An old plot bunny which I unearthed. Slight AU. Long live Chrno and Rosette!
You've aged far too quickly. Look at this pale, pale skin, stretched and soft over bones too brittle for you. You've lost it before you could fully enjoy it. Your childhood has disappeared; those paths into the future have been cruelly erased. What will you look back on - what happiness is there? There will not be a "just like old times" for you. Nor will you experience that sweet feeling of nostalgia that grace us. Please, Merciful Lord, save this child. Spare her...Let Rosette live.
Only a Devilf hears, in the dark of night. Off violet hair and golden eyes, he stalks the moonlight on clawed limbs, his small leathered wings that can lift even a large buck, heavy with death. Time is something he can give.
Rosette wants to live. The sickness that steals her time and makes her a frail, bent girl woke suddenly, unexpectedly, and in less than a year she could hardly move without crying out in pain. Progeria, they called it. And she hates it. She hates seeing Joshua being put to work – he's sick too, don't you see? – she hates being stuck in bed with nothing to do except sky-watching, Joshua-watching, and maybe, if she struggles, a little potter about her small room. She hates it, loathes it! A hateful, hateful child.
Someone knows this, as he floats up to her window, the only one left open on this autumn night. He knows hate is hate, no matter what the context. He knows how to deal with these types.
Rosette woke as the moonlight is abruptly shorted by a large shadow standing in her open window. She's forgotten to shut it again – but maybe she knew something would happen, maybe she knew something had been watching her. How easy it is to forget, she thinks. The shadow stepped lightly into her room, the black wings that were small enough to disappear into his cloak flapping, soundless, weightless. She felt no fear, though she knew what it was. She lives in a Christian orphanage, after all.
Moonlight streams back into the room, highlighting a profile both tall and masculine. She couldn't see the colour of hair, but it was dark, strands of shadow falling to brush an angular face. Eyes that glowed gold in the darkest light stared into ones that shone with the fever of the sky. Rosette deemed it wise to stay silent, for now.
"Do you want power, child? Do you wish to live?" The Devil's voice was whisper-faint, but deep, like the rumbling of a distant avalanche.
Rosette felt cold, cold, deep within her bones. Shef knew where this Devil would lead the question. Her mouth shuddered open, words spilled out. "I...yes. If...If you let Joshua have life too."
"That is a deal I cannot fulfill."f
"What? But he's sick, like me! You gotta—"
The Devil shifts, his tattered cloak moving to reveal claws that gleamed in the moonlight. Rosette thought of the large kitchen blades that had severed many a finger. Her voice shrank back into her throat and with a small hff, she pulled the blankets up to her nose.
"Do not presume so much, human child. One so puny as you will never even aspire to command a Devil."
He inspects his claws, and almost childishly smirks at the uncomfortable shifting of the child.
"I am Chrono, the Keeper of Time. It is not...common, to find such strong feelings of hate in a child. You—"
Rosette deemed it unwise to interrupt. But she did so nonetheless. The Devil spoke like one of her old school teachers, who could spiel on and on and on about something and bore the class to sleep. It was risky to let it continue, 'specially since she was already in bed.
"How'd you know I was a kid?"
The Devil blinks. For a small moment, it looked at her as if in shock. But soon eyebrows began to knot, eyes narrowing.
"I mean, I hardly look a one now, do I? I've this dis-ese, see, which makes me look like one of em old cranky nuns, and everyone says I don't look like a kid no more. So, so..."
"You interrupted me."
"I wanted to ask something. How'd you know I was a kid?"
"Do not do so again."
"...fine." It really was like a teacher. Inwardly, she groaned. How angry would the Devil get if she fell asleep on it?
The Devil sighed, passing a clawed hand before its eyes. "Now...You are dying. There—"
A sudden movement that sounded like a derisive snort came from the bed, but when the Devil, teeth gritted in irritation, snapped a glare at her, only her innocent blue eyes looked back. He was wondering whether he had made a mistake in coming here. Could it be too late to leave with a mysterious flap of cloak? To pass it off as some dream? No, what was he thinking. A little child like this, chase him off? Who did she think she was?
