Disclaimer: Uh, hello, just want to say, that I would be amazingly happy I would be if I EVER owned Chrono Crusade, but alas, I do not, so yeah! So c'mon people and use your brains!!
The boat was getting set to leave as a young woman leaned against the metal railings, the wind catching her long, smooth hair, sending it whipping around her face. She just sighed deeply as the large horn sounded, filling the air with its deep timbre. She could have sworn her bones rattled from the engulfing noise. She could see her good friend, Sister Rena, waving at her from the dock, calling out to her with well wishes. She just waved at her and did her best to grin. She felt oddly lonely, leaving her home country of England.
The boat made its way from the dock with an agonizingly slow speed, the white crested waves rocking the large behemoth of a ship side to side. She watched the shores of England slowly disappear from her vision, replaced by the deep cobalt colored waters.
"Well, are you ready?" a smooth male voice spoke out behind her in a rough American accent. She just sighed in response, her shoulders sinking slowly.
"Well?" he asked, his voice having a commanding tone hidden in it.
"Yes, I'm ready, now will please stop bugging me," she replied softly in a gentle British accent.
"Hey, I've hired you, and I want to make sure you're no coward," he walked over to lean casually against the railing next to her, his soft leather jacket's hem brushing against the metal floor.
"And pray tell why did you come all the way to England just to get an assistant?" she asked, not willing to look at him. Her bright ruby red eyes stared at the gray-blue sky that was blotched with clouds. Her tan face turned upwards to stare at the sky.
"Because I needed a very talented assistant, and it seemed like you were the best," he replied, grinning at her, but she remained stony. Her hair streamed out behind her in silky waves. It was a deep coffee color until it reached to her shoulders, and then it turned a brilliant scarlet color. Her bangs were very long and she had to almost constantly push them out of her eyes and they too were scarlet tipped.
"I must say, you are quite cute, a lot cuter then the description Sister Evelyn gave me," he replied, tugging playfully on one of her ears.
They were pointed, and pierced, as was the fashion of many of the teenage girl's of England. While most of the holes (there were seven) were filled with small gold hoops, from her right ear dangled a long silver cross, inlaid with a ruby. Etched into the sides was a prayer in Latin, asking for her soul to be forgiven. It flashing in the cool morning light, and they were one of the few passengers brave enough to stand on the deck, amid the wood cargo boxes and biting wind.
"Well, it seems that at least one of us is enjoying ourselves," she muttered, watching the young man stick his head over the side, mouth open, as if tasting the wind.
"Stop that, you look like mutt," she moaned, feeling embarrassed to be seen with someone as outlandish as him.
His name was Eamon, he was an American, and an exorcist, a very good one at that. He traveled all over the world with his parents died, from demons. Occupational hazard, she guessed. Eamon was odd, and at times, very clumsy, and awkward, especially around older women, though she did not know why. She just sighed, the wind blowing her hair out behind her, and the salt in the air stinging her tongue. She bit it thoughtfully as she sat down on one of the crates and stared at her companion.
He greatly lacked manners, and he demanded to see her as soon as she woke up, so he first saw her in her white cotton night gown, hair still tousled from sleep. It was not the best way to meet a young man, as Sister Evelyn later lectured at her, but he said the moment she woke up, and so, she complied. She rested her chin on her hands and just sighed, staring at her boot covered feet. No matter what, she always dressed practically, and even though she wore a dress, she still wore boots, and knee length pants she nicked from Father Tomas.
"So, since you don't seem to be for talking, I might as well try to start a conversation. Do you mind if I ask you what's up with your name?" he asked her, sitting on the crate across from her. She looked up at him with a bored manner, he was about five inches taller then her, and it bugged her, having to look up to him.
"My name? What's wrong with it?" she asked, now curious, since no one else ever said anything was odd about her name.
"Well, it's Christopher Michael Gabriel is your name, correct?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow at her, "You don't think that it's a bit odd?"
