Project 43: Healing

Weaving Through

"It was nice meeting you," Yelena called as she gathered her belongings back to a small black bag. "Even tho you did make me fall through two floors."

Elias hummed in response, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed. Yelena had been a strange acquaintance, but for some reason, she felt like an important one. Elias wasn't sure if he was supposed to act like her friend or a stranger. She was unreadable, completely honest, oddly friendly, but strangely cold in an instant.

"You sure your head's good to go?" Elias asked with a raised eyebrow. By that point, he had learned that not everyone heals at superspeeds like he or his brother do. 

"As long as it's attached to my head, it'll be fine," Yelena joked, throwing her bag over her shoulder.

"Good luck with whatever it is that you do," she added before walking out.

Elias needed to figure out what to do next. He thought about the Alps, maybe disappearing into a small mountain village, or maybe he could find a cottage for himself on the coast of Norway and spend his days fishing away. Whatever his next step might be, he needed to move from the mold-infested apartment with no light or air.

His bag wasn't as empty as it had once been, now that Shuri had forced more clothes and 'basic necessities' onto him. It was still light enough for Elias to barely feel the weight and empty enough for him to be able to stuff it in weird hiding spots. That bag had gone through a lot, but, like with most of his belongings, Elias was oddly protective of it. He wasn't going to get a new one before that one broke apart, and even then, he would be up in arms with a needle and some thread to try and keep his traveling companion in action.

The wound under Elias' arm had almost completely healed by the time he decided to move, leaving behind only a thin white line below his armpit. 

Navigating the stairway was even more difficult now that there were a couple of brand-new holes in the floor. Elias was careful not to touch the handrail and placed every step with precision, ready for the floor to give in under his boot. By some luck, he still managed to make it down the stairs and through the heavy door. 

There was no reason for the sun to shine so brightly. Elias took it as a personal attack as he stepped outside and had to cover his eyes from the bright, blazing ball of light in the sky. He pulled down his cap, hoping that it could shield him from the sun as well as the eyes of overly curious bystanders.

He needed food, maybe for a couple of days. There was a ferry from Tangier, Morocco, straight to Genoa, Italy, from where Elias could make his way inland. Just a few years earlier, he had been backpacking through Italy and managed to stay widely under the radar. With some luck, Elias could be in Tangier by nightfall and board the next possible ship. That meant he needed enough food to last him at least three days, four just to be safe.

It felt like the city was still trying to wake itself up. A couple of people wandered down the streets, but all the people Elias had spent his night observing had crawled back into their homes to hide from the sun. 

Soon enough, Elias found where all the people had disappeared to. The marketplace was filled with people, color, and loud haggling. Elias tried to blend into his surroundings and not attract too much attention, which turned out to be quite easy, as everyone was too busy with their own lives to care about a figure weaving through the mass of people.

Soon enough, Elias found a man who seemed to be drowning in fruits and vegetables. He had a bright blue shirt, a wide smile, and a seemingly endless supply of energy as he started conversing with Elias, assuming that the man spoke Arabic. Luckily, Elias had picked up just a couple of words over the years and was able to communicate the rest of his fruit needs by gestures and expressions.