Power of Love - Frankie Goes to Hollywood
"Will you finally believe that you need the people around you just as much as they need you?"
Cecilia's voice broke the silence in the tent, Daryl squinting his eyes and sitting himself up in his bed. She sat cross-legged at the entrance, which she had zipped shut behind her. Daryl scoffed and shook his head,
"No one needs me here. They got a doctor, runners, fighters-"
"It doesn't matter who they have." She leaned forward and she spoke the words, shaking her head and trying to meet his stare.
"They need you, Daryl. Please believe me." Cecilia continued, Daryl unable to accept the words, waving them off.
"You don't know what they're like-"
"-I need you."
The statement came out flat and honest, Daryl peering over at the desperation on her face.
"I lost everything that kept me alive. Right before my eyes." She continued, Daryl recalling the fresh memories that would stay in his mind forever, just like they would in Cecilia's.
"I don't feel needed by everyone else, but imma stay for you, m'kay?" Daryl replied, which Cecilia could sort of agree with, but she always believed he was needed by everyone that was on the farm at the minute.
"You promise?" She held up her pinky finger, Daryl scanning the finger up and down as if it was an alien, Cecilia rolling her eyes and sighing.
She grabbed his hand and lifted it up, wrapping her smallest digit around his, Daryl squeezing softly.
"I promise." He agreed, Cecilia smiling and untangling their hands.
Cecilia hopped up happily, practically skipping out of the tent to the fresh campfire the others had made, sitting herself between Rick and Glenn.
"So, Cece, do you have a Native American background?" Carl asked her curiously, remembering the conversations they had recently, some of them involving tribal events.
"Yeah, I do actually. My father and his ancestors were all Native American. Me and my family were in a tribe." Cecilia smiled as Daryl came out from the tent, sitting basically opposite her between T-Dog and Carl.
"A tribe?! That's so cool! Did you have to do tribal dances and wear weird clothes 'n' stuff?" Carl asked excitedly, Lori nudging him as some of the group members chuckled, including Cecilia.
"We only did that stuff when there was a special gathering of the group; on a normal day, we'd be wearing the same clothes as anyone else." Cecilia shot down the false fact, however all of the new information about her was still incredibly interesting.
"So, you had a Chief?" T-Dog more or less asked than said, Cecilia nodding.
"We did indeed, a man named Corntassel. My dad was like the Chief of the house though." Cecilia smiled gently at the thought of her father, Carl inputting once again.
"Did he get to wear a headdress?" Carl wondered, always finding the feathered crowns as being very amazing, holding a lot of history within them.
"Yeah, a lot of people did." Cecilia replied.
"How come you didn't?" Carol asked her in her small voice.
"You have to earn every feather that makes up that headdress. Through acts of strength and bravery. It's not something you can just buy from the local store and immediately become a part of the tribe. You must earn it." Cecilia responded, briefly explaining the traditional requirements of earning a headdress.
"What tribe were you a part of?" Rick queried, Cecilia grinning as she spoke the words,
"The Cherokees."
That must've have flicked on Carl's hyperactive switch, as he immediately opened his mouth to speak.
"Daryl told me a story about the mother's crying for their lost Cherokee soldiers and the Cherokee rose grew were they had cried." Carl remembered, glancing between Daryl and Cecilia.
"I love that story." She nodded at Daryl, who had a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. The moment of quietness was broken yet again by Carl, but everyone else was becoming just as curious as he was, secretly.
"Do you think it's true? It goes against science, nature-"
"-Carl! I'm sorry, he's into all that biology, chemistry stuff." Lori stopped him, becoming offended for Cecilia, even though she didn't mind.
"It was scientists who once believed the earth was flat. Some believe that event was sent from the Heavens. From Him." Cecilia stated truthfully, Carl's eyes glazing over with sheer interest.
"Do you?"
Cecilia sighed, debating on whether she wanted to start filling Carl's mind with the truth; which not a lot of people could handle these days.
"And shall come forth; they that have done good, unto the resurrection of life; and they that have done evil, unto the resurrection of the damnation."
"Is that from the bible?" Carl asked further, Cecilia nodding her head.
"Yes. That was a prediction. A warning. God created the world so that man would spread the word of Him along with love. He gave us his creation for us to care for it, to love thy neighbour, to go forth and multiply, to live long and prosper!" She repeated the quotes from the bible, staring deep into the burning fire.
"And look at the mess we made of it." She said in barely a whisper, everyone suddenly appearing more somber than infatuated now.
"Will you tell us a story?" Carol wanted to erase the sadness that etched back into the circle, the group looking over at Cecilia as she smiled, primarily to herself.
Her father told her this story.
"A strapping young man went to fight against a world that had turned grey. He encountered many enemies, suffered many injuries, and fought through every type of weather imaginable. One day he walked down a lonesome road with no company but his weapon. Just a revolver with one single bullet left.
He encountered a dark figure stood before him. Whilst finding the dark figure's eyes, he simply thought for one moment.The young man had lost everything. His family, his clothing, his food, his drink, his hope. He had saved the bullet with the intentions of using it on himself if there was nothing to be found at the end of the road. Maybe the dark figure would put him out of his misery first, as he raised his gun to the young man's head. He stood, almost perfectly still. Then a gunshot echoed through the lonesome street. The dark figure had fallen to the ground in a large heap, the young man speaking the words in barely a whisper,
"I have stared death in the face. And he blinked first."
