This hat of mine was passed down to me by my father, and to him from his father. It’s a family heirloom of sorts.
My father he treated it with kid gloves, kept it locked away in some cabinet, a relic of a bygone era, or a sign of respect to his own father. I don’t know, I’m not sure exactly. I asked him many times why he wouldn’t wear the hat and all I got was a whole load of silent treatment. The hat did not move one inch during the whole time it belonged to him.
But my grandfather? This hat saw some shit when it was with him. He wore it across all the levels of Arcadia he saw, and it was there through all the adventures he went on. Every death-defying stunt. Every undercover mission. It was still on his head the day he died. He lived and breathed this hat.
So when my father died, and the hat fell to me, I swore that I would hold it in the same high regard as my grandfather, not locked up, away from the world. I remember placing it on my head that first time and a feeling coming over me. And since that feeling came over me that hat has been everywhere with me. My hardiest companion after Colt. I’ve taken it into thieves dens, I’ve held on through fire and flame. I’ve taken it to every match I’ve had in OSW.
It means something.
What does a hat mean to you, Narcissa? A hat to you is just an aesthetic choice. ‘Will this hat look good with my floor length emerald green side split dress, complete with sequins?’ you ask. You prayed to the fashion gods that be, and they sent you back a message: ‘that’s so last season’.
Because everything is so disposable to you, nothing has consequence for you, Narcy. I lose something, it hurts. You lose something, it doesn’t. It can just be replaced right? The best parts of fast fashion. And when you’re done, the hat cast aside like some worthless bit of plastic floating across an empty desert.
But for me the hat is a symbol of all the good that me and my grandfather have ever done. And the day I lay this hat down is the day I leave this place. I’ve come close, before, to hanging up the hat and leaving all of this behind, but then I remembered, the hat stays with its champion until the death. It stayed with my grandfather through his death. It stays with me until I know exactly what comes next. And for now, as long as life is eternal, the hat stays off the hook and firmly on my head.
That’s because my time here is nowhere near done. I have so much left to explore. But where is yours, Narcissa? Where is your hat? My feeling is that you hung it up the day Zeus came back from the dead. Well if you’ve truly hung it up, Narcissa, you may as well be as dead as we all thought Zeus was…