The challenge was for me to write a story with the prompt 'she sleeps with guns', and thus, here you go. I really don't know if Rosette sleeps with guns, but heck, let's pretend. From Chrno's point of view. I'm really not crazy about the beginning or ending, but I'm posting this anyways because I'm staying at my Neechan's house for three nights and won't get another chance to post something. Warning for spoilers if you haven't seen episode eighteen. Alright, please review my lovely readers.
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She sleeps with guns.
Sometimes it worries me that she can be so distrustful. I know well that our line of work is less than secure, of course, and yet I still dare wish to be the one to protect her. The one confided in, the one resorted to- not some steel killing contraption.
At times it's hard to believe she with such vigor has fears as well, as her resolve rarely displays trace of falter. Is this how she brought herself to bear with heartache?
I desire to know more about her.
Her lips had seemed delicate; inviting. Her skin, tepid and flushed under my palm. From lack of rest, or the moment's entice? I had drawn her close, confining her in these hostile arms… the arms that had claimed the demise of so many lives… taking in the smells she emitted, the placid fragrance of rosemary…
There are moments when all we can do is entrust ourselves to the current, and make with our wit. There are times when our sanity flickers, leaving us to wallow in the despair of the shadows. Minutes when we question our judgment, when we veil the fearful musings underneath steadfast composure, awaiting time to replenish faith.
All I can do is to protect her, whether beside or abroad.
I owe to her at least this.
My Rosette, who sleeps with guns.