Her mother gave her the name Chidera because it was holy. But the boys and girls in town did not believe her to be so and they coined her a hellish name: Chimera.
Chimera was clever and bright as the rest, but she was not beautiful. The boys and girls did not even care that she was wealthy or noble either for she had skin dark as a raven and as if wasn't enough she had been peppered with spots.
Like a dalmatian, some children said.
Like a cow.
But one, a boy well versed in Greek, gave her the reputation that stuck.
In deed to them she was a mutant. To some even a nightmare. Half beautiful, half beast. If only all of her skin had been milk and honey like theirs, how they would bow to her feet. But alas it was not.
The boy was a known jester. The other children patted him on the back as he made jokes so boisterous even the murals on the walls seemed to chuckle at him. But he too could be softened. Everyday he would hear tragic melodies echoing through the marble buildings and he couldn't help but be drawn to then. One day he had managed to be alone long enough to pinpoint where the music was coming from and like a compass he was pulled in its direction. He pressed his back up against the cold stone outside and listened like it was made just for him. Days later, he had finally garnered the courage to see who wielded such beauty.
His jaw dropped when he saw Chimera with her legs wrapped around a golden harp, strumming what felt like the strings of his heart. She was so engrossed in her performance that she hadn't even noticed the intruder. When she finally opened her eyes, they filled with rage.
"What business do you have being in here?"
"None, none at all..." he began to back away, nearly wanting to spin on his heel and run before she had the chance to look him in the eye. Yet he had no desire. He felt nothing but admiration and shame.
"Please leave. I never want to see you again, and I'm sure you don't want to see me." She rose from her stool and began to walk past him but he couldn't watch her walk away. Instead, he did the unthinkable and grasped her elbow. She looked at him with such confusion, such distaste he wondered if there was a single thing he could say that would make her not want to gouge his eyes. He found nothing, so he said nothing. Chimera pulled her arm away from him.
"You make beautiful music," he said sloppily, his mouth turning to clay. Chimera scoffed.
"I know I do. I have studied it for years, I play it every single day. I am not here for charity. I am here because I am just like all the rest of you."
"Except for your skin." He said. Her face was a portrait of disappointment.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it in a bad way."
"Oh you didn't," she said, circling around him slowly, feeling him out, "were you not the one that first called me Chimera, Demetrius? Named after a Goddess, of harvest no less. Yet with the ego of Zeus himself." Demetrius flushed immediately. He had never meant to hurt her, or anyone for that matter, but he knew himself to be crude. And he didn't much help it.
"You're right. I apologize, Chidera. I promise I will never utter the word again."
That was how it commenced. The other children had grown to like the nickname and threw it around like rice at a wedding but Demetrius only called her Chidera from then on. And he hoped one day she would trust him enough to let him call her Chidi. Whenever Demetrius was alone and Chidera's fingers were restless they sat together in the domed room with cherubs on the ceiling and he listened to her play like the music was the air he breathed. Then they would split pomegranates and let their laughter bounce off the walls, dreaming of pressing their sticky stained lips together.
