired instantly, as if the anger had made her ten years older. There's plenty of reasons why she dislikes it, most of them, she won't get into and and what had happened. Ten years of nothing but beatings, torture, and abuse.

All the more reason why it looks as if Alice is about to haul off and slap him. Bitterly, she answers- ]

Because kind touch was never given to me.

[ She keeps that answer as vague as possible, without an omission to her past. In an instant, the memories of Rutledge come flooding back and before Alice can experience an episode of dissociation, she starts to leave. ]

[closed] I am your lion.

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