Chapter Text
“Dyle.” Her stern voice bounced off the metal walls. I fought off a smirk. That woman could’ve projected from Gardenview to Paris without her even shouting. Dandicus would’ve pretended to have not heard her. Pissing Delilah off was his favorite hobby, after all.
I, however, placed the dish I was washing on the counter and spun around to face her. After all, wasn’t that the more polite thing to do than ignore her?
“Yes, Ms. Keen?” I asked, my words dripping with the sweetest honey. The ticking of my clock, though, seemed to muffle it a little. She clearly noticed this, twisting her face into a brief grimace.
“I need you in my office.” She said bitterly, exposing her loathing for my uncontrollable noise. I nodded, following as she briskly left the kitchen.
Gardenview was a vast facility, even with some of its rooms still under construction. All the courtesy of Delilah Keen and Arthur Walton, her partner in crime. Arthur was supposedly the creative mind, the writer of the show, while Delilah did most of the Toon-handling.
Toons. The word seemed almost strange to dwell on. Delilah and Arthur weren’t Toons. Yet I was, Dandicus was, Vee, Shelly, Astro, Sprout… who was the other one again? Oh yes, Pebble. The dog Dandicus took the liberty of “adopting”. I was personally never fond of dogs, or cats for that matter. Ponies interested me more for some unexplainable reason.
And then, of course, there were the new Toons. What did Delilah call them? Side characters?
“Dyle. Dyle Timesly.” Delilah snapped, derailing my train of thought. “We’re here.” She ushered me through the plainest door in the facility, a ‘Delilah Keen, Head of Production and Design’ nameplate nailed to it. Inside the room contrasted heavily from the blank white entrance, the walls painted a faint yet still noticeable cerulean decorated with papers containing Delilah’s concentrated sketches of Toons.
Delilah went to the farther side of the room where her desk–I remembered her mentioning some strange outside place called Ikea when she got it–and plopped down in the swivel chair that rested behind it. “Sit down,” she ordered, gesturing to the duller chair on the opposite side of her. I obeyed, folding my hands into my lap while her exasperated groans filled the air.
“God, Dyle, why are people so annoying?” Here we go. I thought as she ranted. Another one of her useless vents, one that could’ve been a conversation between Delilah and herself. “‘Where’s my paycheck, Delilah? Make more Toons, Delilah! Give me your decision by tonight, Delilah!’” She made the imitations about two octaves higher than her normal voice, something that agitated me but I’d grown accustomed to.
Delilah sighed, repositioning her slumping posture. “But anyways, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”
Oh shit.
I could practically sense the tension–or maybe anger–soon to arrive. It creeped on my back, sending a chill so cold the ticking sound could’ve frozen, halted entirely.
“Really?” I inquired, masking the fear in my voice.
She nodded. “We’re starting production tomorrow.”
There it was. The weight smashing my clockwork. The ice that froze my spine.
She’d made her decision. And something wiggled in my brain, something telling me it wouldn’t be one in my favor.
Still, I tried to act excited. “Is that so?” I smiled. “And you wanted to call in the show’s star?”
At first, she just stared at me. Then, to my surprise, she chuckled. The sound was gravelly, definitely not helping with my anxiety. I nervously joined in, then she began to cackle, causing the malicious sound to bounce off every blue wall.
“YOU? THE STAR?!” She gaffawed. “I’m sorry, Dyle, that just made me laugh. Did you really think you had a chance at this?”
The ticking suddenly seemed louder. Every sketch was watching me from the sides of the room, looming.
Yeah. I thought angrily. Maybe I did.
Delilah pouted a little, showing some fake pity. “You dumbass.”
.
I didn’t even know I’d uttered my ideations out loud. “I spent so much time trying to impress you!” I shouted, entirely abandoning any ‘politeness’ I’d formerly valued. “And you said it yourself! You said if I tried hard enough I could-”
Within milliseconds, Delilah’s expression changed. Her mouth twisted, her teeth bared, and her hand swiftly reached straight for my face.
I didn’t even get a chance to scream when she pulled the chain, sending black liquid splattering everywhere.