@thywound liked for a starter
"How are you faring, Dragonborn?" the voice comes from nowhere in particular, grating in volume & tone, "With all of your ... 'prophecy' nonsense."
Prophecy ... Madgod spits out the word as if it wounded her. As if it were glass upon the tongue or a blistering hot marble forced past her lips.
"Are you sick of it yet?" she jeers now, humor returning, "Sick of their shit?"
Cackling fills the air, carried on an oddly warm & floral breeze that gusts past Remilia. A single crimson butterfly flying sporadically in its midst. "Hero do this! Hero do that! Hero run over here- no, we actually meant over there! Hero help us! Save us-!!"
Hero. Hero. Hero.
"Sacrifice yourself for the greater goo-- Oh, wait. You haven't gotten to that part of the story yet, have you? Nevermind. They'll find a way to lead the lamb to slaughter sooner or later." the butterfly rests upon her shoulder, whispering maliciously into her ear, "You don't have to save them, you know."










