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SSC
Falling
As the world falls down.
Falling
As the world falls down.
Falling.
Falling.
Falling.
Falling in love
-David Bowie "As The World Falls Down"
Daryl's face hurt from all the scowling. Ever since his little argument with Vivian all he could think about was how embarrassed he felt.
Embarrassed and slightly aroused.
Now every time he saw her, strutting about in her usual way, his gaze lingered on her longer than usual. Ever since he discovered that she was a dancer it's all he could see in her, the slight sashay of her hips, her poised perfect stance and her toned tan arms.
She certainly danced her way around him. Daryl still felt the bruise on his ego, he rather die than admit he deserved it. He was surprised he let her get away with it but she was just so damn fearless calling him what she did.
He could just picture Merle, clutching his stomach and laughing at the situation.
Where did she get the balls?
Daryl wanted to punish her, in the way he could—by ignoring her entirely, but it was more agonizing than he thought. Clearly the woman had managed to attach herself onto his daily routines like a blood sucking leech.
She was all he could think about, all he noticed and all he cursed. He knew the inevitable day of their next hunting trip was coming up, he didn't know what he was going to do then.
To make matters worse, Rick had approached him the very day she called him Daryline and told him to give Vivian back her knives. Considering she had earned her keep and all. Daryl didn't want Rick to know he was trying to avoid her, though everyone pretty much had their suspicions but chose to be ignorant. He begrudgingly agreed and Rick grinned and gave him a pat on the back before walking off to farm.
Now it was two days later and Daryl found it increasingly hard to remember why he was mad at her. The confusion only stirred whenever he saw that smiling face and bright forest green eyes. He itched to speak to her, or just stand there and wait until she usually said something.
Determined to find distractions like cleaning out his crossbow or maybe Carol needed help with something. Daryl walked in the direction of his cell block only to come face to face with Vivian when he rounded the corner.
They stood there staring at each other, startled for a moment but then an impish smile curved at her lips.
"Hey Daryl."
It literally took him like a second to turn away and begin to walk in the direction he came from. I sighed in exasperation and had to take long strides to keep up with him.
"Oh come on, you can't still be mad at me." I exclaimed behind him once I reached him I swiftly poked him in the back—I felt nothing but muscle under my finger tip.
"You started it." I reminded firmly. He stopped and rotated to face me, grabbing my attention in the fierce way he glared.
"I started it? Girl yer hankerin' fer a good spankin'." He said in his most 'threatening' tone.
I bit my lip to suppress a rising laugh "Spankin', people still say that?"
He did not look amused, I immediately stopped smiling.
"I am sorry okay?" My sincere apology seemed to ease him and for a moment he looked genuinely satisfied, until that smug smirk of his returned.
He folded his arms over his wide chest while holding my gaze "Glad ya came te yer senses, I was waitin' for an apology."
"Really? You were waiting? What about my apology?" I demanded accusingly, braising my hands on my hips to feel a little in control of the situation. But damn it, his glittering blue eyes made my knees feel all weird.
"I was just statin da truth; yer da one who had a hissy fit." He remarked as if he was stating a fact, I gaped in both disgust and shock.
"Me? You are unbe—ah forget it." There was no point in arguing with this Hill Billy, even if I win he will go back to ignoring me and I don't really need that. Besides, I am the adult here.
Shooting him one annoyed look I stuck my hand into my pant pocket and pulled out my sticks of beef jerky wrapped in clear plastic. I tore it at the end and brought the dried meat to my lips and bit down before harshly yanking off a piece. I chewed purposefully, I would have used gum but I don't want to go near that expired shit and the best they had was jerky.
"Where did you find that?" Daryl's stern inquiry made me stop chewing and swallow nervously.
"I uh found it, in the kitchen. Just lying around." I stated hesitant to take another bite when his stare seemed to condemn me.
"Just lying around?" He echoed disbelievingly, lifting on dark winged brow at me. I looked between him and the beef jerky in my hand.
"Yeah... in a cupboard" Okay so it wasn't exactly lying around and was technically looking for it and I didn't just find it. "I was hungry okay if you are going to go report me or some shit just go do it."
I was waiting for him give me a real good scolding for scavenging around the kitchen for food, but he looked more entertained than cross.
"Give me some of that." He ordered reaching out and taking a strip of beef jerky in my hold. He brought to his lips and ate is a lot more gracefully than I did, then again I always liked feeling like Princess Mononoke when eating dried meat.
"So we are cool?" I asked, he paused chewing for a moment to give me a once over.
"Whatever." He grumbled indifferently, I tried not to seem too perturbed by that considering how much I was used to basic courteousness. Then again, Daryl is not like most men.
I am not even that bothered to be honest, I just need him to teach me more about hunting because as much as I hated to admit it—I had a great deal to learn from him.
"Great, because you know...Luna missed you." Well she did, the dog was pretty restless whenever we passed Daryl and I didn't greet him.
