3 2nd Dawn - Her Beginning
In this world, those who don't work, won't eat.
That's basically the gist of Mother's longwinded jibber-jabbers before I went to Ellicht. It's a saying back in my hometown that parents often use on children to get their household chores done.
As I grew older, I learned that these words would make people do more strenuous labours than domestic work. Since I never had a knack in mundane things such as cleaning and managing the house, I can only imagine how challenging this will be.
Even then, however, I know that the only solution for everything is hard work. I'll definitely starve if that phrase doesn't exist. I have to get my hands and feet moving first before my mouth.
Then came the next day - the sun rising from the east marks the start of my new endeavour.
"Now, let's go find a workshop," I mused as I turn to check myself on the mirror.
A petite frame, waist-length milky white hair cascading into small waves, and round light crimson irises come into view. With such vibrant colours, I already guess that I'll stand out again.
I don't usually conceal my features when I was still in the countryside, but going by yesterday's occurrence, I might pull a larger spectacle this time since I'll be visiting the plaza.
"Good thing I came prepared!"
With that, I decided to just hide my hair under my handmade cap with pink panels and a black bill, partnered it with a pink collared blouse and grey skirt, and threw on my satchel. Since the rubber shoes were kind of proven to have stuck out like a sore thumb, I just settled with a pair of knee-length brown boots for now. It's less conspicuous since it has at least an inch of heel.
I then made my way downstairs and dashed out of the door overzealously.
Driven by my hoydenish playfulness, I unknowingly sprint all the way to my destination just like how I'd rushed to school when I was younger.
"Hey, watch out!"
Not even a moment later, a man with a small carriage full of vegetables materializes before me.
Surprised, I fail to step on my brakes and pull off a parkour instead. I spring upward, using my hand to hoist my body up from the sacks of goods, and leap over it out of reflex, flummoxing everyone around me in the process.
"I'm so sorry!" I shouted back to the man who only scratched his head in bafflement.
I then found myself hoping that Mother should've taught me manners instead of history.
"I should've asked Mother how exactly do they walk here…"
I also thought, however, that I won't be able to do it even then.
Pushing aside my embarassmemt and these silly regrets of mine, I just decided to move forward and proceed with my current venture. I do hope that nobody from the workshop I'll be going to will recognize me from that preposterous skit.
On the gates of the assembly hall in the plaza, there's a huge bulletin board with posters and flyers posted on it. Most of them are names of workshops and studios that offer a variety of apprenticeship programs.
As I am scanning through them, I am too absorbed that I fail to notice an approaching figure.
"Gah!"
I accidentally bump into someone and drop my portfolio, consequently scattering my sketches all over the ground.
Fretting over the clutter of paperwork, I immediately reach out to them until a hand suddenly falls on top of mine.
Taken aback, I look up to see a boy with neatly combed pitch black hair and hazel brown eyes staring down at me. His lean figure is shrouded by the scintillating rays of the morning sun, making him look so entrancingly dazzling.
"Are you okay, Miss? I'm so sorry. I didn't see you there," he blurted out with a concerned expression.
"Uh… Y-Yeah!" I stuttered, too drawn by his stunning frame.
Then, when he smiles oh so magnanimously, I imagine hearing the bells of spring. I can feel my pale cheeks warm up, heat spreading all the way to my ears. My heart is pounding so loudly that I'm afraid he might hear it.
At sixteen, I, Lillian Daffodil, am probably experiencing what they call 'love at first sight'.
It might come out a bit too sudden and cliche, but then again, teenage hormones don't exist for nothing.
"You made these?"
I eventually snap out of my trance when he picks one of my papers and peers at it. He reacts a bit perplexed to these, which makes me nervous and fidgety. I just gnaw on my lips and fiddle with my fingers before slowly nodding my head in reply.
"I'm looking for an apprenticeship and I brought them with me."
When searching for a workshop, a portfolio is one of the requisites. It's a documented proof of one's abilities and skills, which can boost one's chances of getting accepted.
As for mine, though, I don't have any particular talent to brag about so I just brought the weird sketches I drew during my leisure time.
Staring back at him, I can see how curious he is.
He almost looks hesitant to ask something. In the end, he just helped me pick up the remaining pieces on the floor, and I only followed suit. He then began another conversation afterwards, probably to ask about my drawings.
"My name is Sol, by the way. I'm supposed to be here for an errand," he started, stretching his arm to me for a handshake.
"I'm Lillian," I replied before taking his hand, slightly blushing at my contact with his warm and soft palms.
"If you like drawing, why not apply for something related to it? Portraitist, painter, visual artist…"
"O-Oh, I'm not really good at it. This is just a bunch of scribbles I made out of boredom."
Sol only gives me a look while I sigh.
My art is considered average, not too horrible but also not very impressive either. I only drew what came to mind so all of them look a bit rushed and smudgy.
Yet, for unknown reasons, he looked astounded earlier. I wonder what got him tongue-tied.
"Does it mean you're just playing around when you drew them?"
"Y-You could say that…"
His inquisitiveness is starting to make me feel awkward, though.
"Then, your designs… I mean, that explains why they're somewhat unrealistic. I've never seen them before."
At this, I just blink at him in puzzlement. He then raises his index finger upward and points it at my cap, expression baffled.
"Same for that hat…"
