#spookysepheap21

[lovelyisadora]

[ID: a traditional drawing of a young woman with beige skin and windswept brown hair. she is wearing a torn green dress and her eyes are completely white. the background is grey and white. there is a streak of gold in her hair. /end ID]

“I am Syrah Syara. I am nineteen years old. I come from the Castle the island. I was am the Extra Ordinary Apprentice of Julius Pike. Island. I am Syrah Syara. I am Syrah Syara Syren.” -Syren

@septimusheapevents

[lovelyisadora]

Perchance to Scream

Syrah Syara doesn’t sleep anymore, though perhaps it is more accurate to say that she doesn’t think she sleeps anymore. It’s hard to tell when you don’t know the difference between dreams and reality, when time has stopped making sense.

Syrah is the Syren. Syrah is not the Syren. There is a boy on the island, a boy she’s seen before. She’s in the tower and Julius is there, alive. She’s in the tower and Julius is there, dead.

She’s taken to wandering the streets on the nights when nothing makes sense, the way the ghosts do. In a way, she’s a ghost herself. She may be living but time moved on without her long ago; there is nothing and no one she recognizes, and she never knows where or when she is.

Something is different this night, though. They think she holds no memory of the night she drew the questing stone. It is a fair enough assumption, she supposes. After all, many of her memories were displaced or fragmented during the centuries she spent in the Syren’s possession, and many more are long gone. But this particular memory is always there, under her skin like an itch she cannot scratch, like a scream stuck in her throat.

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@septimusheapevents