anyprice | IC INBOX = KAISOU

--ohmygod don't do that when I'm MID TYPING.

[ great now even the god of elation is invested in whatever fucking story this is and sampo just KNOWS the thing is gonna find whatever it is, funny or not, absolutely hilarious once it's delivered.

he stops as he pushes through the Dark Room--guessing one of the doors that might be locked. He holds his breath--and pushes through, finding himself at the top of a set of stairs.

Success. ]

Found the wine cellar! go thru the bedroom to the kitchen, past the hallway... [ this house is a nightmare and sampo loves it ]

Hello, Laughter.

I'm coming, I'm coming.

[ by which he means he's backtracking in this goddamn nightmare house (affectionate) and turning to the tried and true method of Marco Polo in order to navigate, calling Sampo's name and waiting for the echo back, winding his way from the depths of the house to find his way into the different depths of the house. ]

--po! Sampo!

[ closer now, standing in the dark room, the pupils of his cat-like eyes blown wide to take in what little light yet hides in the darkness. ]

🎶Gil-ga-mesh.🎶 [ he's gonna call back in the most sing-song voice he can manage, up until the moment Gil appears at the stop of the stairs--and sampo... stops. Going from his bright and cheery look to one of ... quiet observation.

Even the Laughter isn't Laughing.

Gil looks... Scary.
And maybe for a moment, that startles the clown. ]

Heee-eeey, Bu-ddy. See, I found it. Wine cellar. And there was a few gems down here too if you wanna' pilfer them into your portals.

[ he looms for a moment at the top of the stairs, hand resting on the doorframe as he peers down into the low light of the cellar, and he just. has a look at Sampo.

the other man is an open book when he wants to be. there's curiosity in him, but also a sort of--wary hesitation. warmth. showman control. he's a clown that's suddenly found himself on the wrong side of the lion's cage, and while he's pretty sure he's not about to be Sampoburgers, it's never, y'know. a complete certainty.

Gil lets his fingers trail along the wall as he comes down the steps in heavy footfalls, burdened with every piece of purpose. ]

Take them for yourself. Have some walking around money. I'm trading you to Zulius for usage of his stuffy Victorian, so you'll need spending cash.

[ ... not that the Vogue accepted emeralds? or did it?? mysteries abound. ]

[ he doesn't need to be told twice to pocket anything, really, and in an instant the gems disappear--poked away inside his closet space that's probably crammed with all sorts of bits and bobs just like the little gemstones. He does have to give gil a long, confused stare though as he processes THAT information, and slowly, his head tilts to the side. ]

--You're trading me away for that guy?

What's happening, what why!

I mean, I don't find a problem going to hang out with Mama Zules, but! I deserve some explanation for being suddenly kicked out into the streets! Like an unwanted kitten.

[ and the gems are gone without so much as an 'are you sure?'. Gil could laugh. he does, a little bit, eyes narrowing with a fondness he reserves for Sampo as the man bobbles his head and does his own twirling steps on the strange stage they've set before them.

there's an uncertain current in the Fool's words, even as he's playing at totally not being bothered. ]

My thoughts are strange to me, and I'm afraid you lack the experience I need to pick at in what will likely be a ruthless and unpleasant fashion. [ he drawls back, coming over to Sampo to cup his cheek, soft and tender as he tries to coax the man to sway with him. ]

Unless I missed the time that your lovely mother turned up with a surprise sibling for you.

[ it's the flattest he's said it so far. Sam deserves that. ]

[ ON ONE HAND, it almost feels... bad to be told he doesn't have the experience to help the person you care about--and there's definitely a part of him that feels something like disappointment--oh god what's that emotion? he doesn't like it, he doesn't like it at all. it itches and feels weird in the wrong places and he's struggling to get it off himself, mentally--

Only for his thoughts to be interrupted by sudden

loud

and cacophonous laughter.
It's so loud that he flinches--his eyes closing as his hands move to cover his ears--wincing in pain as the God finds gil's words hits THEM first, before Sampo gets a moment to properly comprehend what's just been

flatly

said to him. ]

--Hold on.
Wait, wait, The Laughter is being insane about what you just said.
You--you seriously did not just tell me your mom made you a brother??

