Of Lorenz Theory & Love

Jimmy & Darcy: The Mauve Flat Prophecy

Charmed CW characters belong to Charmed CW. Denis and Tera, Darcy, Della, and Dora Valensi are my imagination at work. Light 1940s research was conducted for context.

10 Jimmy & Darcy: The Mauve Flat Prophecy

1:10 am, Oldham, Greater Manchester, The Mauve Flat, Darcy's Bedroom, July 1941

Having nervously stepped into Darcy's candlelit room, Jimmy soon regained his composure as he spotted her vinyl records collection. He was relieved that the litany of candles were mostly on overhead shelving; making his way to her miniature music library wouldn't elicit an accidental fire.

The flickering candle flames trembling against the plum and mauve, the dangling multitude of crystals and the wafting incense, soon gave Jimmy a sense of mystical, otherworldly ambiance.

After several minutes of thumbing through her vinyls, one stood out in particular—the 1937 theater production of "Babes In Arms." He mouthed "May I?" as he motioned to the nearby phonograph.

Darcy nodded, viewing his reflection through her mirror, as she finished removing her glittering stage makeup. She often felt the pressure to conform to showgirl standards and wear heavier, caked makeup, with advertisements she constantly saw of talcum powder and so-claimed "genuine" Egyptian kohl. Despite this, Darcy generally opted for a more minimalist approach, emphasizing her prominent cheekbones and her sensuous burgundy lips.

Jimmy laid the vinyl record on the turnstile, adjusting the overhead needle until the character Billie Smith could be heard crooning the song "My Funny Valentine" to his one-and-only Valentine "Val" LaMar. They listened in rapt attention, together.

1:20 am, Oldham, Greater Manchester, The Mauve Flat, Darcy's Bedroom, July 1941

The phonograph skipped a beat, and the vinyl record had reached its sudden, static-filled end.

"Tell me, Darcy, how did someone as lovely and talented as you, end up in Oldham, Manchester, of all places?" Jimmy asked, breaking the silence, now cross-legged on her surprisingly soft-and-inviting queen-sized bed.

Darcy, still seated, turned around, facing him from a mere couple of feet away. Jimmy felt she exhibited an aura of grace and enthralling sparkle that glowed mysteriously from within, even without the makeup she wiped off.

"The record you heard playing was an 18th birthday gift from funds Dora and Della, my sisters, pulled together, specially ordered from America. I had been dabbling in jazz, you see, and singing for as long as I could remember."

"Is there more to Darcy though?" Jimmy pressed. "What's your full name?"

Darcy suggestively raised an eyebrow. "If I told you, I would have to kill you."

Jimmy noticeably blanched.

"Kidding!!" Darcy burst into peals of laughter, breaking the ice. After a momentary pause, she went on. "My name is Darcy Madalena Valensi, and a recent time ago, I made my way to Manchester on a hope and a wish, to pursue my dreams of being a jazz singer. Of course, that meant leaving Dora and Della behind in our Pico home at the Azores Islands, and forever abandoning my shared familial role as an herbal healer." Darcy's visage then clouded, as she mulled over whether Jimmy could be trusted with an additional nugget of knowledge.

"Is there something you want to tell me?" Jimmy asked, seeing the strange expression on her face.

"Well...now that you mention it..." Darcy's voice trailed off. Her eyes touched on her immediate surroundings—the trinkets, the tchotchkes, the crystals, the candles, the sheer amount of purple permeating the room.

"...Do you believe in magic?"

1:30 am, Oldham, Greater Manchester, The Mauve Flat, Darcy's Bedroom, July 1941

Jimmy mulled over the question in his mind. Having been in theater, he was used to all sorts of superstitious perspectives. "As in, pulling a rabbit out of a magician's top hat?"

"Not exactly—" Darcy replied. "Do you believe in prophecy?"

"Akin to predestination—that your life is already planned out for you, no matter what?" Jimmy posited.

"Sort of. When I was a child, an elderly female soothsayer in Pico foretold that at the tender age of twenty-one, I would die from, (and I quote), 'that which fell from the sky.'" Darcy stated, matter-of-factly.

"And you and your family believed the soothsayer?" asked Jimmy, a bit skeptical. "What if it were all made up? Or what if it were all a strange misunderstanding?"

Darcy shook her head. "The elderly woman was very well-respected throughout the Azorian community. The Nostradamus of the town. At the time, my family owned a blossoming coconut grove, but soon sold it upon hearing these words."

"But—" faltered Jimmy, trying to think of anything that would counteract the prediction—"maybe the woman lost her marbles?"

"I thought at first, maybe that was the case. And indeed, I would have forgotten about such words, but little incidents kept happening, each growing in seriousness. One day, I was pelted by sugar beets unceremoniously hurled by a São Miguel bullfinch. Another day, a stalk of tobacco nearly felled my leg. It was never-ending, and each escalated into another unfortunate happenstance, and then another. It was always when I least expected it. After an incident where a banana tree nearly caused me a concussion a year ago, it was agreed that I would pursue my music career far away from the Azores, to give me the best possible chance at self-preservation. As it happens, I learned through the music grapevine that the renowned Tessera Nightclub in Manchester was advertising for a jazz singer, and I figured I had as good a chance as any."

"How old are you, Darcy?" Jimmy then asked.

"Twenty-one since August of last year," replied Darcy.

"Then—assuming what you say is true," Jimmy went through the scenario mentally, "you have..." he checked his calculations—"less than one month to live?"

"So it would seem."