The water stopped pouring when he pulled from the handle. As Luca stepped out of the raining closet and grabbed a towel, he wondered about how such a thing might work—where did the water come from? And where did the dirty water go? He’d have to ask someone, but he didn't know who to ask. Looking in the mirror, Luca saw his messy hair. Long ago, had he stopped trying to comb it into any shape, whatever he did, it always returned to the mess it was, kind of like him.
The feeling of dry underwear and pants was very much welcome; luckily his clothes didn’t vary too much from each other, and everything in his pockets survived the staining, so transferring the items from one pocket to another wasn’t too difficult. However, when he got to Zenith’s badge, he held onto it for a minute, then he sat down on the toilet and put his head in his hands.
“What the fuck am I doing...” He asked himself. Luca had never felt so embarrassed. What kind of man pisses himself on his first day in the biggest opportunity one could dream of? Maybe he shouldn’t have hopped off the train; if he hadn't, Alyska wouldn’t have gotten yelled at by that terrifying man. A shiver ran up his spine remembering it: how was he to survive in a pce with such inhabitants? Luca clutched his head and held back tears; he wasn’t built for this; he was in fact not able to survive; he was going to miss css if he didn't go right now, but he just couldn't stomach going; all he could do was feel weak. His mind yearned for Dryleave, to be back and to feel the dry grass under him, to feel the warmth of the sun as he walked to the well, and to hear his mother console him whenever he felt sorrow, or his sister cheer him up when he was unmotivated.
Luca remembered one time, his sister had come back from a nearby fair, and she and their mother had gotten into an argument while Luca was out; he was never one to go to parties; he wanted to find out what happened, so the young adolescent boy entered his mother’s room carefully to try and comfort her.
Turns out, Lana lied about the situation they were in, they had just gotten the house, so it was mostly empty, and she felt ashamed of admitting that to some of the fair folk. When their mother found out, she yelled at Lana for doing so, but she wasn’t angry at her; she was just releasing the frustration of not being able to give her children a better life. Luca hugged her and assured her that she gave them the best life they could ask for and that Lana simply slipped up; Luca had barely ever seen his mother cry, but she did that time on his shoulder, and once enough tears were dropped, she kissed him on the forehead and told him, in her sweet and calming voice: Promise me, my dear boy, to never feel ashamed of who you are and where you come from, and that way I’ll remember that I did good, and I raised a good man.
Luca leaned back and took a deep breath, calming his nerves. He wasn’t built for Zenith; that was a fact. But then again, he still was there, and he hadn’t given up yet despite thinking he wouldn’t make it the first night. Another memory came to mind, one of the many times Luca and his sister made stories of ancient heroes; they would y on the bed looking at the ceiling, and they would imagine what said heroes did after the stories everyone knew—did the dragon tamer’s companion grow to be as mighty as the rest of its kind or perhaps even more? Did the undefeated find a worthy opponent that made him know defeat? That was the way he and his sister passed the time, both imagining a world of adventure beyond the dry grass. One specific time, Lana suggested for both of them to become heroes, but Luca, who was at the age of thinking of oneself as wise and mature despite not being either, told her that it wasn’t something two kids could do; heroes weren’t something people actually become; they are more born with it; his sister, however, was persistent and doubled down, telling Luca that he could become a legend like any other because of his heritage (she had this idea that Luca’s real father was an adventurer and wouldn’t let go of it); this silly idea turned into a full-fledged discussion between two children on how and what they would do if they were to indeed become heroes. In the end, Luca felt weirdly sad at the fact that he never would become one, but when he told this to his sister, she yawned, id on the bed next to him, and muttered, It’s fine… You’ll always be the best at being my brother, before promptly falling asleep.
He stood up and turned the small valve on the sink; a trickle of water came out, and he refreshed his face with it. Looking in the mirror, Luca didn’t see a hero; he saw the same boy he had seen all his life, from the middle of nowhere, with messy hair, tired eyes, and a strong jaw that didn’t look like any hero he ever thought of; Luca would never be a legend, but he would always be Luca, and that was something Zenith wouldn’t take from him; it could drag him away from his family and kick him down until he barely moved, but he’d keep fighting; in the end, he didn’t even want to be a legend; that’s why he was so scared in the first pce! He came because it gave a good living, and he had sworn by the mother and the stars that he’d provide and come back.
Zenith wasn’t his home, and being a hero wasn’t his destiny, but that wasn’t going to stop him from doing what he needed to. So with a deep breath, Luca looked at himself in the mirror, and suddenly he realized that the reflection wasn’t the fearful boy his mind wanted him to seem or the fierce warrior his inner child yearned to be; he saw himself, and that was all that he was going to see; so with a quick brush to dry off his face and a final deep breath, Luca proceeded to exit the washroom and use his free time to write home. Using the ink he bought and the letters he was given, he started writing the first of many letters, and, though he started without a previous idea of what to write, the exact words he wanted to say appeared on the paper.
Time: 14:20
