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Summary
It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter. Enchant. Put away. Enchant. Put away. Enchant enchant enchant enchant—
Clown could do all of this better. Sneeg could do this better. There were so many more people on the server who were already better at enchanting who could put better enchants on these stupid golden boots that nobody was even going to use. The boots’ only purpose was to be fodder for her to try to get better, but there wasn’t a point to getting better when it seemed that everyone else was already better than her.
She stared at the table, unchanged. Why was she even doing this? It didn’t matter if she was good at enchanting. All she was good at was building. That was all she was good for, and it wasn’t even a unique skill. If Foolish came out of retirement, he could easily push her aside, not to mention Clown and his tower. Her chest tightened as the thought crossed her mind: She wasn’t really good for anything, was she? So what was the point of being here?
Ros has a breakdown about her place in the Kingdom and thinks about leaving. Clown does his best to comfort her.
aka ros's new and improved mental breakdown
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