Quoted By:
You will never be a real dragoon. You have no dragon blood, you have no elezen ears, you have no rage. You are a lancer twisted by gridania and job stones into a crude mockery of ishgard’s perfection.
All the “validation” you get is two-faced and half-hearted. Behind your back people mock you. Midgardsormr is disgusted and ashamed of you, your “friends” laugh at your sloppy jumps behind closed doors.
Dragons are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of years of evolution have allowed dragons to sniff out frauds with incredible efficiency. Even lancers who “pass” look uncanny and unnatural to a dragon. Your dive form is a dead giveaway. And even if you manage to get hunt down a dragon, they’ll laugh at your inability to use their eyes.
You will never be happy. You wrench out a fake smile every single morning and tell yourself it’s going to be ok, but deep inside you feel the depression creeping up like a weed, ready to crush you under the unbearable weight.
Eventually it’ll be too much to bear - you’ll buy a rope, tie a noose, put it around your neck, and spineshatter dive into the coerthan abyss. Your parents will find you, heartbroken but relieved that they no longer have to live with the unbearable shame and disappointment. They’ll bury you with a headstone marked with your true class, and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know a lancer is buried there. Your body will decay and go back to the dust, and all that will remain of your legacy is a skeleton that is unmistakably a lancer.
This is your fate. This is what you chose. Drink deep of my rage mortal, and despair.
