To the Land of the Living
“They had drunk the night away. Simon Magus was asleep in his seat, snoring. The old sorcerer had been bored and restless throughout the feast, feeling neglected and out of place. Herod sat slouched over a flask of golden wine, the same one he had nursed half the evening; he looked to be frayed and weary, at the last edge of his endurance, but he seemed determined to hang on. He was talking earnestly with a lean, dark, heavily-bearded man in a flowing white robe. Dumuzi, puffy-eyed and pale, was... also clearly making an effort at staying awake, though his head was nodding. Across the way, Ninsun looked tired but game, and little Ruiz beside her showed no sign of fatigue whatever; his eyes were keen and gleaming still, and he was scrawling drawings by the dozen on the table napery, on dirty plates, on any flat surface that came to hand.
Vy–otin, still impeccable in his crisp and no doubt miserably uncomfortable Later Dead clothes, came to Gilgamesh’s side and said quietly, “Come, let us go for a little walk.MoreLess
Vy–otin, still impeccable in his crisp and no doubt miserably uncomfortable Later Dead clothes, came to Gilgamesh’s side and said quietly, “Come, let us go for a little walk.MoreLess
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