Fated to be, or perhaps this was just the way Lloyd was, they way he'd always respond when faced with revelations like this. Either way, his hands were curling and clenching into fists, heedless of the pain this caused as his cut and cauterized skin pulled and stretched, the thin scabs splitting under the strain. In a way, he was almost glad for it. It gave him something physical to focus on, to ground him in the here and now.

It also gave him something to blame for the dampness in his eyes.

It took one shuddering breath, then another, before he could form words again. "I... taught you?" That didn't make sense. "You were the one teaching me. At least... before..." Before the Tower of Salvation.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, it still felt weird to hear someone refer to Yggdrasill as Mithos. Mithos the Hero... All this time...