Not even two days in, I'm being reprimanded by a potential instructor.
"You surely have a lot of free time in your hands…"
"…Just what are these garbage…?"
"…I do believe in the wonders of an artistic mind, but this is downright absurd…"
"…Also, what's up with that hat?"
Forget about being reprimanded. This is public humiliation.
While the head seamstress is spouting gibberish, an audience is gathered. Some of her apprentices look concerned while the others are secretly snickering.
What everybody has in common, though, is that they all seem curious of why she's this riled up.
Despite my burning desire to hit this woman to shut up, all I can do at that moment is stoop low and clench my fists. Mother did tell me to respect elders all the time, but since the head seamstress is clearly not asking for mine, I'll just endure this for Mother's sake.
Once I've been allowed to leave, I finally let out a breathe I've been holding.
This only proves that not everyone here has the same viewpoint as Sol's, after all. Yet, even though the head seamstress threw all those insults, her reasons were quite vague.
I'm just as stupefied as the others inside the shop. Perhaps, the fact that I was just playing around is glaringly obvious on my sketches, or it could also be that I somehow offended her or something.
"No use getting depressed over one loss. I should just find another!" I enthused, pumping my fists with unyielding determination.
Then, with an optimistic attitude, I decided to continue my quest. Giving up now is the same as giving in to starvation.
I may not have any passion yet, but I do have the stamina to stomach an insensible mockery and a few futile attempts.
But then, a few hours later, I find myself thinking that it's easier said than done.
One loss soon turned into three, then five and all the way to seven. At the end of the day, I was rejected by every workshop I'd been to.
I tried to take upon Sol's idea about applying to an art gallery on my second attempt.
"Your work is… unique, but I'm afraid my scope doesn't include this subject."
On my third, I went to a boutique and presented my creations.
"Huh?! What's this?! You don't expect me to teach you how to make such things, do you?"
For my fourth and fifth attempts, I looked through a couple of crafting workshops, but unfortunately, I didn't do great during my trial tests.
My last two endeavours had something to do with sewing again, but just like the first one, I only earned a series of ear-bleeding reproaches.
It all felt like I'm dancing on needles. The instructors kept poking sarcasm on me, turning the whole situation into one, big charade.
A charade since once again, I've got no idea what's exactly their problem with my drawings.
"What's so wrong with my sketches, anyway? They don't look that terrible," I groaned, flipping over the pages of my portfolio.
Since I've been admonished several times already, I can no longer neglect this. I should at least find a fault or two so I can correct them.
"Then, your designs… I mean, that explains why they're somewhat unrealistic. I've never seen them before."
Upon recalling Sol's words, it finally clicked in my head.
It's just like yesterday's incident.
The way I dress, along with the way I turn my imagination into reality, appears queer.
It's not about how I drew them, rather it's what I drew. I wasn't even able to have my way back in my hometown, so it shouldn't be surprising to experience something worse in another place.
"Ugh...! Just what a weid girl like me should do, then…?"
But then, I realized I didn't really feel that miserable even after being turned down seven times.
At most, I'm just feeling upset. It's probably because I don't have what Sol called as 'passion'. If anything, this is but a momentary unhappiness.
I don't even know if I'll be overjoyed once I get accepted to an apprenticeship I just picked out of nowhere. Sure, there'll be a sense of accomplishment, but that's only because I'll be assured of my daily necessities.
I won't be able to find the meaning of searching oneself with such half-baked resolves.
Then again, I'm clueless about how I should exactly find myself begin with.
"Argh…! I don't care anymore…! Why even train or work? I could just marry off to a nobleman or something! I'll be able to live a lavish life in no time!"
Not even two days in, my mind's already befuddled on so many things.
Eventually, I decided to give up for today.
Though I'm worried that my money will run out if I keep going at such a slow pace, I also know that continuing my search now will only be a struggle in vain. I'm already exhausted just from hearing those people yapping.
Now that I think about it, they really don't have to be so rough just to get their message cross. They don't show any delicacy to newcomers at all.
"I came to apply, not to be judged. Thank you very much!" I scoffed in miff.
Set on going back to the inn for today, I storm down a busy street immersed in the red-orange afternoon hues.
Even with a crowd engaging in idle chatters, the surroundings give off a reposeful ambience that somewhat eases my tantrum little by little. Watching the sunset on the horizon gives me a moment of peace and comfort – a resplendent view reminiscent of my hometown.
"That's right, let's just try again tomorrow…"
Upon returning to the inn, I almost stumble in surprise when I find the receptionist lady getting dragged away.
She's yelling about something as she gets hauled by the arm. It's a middle-aged man wearing a sumptuous suit who's forcing her out of the door.
"You should've just paid for your debt already, woman!"
"And sell this place?! Never!"
"Then, I'll just have to do this the hard way!"
Leaving no room for second thoughts, I instantly rush towards the scene and snatch his wrist away from her, glaring daggers at him in vexation.
Both of them react to this in flummox. I don't really care if I get called a busybody, though.
"It's rude to treat a lady so roughly, Mister."
He just snorts at me before retrieving his arm aggressively. Unfazed, I only steel my gaze at him in return.
"Just what does a little girl can do? Mind your own business! Play with your dolls or something."
"What about you? Aren't you too old to be goofing around a defenseless woman like this?"
"Why you...!"
As he's about to pounce on me, utterly enraged, I catch his arm once again and gather all my strenght to flip him backward, sending him yelping in pain on the ground. The receptionist lady gasps at this, but I'm too peeved by his pugnacious behavior to pay attention.
"And that's another reason why you shouldn't treat a lady so roughly..."