Omarr had spent literal years working odd jobs to save money to make this trip to Faerune. Years of planning his travel route, dreaming of a happy reunion and a new family that would welcome him into a warm home with open arms (and worrying that his grandmother wouldn’t want anything to do with him).
And now he was finally here stood there on the Notaras’ front step looking up in absolute awe.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath — his mother’s words ringing in his ears:
I can’t stop you from going, but just prepare yourself for the worst.
Omarr was ready.
Or… he thought he was. Until the door opened.
“Hi, I’m sorry to bother you…” he’d rehearsed this line so many times but nothing could have prepared him for the man that met him at the door. This… wasn’t Rosa.
Omarr looked from the man down to the scrap of paper where he jotted the address then back up to the man at the door. “I’m… sorry. Hi, my name is Omarr.” He tried again, swallowing the sharp pang of disappointment and embarrassment he was beginning to feel, “I’m lookin’ for a Miss Rosa?” Reaching into his back pocket he retrieved an old photo he cut from a newspaper article years ago, showing it to the man hesitantly, “This… This is the Notaras residence…” Omarr shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the next. Everything he owned was in the duffle swung over his shoulder. He didn’t even know where he was going to stay the night. There was no plan B. “— Right?”
@ofterrafirma
