It had been a fluke, truly, finding the royal guard at the door to his home, and mothers shop. Echo hadn't been back to the Fae realm in years, hadn't dared step anywhere near in fear he would drown in guilt, in the feeling that he'd failed the woman who had raised him by letting her legacy fall to nothing but an empty workroom and an dust-ridden order book that had not been filled out in upwards of 8 years now. He'd been 18 when she'd died. 20 when he'd left.
Two years. That was all he'd given to the shop, all he'd bothered to try before deeming it a failure and running away.
Her grave still sat undisturbed at the bottom of the garden, and he could see it in the corner of his eye as the man from a world far from this one explained that his mother had been summoned to create a series of outfits for a young prince, as word had travelled of her designs and her ability to turn simple fabric into artwork on a persons body. Echo hadn't had the heart, nor balls quite frankly, to tell this man she was dead. He'd simply told him he would pass on the message, thanked him for making the journey, and let him leave.
A series of poor, terrible, horrendous decisions had led to Echo standing here, staring up at the boat with a large box of carefully wrapped outfits being yanked from his arms with promises of the payment will be sent to the same address in the currency of your choosing, please keep an eye out for it. He'd spent hours putting them all together, working tirelessly to create things she might be proud of, knowing they weren't up to her standard but hoping... praying they were good enough to ease some of his guilt.
Right now, guilt was the very last thing on his mind as his eyes locked up onto that walkway, to the procession of royalty that boarded that ship. To the man who's measurements had been handed to him on a slip of well crafted, headed paper mere weeks ago.
Gods, he was breathtaking.
So was the ship, in a different way. Travelling the world... Oh, to have the money and status for that. He sighed, hands resting in the pockets of his tattered leather coat, and went to turn on his heel - but that's when he saw it. The smaller entrance, lower down. The door that was mostly unmanned, staff too busy running boxes and luggage in and out at a rapid pace, running late for their departure time. His eyes flicked to the pile of said luggage they were running back and forth to.
He couldn't... could he? He looked up at the ship again, to the prince disappearing into it's depths. He'd never get a chance like this again.
His feet were carrying him before logic could catch up. He swept up one of the crates from just out of sight, hurrying towards the entrance looking very much like he was supposed to be there - at least that's what he hoped.
"Hey, wait. You, stop-..." A voice called, and Echo froze, looking back at the man in question. Curled hair covered the points of his ears, and for a moment he was thankful he'd let it grow out some.
"Yeah?" He asked, pretending to be somewhat out of breath as the porter ran up to him, immediately grabbing for the label on the crate. He read it, looking as rushed as anyone else and-...
"Thank fuck. We've been looking everywhere for that. Quick, get it inside before the guards have both of our heads for this. What the fuck are you standing around for, go-"
Echo needed no further encouragement. He nodded rapidly, rushing forward and right into the ship. And then, he disappeared. Into the maze of luggage, weaving in and out of the smallest gaps until he found a door. And then he was in a hall, the lower class passengers - probably all staff - looking around for their rooms. Ah, right. That was going to be a problem. He pushed himself against the crowd of people, and with the smallest hand movement, took one ticket from a group of people that had already been torn, just in case.
