(Ok fully admitting that I wanted to indulge a bit with my OC so I wrote this up because, hey, gotta fit in something non-angsty before I slam you all with what I have next. Anyways, short and sweet.)
Mornings in Germany during the early spring months were often cold where Sylvester lived, far up north in a small traditional area. His shop was set aside in an alley way, wedged between a candy shop and a funeral home. He liked to entertain the idea that he had the best of both worlds - candies and cadavers all in one shot. In the end, though, most business came from the occasional tourist who drifted in, curious about the perfumery set aside. All he had to do was weave an elaborate tale and show off a few fancy bottles and he had them in a heartbeat.
The residents were not as easy to impress. They drifted by his shop as they went about their lives, squinting their eyes and scowling at the tall pale man standing within. He would send them a friendly smile in return and revel at how their scowls would merely grow until it seemed their faces were about to be consumed by their bitterness.
He wished.
More than once, though, this distrust personified itself in ugly manners. Shopping for groceries, for example, led to issues ranging from being pushed aside to being at yelled at by other customers which was quite nerve wracking. Lynnette, whom he had confined all these experiences to, had written more than once asking why he didnât just up and leave. Sylvester asked himself that as well. His shop had been spray painted and trashed but no one dared to lay a hand on him. Men stood in front of the women who drew their children closer into their bosoms whenever he passed, leaving a trail of unease and rose perfume in his wake. The town did not trust his presence and Sylvester did not trust the town. So why stay?
The answer came one day in the form of a small girl with red gloves and a knitted cap who, entirely by chance, found her way in his shop one day. It was a sunny day, one of the few, and the bottles in Oleander Inc. display case were shining brilliantly in the rays. The girl had previously been in the music shop across the street and had been captivated by the light show across the way.
âBe safe!â She called out as the little girl burst from the shop to hurry across the way. She nudged open the door, smiling a bit at the jingle of silver bells attached to the frame, before making her way to a man seated at a desk.
When Sylvester looked up from his papers he saw the cap before the girl. Brilliant white and hand stitched, it sat upon a mop of blonde hair and two wide brown eyes, which burned into him.
"Allo." A small voice squeaked. Sylvester blinked and set his pen down.
"Allo. How may I help you?" He was not experienced with children; his knowledge being limited to his one year with Lynnette. The girl smiled and pointed to the window.
"I like your pretty bottles." She was very straight forward with her purpose, at least. Sylvester looked to where she was gesturing, before moving out from behind the desk.
"The perfume bottles?" He asked. The girl nodded and walked to the display case, her gloved hands running over the curves of blown glass like it was something to pet. Sylvester trailed along behind her, noting that she only reached up to his waist. She couldnât be no more than seven years old.
"Can I hold it? I wonât drop it." She pleaded, looking up at him with what one could call âpuppy dog eyesâ. He did not feel comfortable allowing a child to hold his creations; they were far too valuable to be replaced. The girl continued with her unrelenting stare, though, and after a moment of staring back, Sylvester found himself giving in. He plucked a bottle off the case and held it out to the girl, who took it from his hands and cradled it close to her chest with a surprising delicacy.
"Theyâre quite pretty, arenât they? All of them are hand made, and theyâre quite special."
"Are they magic?"
"Ah," He didnât know how to phrase this correctly for her. "I wouldnât say theyâll give you powers, but they are very special. Each one serves a purpose here." The girl looked down to the bottle and back up at him, squinting against the sun to see his face better. Sylvester shifted on his heels. He was not quite sure what to make of this.
"Do fairies make them?"
"...Yes. Yes, they do." This was a lie. "They create each bottle to be given to all the people who come by, whether they be old, like me, or young, like you. I just keep them safe."
The girlâs innocent expression tugged at something that made him resist the urge to ruin her imagination. A smile split across her face, revealing two gaps where front teeth had been. Sylvester hesitantly smiled back while aware of how strained and unnatural the motion felt. It was the first real smile he had worn in a long time.
The tender moment was interrupted, however, by the jingling of the bells attached to the front door, indicating another customer entering. A woman decked in furs and cheap smelling perfume bustled in, her cheeks flushed red either from makeup or the cold.
"Sophia!" She scolded, hurrying to the girlâs side and plucking the bottle from her grip. The girlâs smile dropped and Sylvester felt a scowl replace his previously content look. The woman set the bottle back onto the shelf and sent him a smile.
"I am so sorry about her, Herr. Sheâs still so young and everything to her is to be touched." She picked up Sophia and held her on her waist, kissing the girlâs pink cheek while she was at it. "I hope she wasnât a bother?" She looked to Sylvester who gave her a more strained smile in return.
"Ah, I understand. I have a little cousin who is much the same way. I didnât mind her here - she has quite the imagination, she does." The woman let out a laugh at this.
"She does! She has her father to thank for that, donât you? Filling your head with all those stories of his." Sophia nodded and rested her head on her motherâs shoulder. Sylvester observed the two and felt a bit of envy at the sight.
"Anyway, Herr, we should head out. My apologies again for Sophia!" Sylvester raised his hand and shook his head, smile still in place.
"No worries. Feel free to stop by anytime, yes?" The woman smiled and thanked him again before turning to leave. As she approached the door, Sophia raised her head a bit to look at him.
"Can the fairies make a bottle for me?" She asked. Sylvester hesitated for a moment as the mother paused and looked back at him.
"Of course, Iâll see what I can do." He said softly. Sophia gave him one last gap-toothed smile, and then they were gone. The bells chiming signified their exit and Sylvester let out the breath he was unaware he had been holding. That could have gone worse, he supposed. He carefully made his way back to his desk and settled down into the chair before picking up the pen once more. Fairies may make the bottles, but they donât help with the bills.
#project hail mary
#lana del rey
