And there was Cyrus, sitting cross-legged with his eyes closed, breathing easy in the time-stopped air. She never understood how he could do that. Still. he stiffened up at the sound of her heels clicking against the ground, opening one eye to turn his head and glance at her, and immediantly went back to... Whatever it was. She sighed and pulled the strap of her purse tighter, hoping that none of the contents had spilled.
"Hello, Cyrus." Cynthia said when she reached him, trying to hide her nervousness. Cyrus seemed to clutch at his pants legs near his knees in annoyance. "Cynthia." he said flatly. She sat down next to him, legs spread out in front of her lazily.
"I don't understand how you can stay out here, Cyrus." she said with a sigh. "It's so... Dead."
He groaned and opened his eyes. "It's an ideal place for training. Time stops here. Aging stops. Everything is paused." He held his hand out in front of his face, as if studying it, clenching it and streaching out the fingers. A little island of land with a waterfall on it floated by.
"You can't stay here forever, you know. Though I imagine the term 'No one wants to live forever' flies past you." Cynthia replied with a bit of a smile. He could probably snap her in two at any given moment, but toying with him was so worth it.
He growled a bit, and went back to... Tempering his spirit. That was it. She studied him, his form looking even paler in the light (un-light?) of the area. The thing that really unnerved her was that he really did look the same as the last time she saw him. Not paler. Not thinner. Not anything.
Except for the fact that one pant leg was torn and the bit of flesh she could see looked like someone had stomped on it with extra-sharp cleats. She wasn't used to such gore! "Cyrus! What did you do to yourself!?"
He half-opened on eye and looked down. "Oh, yes. That. There was a small rockslide and it trapped my leg. No harm done." he said, in an almost dreary sort of way. Cynthia, of course continued to freak out.
"Are you crazy!? You could get infected just leaving it out like that!" she shouted at him. She began digging through her black purse frantically, hoping it didn't fall out.
"It's... Nothing, Cynthia. Stop worrying over me." he said, staring at her. She ignored him, pulling out a first-aid kit and immediantly opening it up, digging through for whatever could help. There was no stopping her, so he sighed and uncrossed his leg, streaching the injured one out. She moved towards it and began dabbing at it with some medicated wipe, cringing and wiping up the blood. Cynthia, to him, was just hopeless, overflowing with emotion. It would take years to even reach Cyrus's perfection at his worse for her.
Still, a little part of him admitted it was kind and idiotic to help with his leg. She tossed the bloody wipe over the small dusty island they were on where it lazily floated somewhere else, grabbed a roll of gauze and wrapped it around his leg. "Like I was saying..." she began, ripping the gauze and patting it down. "You can't stay here forever. Especially without proper supplies."
He looked away from her. "I am fine on my own." Cynthia stuffed the kit back into her purse and standing up.
"Then prove you can walk on that leg." Cynthia said, crossing her arms. He glared at her and pushed himself up, and soon as he rested a bit of wait on the hastily bandage leg, pain shot through him and he stumbled forward, placing a hand on Cynthia's shoulder to try and steady himself. Cynthia smirked and immediantly contemplated telling him off.
Then the little dusty, floating island they stood on shifted suddenly.
Cynthia lurched foward, taking Cyrus down with her and ending up with her head resting again the chest of a rather shocked looking man, who, when she looked up, had a rather healthy trail of blush across his face, for once in his life. And the only word either of them could really choke out was "Um."
It was a cozy few minutes, or hours, or some passage of time in the real world, just alone and quiet in a backwards world, no sound except the whoosing of other islands and each other's breathing. Eventually the thought snapped back to Cyrus and in a flash, he shoved her to the ground, pinning her hands over her head and glaring holes into her. He really was training.
"Never do that again." he snarled, giving her wrists a firm and painful squeeze before standing up and limping over to the edge of the island to peacefully sit again, crossing his legs and closing his eyes again. It took a few minutes for it to hit Cynthia about what just happened. She stood up and looked back at him. "Yes, I certainly intended to tackle you, Cyrus."
"Please, refrain from returning here." he replied, back still turned to her. "Your prescense causes emotions to bubble up in me and you are fully aware that I hate that."
She raised an eyebrow. "Really? Like what?"
"Agitation, mostly. Some anger. A fair bit of confusion." he never missed a beat in the way he spoke. Cynthia gave a sigh of disapointment and started to walk away, back to the regular world. "See ya next week, Cyrus." The click of her high-heels faded into oblivion.
"And happiness. Sweet, loving happiness."