a singular object | syrena

[dars]

SYRENA
FRAY.

It was indeed a strange thing to enter the world as one part of a whole- an interchangeable thing which even her parents used to confuse over when they were still alive. Trylle was there in the womb with them too, of course, but as soon as they were out he'd been three steps behind them, always desperate to catch up and knowing damn well he'd never be good enough to. Even his name was rooted in the word 'three'. But Syrena and Elvena always viewed themselves as two halves of the same thing. Elvena had no social grace because it had all been afforded to Syrena. Syrena had no conviction in training because it always came more naturally to Elvena. When they got into trouble that they could talk themselves out of, Syrena's words always did the job, and when they got into trouble they couldn't avoid, Elvena's fists always left the best impressions. They were an unstoppable duo, but ultimately a far too dependent one.

And then Elvena died in the Games. Syrena thought it was because she'd gone in alone, tried to do the job of two people all by herself. She tried to substitute Elvena's presence with Charlie, even considered inviting Trylle out for coffee a couple of times. But it was never the same. There was never that silent communication of eye contact, a whole language that never even had to be spoken. She always found herself spelling out every little thing. And ultimately, she found that she functioned better as a singular entity: a starring attraction rather than a fun ride at a big park.

There was nothing wrong with being in the spotlight, and the truth was that when people lined up to see a Jacques painting, they never bothered to look at the others nearby. And that was okay, so far as Syrena was concerned. It was then that her career in modelling really first took off. And now here she was, gearing up for fashion week in District Eight, set to take place only a few months after the 95th Hunger Games. Three years since she looked to her right and managed to find her sister standing next to her.

She leaned in closer to the mirror, settling for a reflection as a friend, and applied her lipstick before shoving the tube back into her purse, kissing at the air. "You've got this, girl," she said, and she knew she did. The Capitol designer waiting in the other room had already all but confirmed he wanted her in his show, and she hadn't even walked for him yet. Speaking of, shook off the last remnants of nerves, turned and headed for the door.

She had a job to book.

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