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bluecoolr · 1 year ago

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CYLAS I'm so happy this chapter made you so excited AAAAAA 💕🥹

For Life Or Until Fault

Alt Timeline 2.0 - Darrell x Odile (Part 6)

Warnings: MINORS DNI! Main characters are slasher ocs. Implied murder. Mutual stalking involved.

Darrell belongs to me ♥︎

Odile belongs to @solmints-messyocdiary

Tagging my beloved @ajarofpickledtears who might get a kick out of this 🥹💕

Footsteps were muffled by the dusty, dull green carpet. Hardly anyone was at the library, and Darrell was sure that this might just be the norm. He waited for the kindly librarian to find the newspaper article he had asked for.

They huddled in front of a computer hooked up to a microfiche reader, sifting through page after page of old local newsprint. Finally, the librarian gave a satisfied "Ah!"

"Here we are," she told Darrell cheerfully, "I'll leave you to it, then."

She stepped aside to let Darrell slide into the chair in front of the monitor. "If you want to print anything," she said, "the computer's linked to the printer so just click this little picture here."

Darrell thanked her and began to read the article about the accident the town had simply dubbed as "The Fire". Not out of indifference, but of grim aversion. It was a ghastly thing, a tragic event that supposedly took the lives of a woman, a kindly priest, and his quaint charge.

Overturned candles, the authorities suspected, or some electrical problem. It could all have been easily avoided. Such a shame.

Perhaps by some printer's mishap, the photographs of Father Henrik and the woman were grainy. Parts of their faces were even blotted out completely.

Her, however. Her face was bright as day.

Odile, the description read, church custodian.

A timid beauty that drew the eyes to her spot on the page, where she presided like a saint over adverts and small town news.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed a slender figure lingering by the bookshelves. It was the ring leader from his last visit, swaying in place with her baby braids and her school skirt perched too high on her waist. Darrell kept his eyes on the screen.

An article - no bigger than his palm - ruefully declared that yet another body had been found gutted and impaled on a pike. No doubt the work of the killer the press had dubbed "Tepeş" - The Impaler - after the infamous Wallachian prince. Curiously, all his victims had been men who had a history of violence.

The governor was quoted to say, "I would not trade this horror for less congested jails. There is a perverse gratification in this for this individual."

That had been years ago. As far as Darrell knew, the killer had never been caught.

He hit a button and headed for the printer.

Her picture was warm in his hands, and he trembled as he folded away the parts that didn't matter.

At the book checkout, the little minx strolled up beside him, bearing a racy vampire novel in her hands. She ventured for small talk. Darrell tried to make it evident that he wasn't interested. She was however, persistent. "Who's she?" she asked, eyeing the picture.

Darrell covetously snuck Odile between the pages of the book he'd picked. She watched him draw his lips into a tight line. "She isn't your girlfriend is she?" She chuckled. "If she were, she'd give you her picture herself. You wouldn't need to print it from the library."

"You like him? He's quite a character."

Darrell glanced at his book's cover. Vlad the Impaler: His Life and Exploits, the title read.

"I think he's awful," Darrell told her. "But I'm feeling quite nosy today. Might want to get all up in his business. No school today?"

"Done for the day."

"What year are you in?"

"11."

"That makes you… what 16?"

"Yep." The young girl flashed him a pretty smile, revealing a row of perfect white teeth.

"I'm 31," Darrell said pointedly.

"I don't mind."

Darrell nodded once. "But your mother will. Maybe I'll have a talk with her."

The color drained from her face and her round eyes grew even wider. She suddenly looked like she wanted to get as far away from Darrell as she could.

"Look." He sighed. "You seem like a nice girl, ok? Don't waste your time on grunts like me. I promise I'm not at all that interesting."

He thanked the librarian for her help and made his quiet way to the door.

Darrell had seen no sign of the girl since their unfortunate first meeting. He'd left her little trinkets, apologies after he'd upset her, on a mossy footstone near the fringes of the forest.

So far she'd taken none of his gifts, but he did feel eyes on him when he came bearing new flowers - the last of that prematurely cold season. He pretended, then, not to notice as she pretended not to watch.

