Dieu Vous Aime

Lost Souls:

Notes:

I'm trying something different. I'm not putting Person's POV before each pov. Want to see if it flows better in this different and more traditional(?) format. Polite and constructive criticism is welcome. And comments are welcome as always.
❤️
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"

You deserve a happy ending, too."

"I'll find'm. I'll bring'm home. It's not like we're never gonna see each other again."

Our conversation echoes in my mind as I wake up in the ocean, salt water in my mouth as I gasp for air and fight the current to stand on my feet as I near the shore.

I slowly crawl across the bench and reach a small container of rain water and drink it, not caring if it's contaminated or not. I'm thirsty. And fuck, I'm hungry too. Where the fuck am I?

I start walking and slowly find my way to a seaside town. Destruction everywhere, as to be expected since the whole fucking world is nothing but death and suffering; more so now than it had been before.

I find some supplies and when I find a tape recorder I listen to the recordings as I camp.

France. That's where I am apparently. Fucking wonderful. God fucking damn it.

"My name's Daryl Dixon. I come from a place called the Commonwealth. It's in America. I went out looking for something, and all I found was trouble. If I don't make it back, I want them to know I tried. Hell, I'm still trying."

I finish making my own recording before going on. I ran into some more walkers of course, as always. But these were different. At least the one that grabbed my arm. It was like acid was covering its hand. Whatever the fuck it was it sure fucking hurt like a son of a bitch.

Dieu vous aime.

"God loves you."

Yeah right. I scoff to myself after translating the poster with the book I'd found and continuing on.

~

When Sister Isabelle brought in the American, I had conflicting thoughts about the entire situation.

Another English speaker!?
Possible threat, can't trust anyone now. If you ever could before.
Damn, he's kinda hot.

The third thought was after the American was treated and had cleaned up of course.

"How'd you come to be in France?" Isa asked him.

I could hear their conversation as I stood outside of the room, standing guard beside the doorway in the hall.

"A bunch of bad decisions," his gruff voice answered.

That voice… ugh, I'm swooning over a man during an apocalypse; there are definitely more important things to be focusing on right now than my libido or carnal thoughts. But he sure is tempting.

Not like I'm a nun anyway, I think to myself with a quiet chuckle while glancing at my Lokean ring absently.

Isabelle and the American, Daryl Dixon, come out of the room while I'm thinking and I nod at them both with a blank face. I raise a brow slightly as I openly scan Daryl's body and give an appreciative nod. He seems to blush slightly and swallow nervously before quickly turning back to Isa and asking her questions.

I noticed they'd bandaged his left arm; a Brûlant got him is what Isabelle had told me while the man had been unconscious. Hopefully the honey garlic I gave Isabelle will be enough to treat his arm and other wounds; cauterization only helps Brûlant burn so much. And he definitely seems like the type to not sit still and definitely get dirty.

Mind, stay outta the gutter…

“What's yer name anyway?”

“Michael McLaughlin… but most folks around here call me Mike,” I answer, and he seems slightly surprised that I was speaking English.

“Yer an American?” he asks in surprise.

I nod, “Yeah,” a tired sigh escapes my lips before I continue to explain, “I was a college student before the fall. I was in Germany because of the Foreign Exchange Student program. Was supposed to go home after a year there. But the world ended and I was stuck. I traveled around on my own for the most part and then I met Isa here and she saved my life.”

Daryl’s brow is still slightly furrowed in thought but I feel like he always has a furrowed or tense facial expression.

“Huh,” he says simply before looking at one of the swords on the wall, “You've got two of them things on ye,” he comments, not really a question.

I nod, “Yeah, my Curved Saracen Scimitar Sword,” I say, touching the larger sword on my left hip before tapping the other shorter sword, “and a typical short sword. The Scimitar is better for fighting on horseback ‘cause if the blade shape… you any good with swords?”

Daryl shrugs, “eh, used machete's quite a bit before though. A friend of mine-” he stops for a moment in thought before blinking and finishing his statement, “a friend of mine, she has a samurai sword and she's really freakin' good with it. My niece has a small sword as well…”

Daryl moves away from the swords and continues looking at the weapons. He ends up grabbing a gun and a flail.

“What's this?” He questions as he lifts the flail, “think I've seen these ‘fore…”

“It's called a flail. It's like a mace but with a chain between the handle and the blungering part,” I say simply, gesturing to the mace on my right hip by my revolver incase he didn't know what a mace was, “I personally like the mace more but that's cause I know my clumsy ass would wack myself with the frickin’ flail if I tried usin' it.”

I smiled when Daryl snorted and chuckled softly at my comment.

“Well, let's hope I ain't as clumsy as ye are,” he says with an almost playful gleam in his blue eyes and a hint of smile tugging at his lips.

Isabella casts me knowing look when we meet eyes before she speaks, “Laugh, I'm going to get Daryl here some food to eat but Mother Superior wants to talk with us soon.”

Aka: Mother Superior is going to be questioning Isabella’s decision of saving Daryl and Isa needs me to support her against Superior.

I nod, “Ight then, Isa,”

“Laugh?” Daryl questions as Isa gets him some food and I lean against a pillar beside him a few moments later.

“An affectionate shortening of my last name, McLaughlin…”

Daryl nods, a slightly amused snort escaping him, “Well, that's an interestin' nickname… especially in an apocalypse. Ain't much to laugh about now days.”

“Never really was a lot to laugh about before either but yet people somehow managed to still find joy regardless…” I say before Isa gives him the food and we go to where Mother Superior stands on the level above.

“I think he's the one,” Isa says.

“The Messenger?” Mother Superior questions in disbelief but also curiosity.

"All I know is that he's another, oh what did you call me once, Isa?" I ponder for a moment before nodding, "L'ame perdue."

Isa chuckles and nods, "We're all a lost soul at some point in our lives, Laugh."

Mother Superior actually nodded in agreement. I happened to glance down and see Daryl looking up at us for a moment before he began speaking with Laurent. Well, Laurent was speaking to him.

"L'ame perdue…"