And yet here you stand, ignoring the offerings of the smallest of your subjects.

[ There's a sudden coolness to Gilgamesh's demeanor, eyes narrowing as Ozymandias brings up the Quest, taking shit to eleven when Gilgamesh was chilling at a two--and that 'coldness' Ozymandias accuses him of manifests, little flakes of ice spitting over the Sun King's head as the Golden King begins to walk without him.

Ozy is not shaped like a friend. Enkidu for life. Awlad for spiders. ]

There is no one here for you to preach to, Sun King. You invite disquiet between us.