chaos theory | l. garmadon

twenty-seven

Generationals
••• Spinoza •••

holding on to what you used to be

you got your name, you got your name, you saw me

caught your reflection in the shop window

can't you see your world is crumbling in the melted snow

•••••

🐍

Hey Lloyd, I know you're super stressed right now, but my ancestor sorta caused everything that's evil in this world and I'm really kind of freaking out.

The true reality of what Minerva caused hadn't settled in until I was left to my own devices after dinner. It fell upon me like a thundercrack, all bolting and heavy and bellowing, like the hallowing of a barrel. I felt empty, yet so sick, that I couldn't stay in Lloyd's room. I had to go to a place where I could really centre my thoughts.
So I paced the dojo and was probably wearing a track into the tatami flooring while Kashu limped along beside me. I held my chin in my hands and my mouth in my other as I stared at nothing in diluted, sick horror.
The candles flickered with each lap I passed, curling with the momentum. My pace sped and fell with each frantic thought, as did my erratic heartbeat.
  My ancestor caused the evil in this world.
Wu knew this. He must've, because how else would he have known that Uchū's journal contained passages about the origins of my powers? He didn't hate me, though, despite Minerva quite literally destroying his father's own paradise.
But did Garmadon know? Did Misako? Surely they did. Misako knew more than all of my history textbooks did combined and Garmadon and Wu were practically mind-linked; what one knew, the other did, too.
But what did it mean? What was her motive? Why did she do it? Why collide two realms? How did she even do that to begin with?
And, again, why?

Too many questions. I found myself surrounded by too many questions again. They poked me, prodded me, pinched my skin and punched my lungs. I was getting harassed by my own mind.
I stopped in the middle of the dojo. Kashu stopped beside me and panted. The candles flickered.
  Questions, questions, questions. It was always like this, and I always found myself in the same position; nothing had changed in the nearly four years I'd been a part of the Garmadon's lives. Always kept in the dark, always left grasping for answers while being pelted with more questions. Nothing I asked was answered, at least nothing of value.
  It wasn't fair. It's not fair.
  Is this not essential for me to know? Is this not my own history? Why did Lloyd and I have to be punished simply for knowing what our prophecy contained? How did that even make any sense? In all my novel-diving expeditions, not once did I stumble across a book where the prophecy's recipients weren't allowed to know it.
  Why can't my life be like Percy Jackson? I thought to myself in misery. I would kill to have a gross, old oracle in the attic.
  I looked down at Kashu. He looked up at me, all brown eyes and droopy jowls.