[ he feels... something, about it. there's a flicker on Sampo's face that Gilgamesh would apologize for, if he believed in saying things that he needed to apologize for. but he doesn't. he's painfully honest with his praise and his scorn in equal measures unlike some dillholes in the world, but that's neither here nor there

the Laughter gets it.

Gil just smiles as Sampo goes through his thoughts and rubs his ears and he leans in again, lips to Sampo's ear. ]

My mother had nothing to do with acquisition of my brother~

[ you're welcome, Elation. laugh at Kings and clowns alike. ]

[ The Laughter gets it a little TOO much. There's no sign of the thing ceasing in its laughter, pealing giggles and cackles rising and falling through his head like the world's worst chorus. He's just. Looking at Gil with a Look that's halfway between 'AM I ALLOWED TO LAUGH AT THIS' or 'is this actually terrible and i should have a different emotion'.

When gil rumbles more details in his ear, the sound gets even louder--until Sampo just shakes his head and claps his hands once, gently.

With a soft 'pop', a strange... creature appears. It has the shape of a man, but it's all in shadow, cluttered and covered in constantly shifting and changing myriad masks--as well as strange colorful juggling balls and the like.
The thing is without a head--but now the sound is out of his head and now filling the room, instead.

Sampo's gonna cover his face with a hand. ]

You're killin' me here, Gil. He was set to make my head explode! I love a good joke, but I'm still here waiting for the proper punchline!

Are you.
For *actual* real.
Your dad. Your dad--Mr. 'Don't hang out with lessers'--had a second baby and you're only finding out *now??*

[ well, that's mildly alarming.

still Would though.

Gil's eyes flicker to the--the Laughter, the thing inside the hole in Sampo's skull, his savior--and as obnoxious as the cackling is, it doesn't stop the strange, bared-teeth expression that Gil's still wearing as he continues down theatrical lane, running his thumbs over Sampo's knuckles. ]

That's the punchline. My father stepped out of his marriage and sired a child, and did nothing about it.

For twenty-two years. Twenty-two. The boy--the man's old enough to have dabbled in college, an active presence on social media, a business plan for a bakery, and not yet be allowed to rent a car, but he could buy one! If only his father had given him any resources!

[ the laugh is a sort of hysterical, angry thing, laced bitter and heavy. ] My father, my father--the first man to preach about the importance of honesty, loyalty, integrity, and the duty of care to responsibility, my father, the man whose spent our entire period of being intellectual peers frowning about my 'lack of care in my image' with my 'promiscuity' and the optics that not having a committed partner and stable home life gives a man in my position... cheated on my mother the Gods only know how many times, didn't use protection, made at least one child, and did nothing for it. Not a single can of milk, sock, or diaper.

The boy--man's--mother has finally brought the sword he hasn't noticed down on his head. She went twenty-two years without any sort of support from him while raising his child, and now that her son has loftier, more expensive goals, she's come to collect. With interest. His reputation and image will be put through a meat grinder if he's spent twenty years preaching about the importance of honesty while lying with the other side of his mouth.

At least that's what he was saying when he wasn't sobbing at me during his groveling.

[ there remains no pity in Gilgamesh's face. ]

Edited 2025-08-23 12:30 (UTC)

You're telling me the man was sobbing? I thought he'd surgically removed his tear ducts before you were born.

This is--seriously insane! [ their soundtrack is now just laughter and the sound of bells. that's it. Aha isn't done laughing and is having a fit on the floor at this point, legs kicking as THEIR arms wrap around THEIR midsection as it struggles for air, despite not having a fucking head. ] And he wants YOU to bail him out?