"Why would she miss me? I saw 'er a few minutes ago." He said gesturing behind him with the tip of his thumb.
Well I wasn't expecting to hear that, somebody must be neutered.
"That slut." I huffed and my gaze snapped to the corners of the Blocks and in the direction of the farm to see if she was around. That dog is going to get a serious tongue lashing from me. Clearly there is no girl code between us, she goes and sees the man anyway.
"She hasn't humped your leg recently has she?" I asked cautious and serious. Daryl stared at me as if trying to tell if I was just kidding around, but my firm expression caused him to grimace.
"No." He stated hastily like my words had physically violated him. "Nasty." He breathed crossing his arms over his chest in distaste.
"Oh good, cause she is really into you."
Daryl rolled his eyes, abruptly turned and stalked off. I watched him, bewildered by his departure. I stood there a little confused and unsure of what to do next while watching his retreating back, but then he stopped and turned to face me, staring expectantly.
"Come on den." He uttered with an impatient nudge of his head.
"For what?" I responded, hesitant to approach him.
"Ya want yer knives back or not?" I was a little annoyed by the 'matter of fact' way he stated that, like I could read his mind.
I didn't know whether to be flattered or insulted.
"Trick question?" I bit back sarcastically, he shot me a glare. I grinned and approached him.
Wonder what he has stuck up his bum, a pineapple?
I followed him to Cell Block C. I was a little awed to be honest. The place reminded me of one of those most unlikely places to be renovated on a Martha Stewart magazine or something.
There was a steel desk in the centre of the room, piled on top of it was a lantern, a hamper full of neatly folded clothes. Five stools surrounded the table; to the side was another desk, pressed to the wall on my right. To my left a wooden bench stood against the wall between the second and third cell. The place looked homey, in comparison to my previous block that was a lot more spacious.
Daryl had walked off to his cell in haste; I wasn't really that eager to follow him, I was too marveled by my surroundings.
These people really built a home here; did they really think normalcy could be achieved? Ever?
I found it hard to believe. More than that, I found myself thinking about my apartment. I pushed back the feelings of longing, there was no sense dwelling on something you can never get back.
"Hey, Vivian." I was startled out of my thoughts when Beth's smiling face appeared, bright and radiant as ever.
"Hello, Beth how is...stuff?" My energetic greeting dulled down to wonder at the sight of the little human in Beth's arms. It was a baby. I had to blink a dozen times to make sure I wasn't seeing things.
She was chubby little thing with, soft looking crop of blonde hair and big blue eyes that stared right at me. The infant's little fingers were gripping at the side of Beth's blouse as the young girl balanced the child on her hip.
"Who is this?" I asked to fill the silence that probably made me look like a total freak, staring at the baby so blatantly. Beth didn't seem to mind and her smile only widened as she glanced at the child.
"Judith, Judith meet Vivian." She introduced us, though I doubted the baby was intellectual enough to know what an 'introduction' was.
"Hi." I greeted, awkwardly. Well that is just the cutest thing I have ever seen, look at those blue eyes "I can't remember the last time I saw a baby."
"I can't remember the last time I saw a dog." Beth retorted cheekily, I grinned and nodded in agreement.
"We are both surprised then."
Whoa, a baby. I was not expecting that. The place felt sacred now.
Judith watching me made me feel nervous. I was never good with children or babies. Carl I can manage because that kid has that maturity about him, the kind you get when you are forced to grow up too fast. Kids on the other than demand attention, love, friendship, a teacher and believe me when I say, I am none of those things.
How could I be when the best example I ever had was my sadistic/ controlling mother.
"Vivi-anne, get over here." I rolled my eyes at Daryl's infamous tone, Beth giggled, clearly amused by his title for me. Sighing in annoyance I excused myself from the blonde girl and the baby and followed the direction I heard his voice.
Daryl was standing in what I assumed to be, his cell. Sweaty stench—check. Crossbow in the corner—check. Absences of top the bunk—check.
Yup this was definitely Daryl Dixon's living quarters.
He was standing facing his bed and turned to face me when I had arrived; I shot him a look full of defiance.
"Why do you insist on calling me that? It's Vivian." I corrected mimicking his matter of fact tone.
"What I sed, Vivi-anne." He replied guilelessly, I was genuinely staggered. Was he kidding around or could he really not stop exaggerating my name?
"Here are yer tools." He said, gesturing and open hand to his mattress. I was a little dumbstruck by the neatly arrange pile of my knives on his bed. They were all there and brought back so many memories.
My drop-point knife was on the further left, with its ebony handle and its curved blade. A lot of trial and error and accidental stabbings made me realize that knife was not for killing zombies with. Trust me; it was more useful when it came to gutting and skinning because it did the least harm to the meat.
That was only one I probably knew the actual name of—that was because the store I stole it from had the thing on display with a name tang underneath, I was in too much of a hurry to glance at the names of the others— the rest of them I pretty much named as I saw fit, based on their competence in my eyes.
