opposites attract // tilly

S Y R A C U S E

Syracuse was enjoying the silence. She trudged through the district, her gait more like a slinking panther than anything else as her feet moved across the ground. The air was dense in the forest today. It was abnormally warm for this time of the year.The humidity and heat was just unbearable, as if Syra was in the desert, thirsty and desperate. Although, this was absolutely nothing like a day in the desert. The young girl spun round and placed herself on a damp boulder, lodged inbetween two trees.

Just being in this area should have been a mood darkener for her. The light was faded for a second, creating new shadows and dark patches around her. Eyes glimmered from tree hollows. The wind wailed between the two tree trunks, carrying the sickly stink of wood rot. She huddled into her coat, ignoring the briars that caught at her jeans, the damp leaves that grimed her skin. Then, trees stood utterly still, statues in a living museum where no leaf dared to fall.

As if by magic.

Her heart beat against her ribcage, threatening to fall out of the white prison that kept it inside of her. Syra’s instincts her speaking to her, a hiss that barely sounded human, like hundreds of whispers at once: run, RUN! Syra decided to listen to the voice, springing up from her resting place and sprinting through the forest. Tree branches slapped against her body, trying to tint her her caramel coloured skin various shades of black and blue. Her movements sloppy and imprecise, she failed to run even moderately fast on the uneven ground of the forest, instead tripping on every tree root, stump or literally anything than ascended from the dirt.

She gulped down hard and started to slow down as the trees became more sparse, the forest got lighter and the climate became more pleasant. It cooled down an awful lot, and she felt happy. Arriving at the bottom of a hill, she immediately turned right. She had come to one of the paths leading in to the square of the district. Usually, they'd be busy on a weekend, and today was no exception. The nameless faces she saw- male, female, young, old- all blurred in to one anonymous face. Syra realised she probably looked out of place. Her arm was bruised and cut slightly from the branches, mud smattered against her boots, skin blackened considerably from god knows what. She got no strange looks though. Everyone seemed to be minding their own business, for a change.

Then, she was knocked backwards, landing against the ground with a loud thump. She looked up with an eyebrow raised at the person who had put her in this state. She didn't have much time to think when he opened his mouth.

"Ack, I'm so sorry. I really didn't mean to. It was my bad."

Your bad? Of course it was your bad, Syra thought, staring up at the boy with a look of distaste, before she spoke, he held out a hand to help her up. She lifted her hand and slapped it away forcefully before saying

"You should really watch where you're going, idiot!" The person probably thought that someone of Syra's elvish look wouldn't be so rude, but they were wrong. She proceeded to clench her teeth and place her hands on the ground lifting herself up. A shooting pain arrived at her left wrist. And she let out a subsequent "Ouch" for good measure.

S Y R A C U S E

No, this couldn't be happening. Not to her. If the wrist was broken, there wouldn’t be much housework she could do for a month. Her grandmother was getting old, as all grandmothers do. Syra needed to be able to tend to the animals. Coming to the realization that her wrist was more than just sore, she examined the damage. The exterior of her wrist was undamaged, save for an angry red patch. The internal damage, she could not be sure of.. All she knew was, it hurt like hell. She bit the inside of her cheek, breaking the skin slightly. she could taste blood.color] It trickled on her tounge, cold and metallic, and made it's way down her throat.

"Hey, I was just trying to be nice you know," The boy paused for a minute. "But really, I am sorry. It was an accident. Is your wrist alright?" She took a deep breath, inhaling air with a slight salty tinge to it. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

Syra waited there for a second. Taking in the moment. Wind swirled around her as if in some sort of dance. Twirling, prancing, laughing. She laughed too. An almost ironic laugh, quiet and soft although she definitely didn't feel those things.

"Well, thanks for being concerned. No, my wrist hurts like fuck. And yes, you can help. I need to get home." She spoke fast, the words flowing in to eachother, and although it seemed incomprehensible to Syra, she probably was imagining things and she spoke perfectly normal.