The King of Aethelgard laughed, a short, sharp, and utterly contemptuous sound.
"I do not need to be given a Civilization. And I have no desire to be entangled in the emotional, chaotic weavings of THE Living Emotive."
…!
THE Weavers remained still, their faceless hoods a void of unreadable intent. "In this case," their unison voice was a gentle, yet absolute, counter-argument, "you have to. It will benefit your Way of Existence… and your budding Civilization."
Gilgamesh was silent for a long, heavy moment. He looked at these three mysterious beings, at their quiet, unshakeable certainty, and he gave a single, almost imperceptible, nod of assent.
And then, it happened.
WUU!
The three hooded figures, who had been a single, unified presence, suddenly stopped. Their forms, which had been perfectly still, flickered!
A silent, internal conversation, a wave of pure, conceptual data, passed between them.
