The Orphanage

The party ended up at a restaurant called Slogar’s which serves traditional Karnatic cuisine. The altercation with the Sharn Watch officers and the goblins we caught was a mess. I didn’t care about that anymore, we had other things to talk about.
 
The servings here are pretty filling and affordable. 5 copper pieces for quite a huge serving? And it’s meat? Not bad.
 
After the planning has finished—more or less—I sense Oi feeling a bit troubled. She walks off and I follow after her. She has been feeling quite a lot of things today, including nostalgia. I have a feeling she either lived here for a bit or maybe grew up here, even. She seems to know a lot about Sharn too.
 
I followed her into the High Walls district. Strangely enough, this is where the orphanage was. While we were walking, memories of my blurry childhood started to flow. I was still at the orphanage during the Last War. This place is crowded. It seems to be a refugee camp now.
 
I start to realize a few things from my blurry childhood:
1) some of the kids in the orphanage were children of the imprisoned from the Last War
2) the orphanage did the bare minimum; just the bare minimum to keep us alive
3) despite this setting, these kids were still content with the situation anyway. Just like how I was when I was a kid.
 
The government seems to continue to let people in, causing this place to be pretty overpopulated already. There are tents and makeshift houses piled up with one another, not knowing where it starts or where it ends.
 
I can’t believe this is the environment I lived in for eight years. Eight. Years. For eight years, I endured this, then I was introduced to a life of comfort after being adopted by Jiraiya. I guess you could say he saved me. But then again, from how I remember it, I was just…content. I wasn’t miserable, but I wasn’t happy either. I was happier when Jiraiya adopted me, of course. He taught me a lot of things. What I am today, he contributed to it. Which reminds me, I don’t know what to feel about going back to the Dark Lanterns HQ. They expected a lot from me, being the daughter of “the great Jiraiya Zoldyck”.
 
We continue walking and I see the most familiar building here in the area—it’s big, more prominent and decent looking compared to the other structures. There is a playground nearby. It was the orphanage, still standing, even though the roof has caved a little.
 
I sense strong emotions from Oi.
“Are you from here?” I ask her.
She is taken aback by my straightforwardness and avoids my question. She even asked me why I followed her all the way here. I followed up with another question, but I tell her anyway:
“I grew up here.”
 
We then share our stories of a little of our childhood memories—how this place was familiar to us, realizations of how living here was not at best.
 
—
 
7 year old Raven
 
“Tag, you’re it!” a half-orc kid exclaimed as he tagged one of the dwarves.
 
It was play time at the orphanage. The kids were at the open grounds, concrete flooring surrounded by nearly dying plants. It was a sad excuse for a garden. The grounds were an open area within the orphanage building.
 
I’m not really sure why I didn’t like joining these games, or why I preferred to do physical activities alone. Probably because of Vakri. She seemed to be a tough warrior, always training and meditating on her own. I wonder where her hometown, Dal Quor, is. I wonder why she appears in my sleep. Like I know her. A weird friend I’ve always known but never met. I guess you could say she’s my hero. After all, I look up to her. She’s like this friend in my head.
 
I look at the other side of the open grounds and see a bunch of kids bullying a much younger kid—maybe around 5 or 6 years old—a half-elf with platinum hair. The child is crying. I think they took her bread. Maybe I should go there…no…Vakri wouldn’t…the half-elf child should be strong enough to fight for herself…yes…Vakri would fight for herself.
 
I ignore the other children and continue to focus on my mind training and meditation.
 
—
 
After talking, a ball flies into our direction, coming from the playground. A bunch of kids run out and try to chase the ball. There’s a kid with a bowl cut. There’s a kid with glasses. There’s a fat kid. There’s a thin kid. There’s a kid that looks like Thorin. These kids pass through us. They’re kicking the ball around, running after each other.
 
They were happy.
 
Oi decides to go inside the orphanage to attend to some matters. I tell her I’ll wait for her outside, because I have no business with the orphanage anymore.
 
After a while, Oi comes out with something in her hand. A lady in her 40s, looking quite frail, sees me and waves at me. Oh, it’s her. One of the adults from before. She’s still here. I smile and wave back.
 
“Let’s go Violet,” Oi exclaimed.
 
Ha, Violet. I haven’t heard that name in a long time. It was the name the orphanage gave me, since I was dropped off as a baby with no records. They were so lazy and too occupied with multiple kids that they just named me after the color of my eyes.
 
Oi was able to find out her real name. She told me her name was Raine. But for practical purposes, she said we should just stick to calling her Oi.
 
I felt a feeling of closure from her after this orphanage visit.
 
We decide to walk back and do some shopping. Maybe this could be the start of a friendship.