"You are very close to dying." He growled. "However, there is something you can do about it. I can offer you some form of redemption from the ravages of time. It is your decision, but if I were you, with death biting my heels, I would accept."
"What about Joshua? I can't leave him sickly while I can be healthy!"
"I am Chrono, Keeper of Time. Your sickness is closely linked to time. That is why I can make a deal with you. Your Joshua does not have any need of a deal of mine, rather, he should keep away from them. Unless you would like him to die, something I can easily fulfil."
"No! Leave him alone, if you're just gonna kill him. Don't go near him if you're not gonna help him. Do ya hear? Don't, don't you touch him!" She tried to get up, but it's the middle of the night, and the air is cold, stifling. A normal person would find it only slightly chilly, but one who has bones that creak and crack would not. She bursts into a fit of coughing which she tries to stifle with the blanket. Footsteps sound on the stairs, and the matron rushes in, her hair rumpled with sleep.
"Rosette! What's wrong? ...Your windows are open! No wonder you're coughing!"
Rosette tries to respond, to say she is fine, but the coughs force themselves past her words. She looks up out of teary eyes, but the Devil has gone.
"Rosette? How're you feeling? Sister Dahlia says you were coughing a lot last night."
Joshua sits down beside her bed, wiping his forehead clear of sweat and blonde hair with a small towel. Rosette looked him over, her mouth twisted in a frown. His cheeks were stained red, his normally sky blue eyes – lighter than hers – were lighter still, faint and slightly unfocused. They were working in the fields today, taking advantage of the warm sun. But it would be almost unbearably hot for someone like Joshua, who had a weak heart, a weak constitution.
They would make someone who is clearly not cut out for hard work do this.
Rosette noticed his worry and tried to grin. "I'm as fine as ever, you doofus. A few coughs aren't gonna drop me! More importantly, how are you doing? They making you work too hard? If they are, tell me, so I can—"
Joshua shakes his head. "Rosette, please stop straining yourself. I'm fine, I can work. It'll keep them from throwing us out, at any rate."
He stands, and smiles a little sadly down at her. Rosette will never get used to having to look up at her younger brother. He used to be so small. She remembers holding his tiny hands in hers, hugging his petite form tightly as they arrived at the orphanage.
"I'm glad you seem alright. I'll bring up some lunch later, so don't start any fights till then, ok?" He leaves, closing the door softly behind him.
The air is almost immediately deadened. She stares out the window, wishing the outside would blow into her room. The clunking of buckets attracts her attention and she looks down. It's Kevin and his gang, each holding a pail of potatoes. Kevin sees her and whispers to his friends. They erupt into raucous laughter as he tinkles his fingers at her.
"Hey, bedbug! What happened last night? You wet yer bed?"
The group snickers, and Kevin sneers at her. Rosette growls; that face was just begging for a punch. And she would happily deliver free of charge, in fact, she'd insist. Violently. If only she didn't have this frail body, her voice quiet, wavering between whisper and noise.
They turn to leave with sneers at her silence, their backs straight and tall. Their voices are loud, their movements free. One swings the pail of potatoes as if it were a mere basket of flowers. They are healthy. Somehow, this makes Rosette angrier still.
It is when the moon graces the topmost leaves of the forest beyond the orphanage that Rosette hears the news.
"What do you mean Joshua is GONE?!" Rosette did her best to yell. "Gone where? Why was I not told?!"
"Rosette, please, calm down, you'll hurt yourself!"
"I'm not the one who's gonna be hurting..." she rasped darkly. A few younger children whimpered, tales of old witches who stole the skins of maidens running through their heads. The older children would've laughed, if Rosette had not been so serious.
"Where is my brother?"