Wasn't he always the rich man able to throw money at his problems? If he has 22 years of child support backpayments, pay the bill! I mean, sure, I always make soft eyes at you for spending money here and there, but not 22 years worth of child payment bills! Does he want you to pay it out??? You??

The kid who was raised by more nannies than I have relatives??

It's as hilarious as it was utterly mortifying.

[ the Laughter is all but wailing its delight as Gilgamesh comes close to Sampo so that he can be better heard over the jangling and jeering, eyes lidded as the being's noise ripples the air, whispers along Gil's skin. he presses his forehead to Sampo's and comes in, lips to his ear again. ]

And that's where you need to think about it, my darling 'business' man. [ he taps Sampo's forearm, using his finger to... illustrate his point, writing down numbers as he speaks them, thinks of them. it's nice to touch Sampo. grounding, especially with the Laughter ringing so wildly through the cellar. ]

If he were to go to court, a court would say he needed to pay something appropriate to his income and lifestyle, since that's what a child would be due in the wake of his presence, right? So think of how expensive it was to raise one son with nannies, expensive schools, designer clothes... and then add interest to twenty-two years of shirked payments. [ tap. tap tap tap. thumb resting on Sampo's pulse, letting their hearts beat together--Gil's is quick, impassioned. like a wolf smelling blood in the quiet of night. like a rabbit bleeding in the snow, huddled down for fear of the noises in the treeline. ]

He does not have that kind of liquid cash laying around. He'd have to withdraw funds, cash out investments--people would notice, people would talk. If he lowballs the boy's mother, she takes him to a formal setting to get her pounds of flesh, and then everyone knows. He has a terrible responsibility swinging over his head, threatening to take it and crush his entire empire.

[ and Gil could pay it away without a blink, but something shifts in his expression--his pupils tighten, slitted, and he drums his fingers lazily on Sampo's wrist again. ]

He desperately wants me to do something, yes, and put me in contact with his son's mother.

And she, quite politely, would like me to sponsor her child's immigration to America and help him with the messy business of opening a shop of some sort. Most likely a bakery. She'd like him to have somewhere safe to stay until he can get a little bit of cash in to better his independence.

[ if the Laughter weren't caterwauling its joy before... ]

Ah. What's the picture being made here: is it the Sword of Damacles? Swinging high over your dad's head, now, and you're supposed to be a chain that makes the sword more stable, huh? That's a pretty hefty thing he's asking you to cover for him.

[ like. honestly. gil could say NO and just. bask off the aftermath, but. here gil is, instead, having a moral conundrum over what he needs to DO with a sudden brother and the need to be something better than what this New Brother was given. Honestly. It makes sampo feel a little... happy? That someone like Gil who was allergic to using affectionate terms with anyone stands here, thinking about his next moves.

...And there goes Aha, continuing THEIR gigglefit. ]

SsSSSSOOOOoooOooO.

What's the plan, my man?

[ he could. he could do that. he could just laugh and laugh and sip his wine and watch as his father's world burns, and it would never bother him; his father's failures will never be his own, and he's never felt burdened by another's sins.

but instead he's... tentative. unsure. feeling stirred up enough about it that he's pacing in his wine cellar instead of sitting in one of the manor's man fancy and ostentatious chairs, having a merry laugh about the misfortunes of his lessers.

what is he going to do.

he savors the thought for a moment, letting it settle and sing in the corner of his mind as he thinks. and thinks. and then his eyes flicker open and he looks to Sampo with such a clarity of himself. ]

Well clearly, I'm to be the man my father never was.

Well; CLEARLY. You've already gotten to that conclusion years ago, my man. Nono, I mean, whatcha' gonna' do about the boy?

Pay him off and see him on his way, or...

Waaaaait. That's what you need grumpy ol' Vittore's advice for, isn't it?
You wanna talk to him about what to do because of his weirdo brother from another world, right?

Man, that's smart. [ but Vittore was also a rich weirdo, what if he didn't give good advice. ): worry Samuel. This is worrysamuelface.png. ]

IC INBOX = KAISOU

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