Sometimes, when Isabelle begged, Darrell would let her run to the forest to play with the girl. They seemed to be familiar with each other, and he caught himself smiling when he heard her giggle from somewhere in the woods. When he did spy her from a distance, he would venture a smile.

At last, she'd left carnations on the footstone for him, and he gladly took them home. The splash of color livened up the sickly yellow parlor.

One day, he woke up and took the 2-kilometer walk to the town. He purchased a pack of steaks from the lone supermarket. While leaving it out on the footstone, he hoped she had a stove. Hot food would certainly help with the cold weather.

He sat down beside his new offering, tired from the trip, and decided to rest before heading back to start the day's rounds. Somewhere between debating whether to start with the western or the eastern half of the cemetery, he fell into a doze.

The rustle of plastic wrap woke him with a start. He let out a soft gasp and froze.

There she was; Her posture tense. Her eyes blown wide; Grasping a blood-red steak in one hand, a ribbon of flesh making a bridge between her lips and her knuckle.

She began to scuttle away on her knees, and Darrell begged her to wait. "Please." He raised his hands as if to say I mean you no harm.

"I'm sorry," he said, his heart beating like a drum. Her brow crumpled in confusion. "About last time."

The recollection of their first meeting obviously made her embarrassed, and her eyes immediately became misty.

"Are you hungry?... C-cold? I… I can - want - to help, if you let me."

She dropped the steak and gingerly ran her palms over her arms, hugging herself. She looked into his face, trying to read his expression for any danger, any ruse.

"It's alright, Odile."

She gasped under her breath, and her eyes shifted into focus - her attention falling full on the man in front of her. The world seemed to grow sharper around the edges and she could see. The verdant hills beyond, the blue-gray heavens above, and the freckles on his face. It was all so clear.

"W-what?" she asked, her voice hardly rising over a whisper, as if she'd been roused from a deep slumber.

"Odile," he repeated, "I-is that your name? Odile?"

She felt a tug at her heartstrings and at the corners of her lips. Yes! Of course, how could she have forgotten? She had a name!

"Y-yes." She nodded. "My name… my name is Odile."

The smile he gave her was relieved, radiant. "That's a lovely name."

She quickly brushed the back of her hand over her cheeks, hoping he didn't catch the tears that had fallen.

"Well, hello, Odile. I'm Darrell," he said, "I'm happy we've properly met.”

"Here." He took off his jacket and draped it around her bare shoulders. She tucked herself into it, delighting in his warmth that was still enmeshed in the fabric.

He asked a question and she started, blinking blearily. "Hmm?"

“Shall we head for the manor? Get out of the cold?"

She nodded, and began to slowly reach for his outstretched hand. She jerked back. Tears suddenly welling from her eyes.

She stumbled back, fingers clinging still to the lapels of Darrell's jacket. She wasn't ready to let go just yet, but she told him what had plagued her since that day in the forest, "I-I've been horrible." Her next words were caught between a sob. "I didn't… I didn't mean to! I-I'm sorry!

"Oh, no, princess." Darrell flew to her side, brushing her arms to soothe her. "No, no, no, no, no. Please don't cry. It's alright."

"I-It's just that I was hungry and there was nothing left. I wouldn't have if I could, but-"

"I know," Darrell assured her. He pulled her to his chest, hastily wiping her tears away with his thumb.

"I'm sorry I did it. Oh, please," Odile wailed. "Don't hurt me."

Darrell took her face in his hands, wishing he could find the right thing to say to make her grief go away. "Nothing bad is going to happen to you," he told her. "I won't allow it. Okay? You poor girl. Shhh…"

"But they brought you here t-to find me… to make me pay.. f-for all my sins…"

Darrell stared into those olive green eyes, the pupils wide enough to look like chasms. Her nails dug crescents in his forearms, threatening to draw blood as she struggled to keep her breath even. He shook his head. "I swear, nothing will ever happen to you. I won't hurt you, and I won't give you to them."

"Please." Darrell could have winced at the way his voice cracked. "Come with me."

Odile was exhausted, and she was scared. But he offered warmth and kindness. Besides, Odile knew in her frail little heart, that there was no other place she wanted to be than with him.

#cylas my beloved #odile x darrell #alt timeline 2.0

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