Aw my babies. They were so shiny and clean looking...
Wait a minute, last time I remember they were slightly on the blunt side with mud and other unmentionable bits stuck in their hilts.
"Did you clean them?" I asked looking to Daryl. He scratched at the back of his shaggy hair and avoided my gaze; he almost seemed abashed by the gratifying discovery.
"I had ta; the walker blud caked over them was stinkin' up da place." He grumbled like it was a chore, I resisted the urge to shake my head in disbelief and smiled instead.
"Well thanks. Hans has been needing a good sharpening." I said and lowered my body down on to my knees beside the bunk, my fingers tentatively running over the cool steel.
"Hans?" Daryl questioned gruffly, I craned my neck to see him.
"Hans Gruber. You know... from Die Hard?" Sexist Villain ever, next to Christian Bale.
"Hans..." He echoed, as if familiar with the name. I mean who wouldn't be? Daryl looked like a die hard—Die Hard fan.
He joined me on the floor, sitting on the on his rear with his legs crossed in front of him.
"What's this one called?" He asked pointing to another weapon, I my gaze followed the direction of his arm.
Speaking of Christian—hottie hot hottie—Bale "American Psycho, psycho for short."
I stated picking up the blade by the hilt. There were many reasons why I named it after one of my most beloved movies. One, the blade was flatter and wider in comparison to the others and the shape resembled a shark fin— but it looked more like an axe to me, hence the name.
Daryl was giving me one of those looks that seemed to wonder if I am mad, funny or just plain sad. My response was an eye roll and pathetic shrug.
"What, you think I had a Scrabble out there? I was bored sue me." I grumbled, defensively folding my arms over my chest and averting my gaze to the blades.
"First o'all, yer insultin' the tools. They have specific names."
"Well I am all ears." I uttered, more than eager to learn. I was expecting him to whine in some way, tell me he wasn't a teacher and I was too old and retarded to learn about badass weaponry.
But surprisingly, he didn't.
Poising himself, Daryl reached over and picked up Hans by its sturdy handle. Hans's blade was thinner and the steel stretched out straight until its midpoint, from the middle on-wards the blade was curved inward kinda like a rhino's horn, with a very sharp pointed edge.
Daryl pressed the tip of his finger to the tip of the blade and admired it. The steel gleamed shooting a quick beam of light my way.
"Yer Hans is known as a Clip-point. Bro of yer Drop-point der." He stated, gesturing to the drop-point.
"Their brothers?" I echoed in vague amazement. Maybe I should change their names to something more fitting. Do I know any movies with two crime fighting brothers?
The muscles on my thigh felt sore and stretched from being in a kneeling position for too long. I fell back onto my rear and made myself more comfortable by mimicking Daryl's position.
"Psycho 'ere is da Skinner." He continued his lesson, gesturing to the American psycho.
"Skinner, chilling." I mused while my head bobbed in approved, impressed by the title.
"Bowie." He picked up the knife that looked similar to the Clip-point except it was lengthier, almost the length of a Colt. I referred to that knife as the Plunger, mainly because I had worked it blunt when defending myself against zombies. It was lighter and I could move faster with that particular blade.
In that moment however, I was thoroughly humored by its name.
"Bowie? Isn't it a little plain to be a Bowie?" I joked, I swear the entire Labyrinth soundtrack was echoing in my head, not that I minded. Yup, the knife needed a little more flair, a dash of blond extensions and maybe some glitter to pass off as a Bowie.
"See now your crossbow that looks like a Bowie." I teased giving a glance in the direction of Daryl's precious cross bow. His eyes narrowed to disapproving slits, but the corner of his mouth was curved up in a playful smirk.
"Don't be namin' ma weapon after a she-man, disrespectin' it." He scolded.
"Hey David Bowie is a legend, I'll cut you." Being a fellow Bowie fan myself, I was highly offended and deadly serious. Okay maybe not deadly serious, Daryl certainly wasn't scared.
"Aite Stabby Joe." He snorted disbelievingly; I sat up alert, my gaze immediately darting to the knives at the sound of the familiar title.
"Stabby Joe, I don't see him here." I realized, among my five knives the smallest one was missing.
Oh right, it's in Luna's belt strap.
Daryl watched her, slyly. This woman was so damned ridiculous. She didn't know shit about weapons yet she had managed to survive in the woods with a dog for a whole year. He would have paid good money to have seen how she fended for herself in the time she spent on her own, but at the thought of her being miserable would have forced him to help her out.
Quite vigorously.
As weird as she was, she made Daryl felt even stranger. He didn't know how to describe it but it certainly wasn't in a blood sucking leech way. No, this was more intimate, deeper. He could feel it in his core, when she glanced at him with those twinkling forest green eyes and grin full of mischief.
His insides fluttered in a way that both scared and thrilled him.
Damn it, Daryl couldn't deny it anymore.
He had missed her.