"No, I mean, no one ever told me it was, and I wasn't very big on going outside the monastery," she replied simply, as though it answered his question. "Why is it odd, though?"
"Well, they're all mainly first names, and the names of saints, or archangels. Just curious as to why a mom would name her child something odd like that, and why her last name was Gabriel." He shrugged at her and just flexed his long, rough fingers.
"My mother's last name wasn't Gabriel," she replied, leaning forward to tie the laces on her brown leather boots.
"Well, then, why is your last name Gabriel then, when it wasn't your mother's? Was it your father's?" She just glared at him. He was very annoying, and pestered her to no end, but seeing as she would now be stuck helping him, she saw no reason as to why they had to remain strangers.
"Gabriel was not my mum or dad's last names. I have no clue what their last names were, and neither do my family at the monastery," she replied, shrugging like it was perfectly normal, "My mum died giving birth me, and my dad, we have no clue as to who my dad is."
"Well, that's a bit odd. Didn't your mother live at the monastery, didn't she have family who would want to claim her body, or a husband at the birth who could tell someone what her name was?" he just cocked an eyebrow. It was odd that she felt that this was so normal, he thought, that his life was as mundane as some content housewife.
"Gabriel was a moniker given to me by Sister Mona, the woman who delivered me, because above my mother were paintings of Gabriel and Michael. As you can see, they weren't very creative," she replied, giving him a weak smile, brushing a clump of hair behind an ear.
"So then, what's with Christopher?" he replied, "It's a male name ya' know."
"My mother's only piece of jewelry was a Saint Christopher medallion, so there you go, will you please leave me alone, you just dragged me away from my home country," she snapped at him, annoyed that this American was asking so many questions.
"Jeez, sorry," he replied sarcastically. The sky had slowly turned to twilight, and they would be arriving to America in two days (I think that's how long it takes…probably wrong, but just go with it) and she was beginning to think that it would last like an eternity. Her eyes were heavy from sleep, since Eamon woke her up early in the morning, and she had gotten to bed very late the previous night. He just silently got up, and walked slowly to sit down next to her, and she couldn't help but lean her head upon his shoulder. It was getting cold fast, and she was still wearing rather thin clothing, meant more for autumn with no wind, not for the burning cold of the sea's hurricane strength wind.
She slowly fell into a deep sleep as she breathed in the smell of Eamon. He didn't smell bad, more of leather and a soap, with a slight hint of a soft cologne. It was oddly soothing, she thought as she reached the "shores of sleep" as Sister Evelyn put it.
Eamon smiled softly at the young girl asleep on his shoulder, and gently pulled a small, worn envelope from the pocket of his jacket. He opened it one handed. It was simple.
It read that he needed to meet an exorcist and her partner at the docks. Their names were Rosette and Chrono, odd names, and that they would bring them to someone named Sister Kate. That was it.
He just sighed and gently tucked the envelope back in his pocket. He looked at the girl sleeping, her eyes closed peacefully. She had a metal disk hanging from a sturdy silver chain. He smiled slightly at seeing it was a St. Christopher medal.
He gently moved away from her, letting her lay down, curled on the crate's hard top. Eamon delicately picked her up, cradling her small body closer to his chest, noticing just how cold her body was. He carried her down the metal steps of the boat, and placed her on the bed, the only bed, in their small room.
He shoved his hands in the pockets of his Khaki slacks, stained with dirt on the knees and hem, and sighed, casting a reproachful look around the cold metal-walled room. Since there was only one bed for the both of them, and he was decent guy, most of the time, he pulled his jacket off and curled it on the floor. And only after he had removed his shirt (he didn't like sleeping with anything that has a collar) he stretched out on the floor, his back on the rough metal, and gazed at the wall. This was going to be a long trip, indeed…
-there we go, the next chapter has Chrono and Rosette in it a lot more, sorry! Oh, and please review and tell me what you think! Bye!!
