But setting all that dramatic tree rot and ancient prophecy nonsense aside…
"Why do you even think I'd help you?"
I asked the question plainly, voice flat and without the tiniest hint of pretense.
Because even though I'd spent a long time searching for Yggdrasill, even though a part of me had always been drawn to it… I didn't care about saving it.
It could rot away for all I cared.
It could collapse and take this entire damn kingdom with it, and I wouldn't bat an eye.
No heroism at all... and of course...
No more fucking prophecies.
I don't give a single fuck.
I'm already sick of that word, prophecy.
It's like a fucking broken record spinning in the background of every conversation, every plan, every goddamn conversation with someone who thought they had "the truth".
Fucking let Lucas deal with it. He's the Hero, right? Golden boy with his glowing sword and stupid grin.
Let him carry the world as the hero normally does...~
