prompt; dirt
fandom; fate/
word count; 125
Luxuriating in all his prestige, the King of Heroes was almighty. With golden chalices held high, much like his ego, the wine stirred ever so slightly, spurring a disturbance in its finely crafted cup.
They believed the demigod, with his countenance practically tinted with prominent vanity, was incapable of formulating friendship-- most definitely not with the 'peasants'.
Incorrect.
Long ago, during his unspoken past within the Kingdom of Uruk, sat an androgynous figure of clay and earth. Enkidu, spilling vibrant green locks of hair, and a smile that rivaled that of Mother Nature, was a deteriorating entity who only accented an inevitable pallor.
It agonized Gilgamesh to think that his one and only best friend was nothing but a mixture of soil, loam, and dirt.