"He's safe. He collapsed in the fields during the day—"
"See, I told you this would happen!" Rosette snapped, her nails bruising her palms even through the blanket.
"I'm sorry, Rosette. But we need all the help we can get. He's been sent...to a safe place. You don't need to worry about him."
Don't worry, don't be scared. As if she wouldn't be. Joshua was the only family she had left. They had been together since the day he was born. Rosette didn't like the mushiness of it, but she truly cared about him. Worry was only a small drop of what she felt.
"Define 'safe'. I thought this would be a safe place, but now my brother is gone and I only hear about it now. After how many hours, and you won't even tell me where he is!" She was trying, she really was. But the tears nipped at the side of her eyes and hysteria just wouldn't give up.
"Dear..." the matron began softly. Rosette slipped away from petting hands. She should've controlled her emotions better – this was just plain humiliating, even without the many pairs of staring eyes.
"You're only young, Rosette. Even though you have this body, you're still considered a child. When you're older, you'll understand. He's not gone forever, you must realize."
Rosette, with her head under blankets, said nothing. After some time, the matron exhaled, a little bit of regret staining the air. She walked out, ushering the whispering children with her.
Rosette's hands unclenched slowly, and she winced as the tension left a nip of pain as it eased out of her bones.
He's not gone forever. But how long is forever for me?
"Child, wake."
Rosette's eyes snapped open. She had been half-expecting the Devil to come again. In fact, she had hoped he would come. The Devil stood, as he had last night, at the foot of her bed, the moon plunging half his face into shadow. One golden eye gazed silently at her.
"Have you made your decision?"
His voice was softer. It had lost the deep-seated rumble of stones, it seemed almost normal, now. There was even a sense of fatigue in his stance. Rosette passed it off. Maybe he just wasn't getting enough sleep.
"I have." She spoke with more confidence than she felt. What if she was making the wrong decision? But this wasn't just about her anymore. She needed to find Joshua. "L-let's hear it then."
The Devil moved to her side, smoothly, like he had simply floated. Dancing steps. Cat steps. She considered him. Panther steps.
"As you wish, child." He smiled, revealing something of a sharp fang. A little chill settled at the base of Rosette's spine. "Let us be away from here, then, before the night gets any lighter."
Rosette froze, shock spreading into her features. "Wai--"
Clawed hands appeared, tearing into her blanket. In one swift movement, her blanket had been turned into a sling, and they were flying.
Rosette was floating. She was a child again, robust and shining at the age of six. Barefoot, the clouds were stepping stones for her skip in the sky. She had never tasted air like this. It burned deep in her lungs, a painless, invigorating fire. For the first time in yearsmonthsdays she felt the cold and only laughed.
"Rosette!"
She looked up and grinned. Joshua! Wait till he hears her news! He's always been a bit of an occult freak – he'll love this.
"Hey Joshua! Listen, the other night, this Dev—"
Of violet hair and golden eyes. Sickle'd claws and sharpened fangs. You've made a deal with the Devil, oh foolish child. You don't belong in the sky anymore.
And she fell and aged and her voice couldn't yell and laugh like it had. Her skin dried and grew and grew till it didn't fit on her body anymore and - who are you again? – there were the children from the orphanage. They stared and giggled and didn't believe. She could almost cry. But bitter old women don't cry.
She reached out with those hands of hers – quick, the witch is coming! – and she thought maybe if she stretched she could touch the stars, she could make a wish, she could leave behind this boring cold place, leave and walk amoungst the skies with Joshua. Something warm enveloped her, something cold and smooth trailed little whispers across her palm before disappearing.
Rosette opened her eyes, and she was fifteen again.
Phew! I'll probably put another chapter out next week, but I have no idea where I'm going with this (true of all my stories, actually...) so won't be updating regularly. Not that I ever do. ...Oh well, hope you enjoyed it anyway and review please! Constructive crit much appreciated.