Authoresses note: Thank you to all who reviewed, I'm far too lazy to mention your names, but thanks, and here we go, I hope you enjoy!
Christopher awoke slowly in her bed long before the sun began its slow journey across the skies. The room was filled with an icy chill and she pulled the rough wool blanket closer around her body trying to fight the frosty air. There was little noise in the small room, besides the soft snoring of Eamon and the sound of the water lapping against the steel hull. She propped herself up on her elbows and looked around the dim room.
There was no light to be found, except for the small oil lamp left dimly burning next to the door. She quietly pulled herself out of bed and lit the three other small lamps that hung down from the ceiling. It entire was room was soon flooded in a soft golden light, each lamp straining to exude as much heat as it could.
She smoothed the cloth on her dress out as she re-laced her boots, pulling the laces tight, wincing as they bit deep into her skin. She stretched her arms out, careful not to wake the young man sleeping on the floor.
Eamon was stretched languidly on the floor, one hand on his bare chest, as it rose up and down slowly as he breathed in and out. His messy red hair was plastered on his head from what she guessed was sweat. His head rested on his leather jacked, and the rest of him was sprawled on the floor, his khaki covered legs twitching in sleep. He was shivering just slightly from the cold emanating from the floor.
She sighed deeply, pulling the wool blanket off of the small bed and placing it gently on the young man, covering his shivering form. A slight smile graced his lips and she muttered "sleep tight" to him as she made her way quietly out of the room.
She slowly climbed up the ladder like stairs to the deck. It was slightly coated in frost and the sun was just beginning to rise; small spikes of red slicing across the sky, while the moon slowly set on the horizon.
She made her way across the frozen ship's deck to the bow. The boat still slowly plowed through the water, cutting into the deep blue waters, sending a white spray into the air. She placed herself delicately near the bow, facing the gently rising sun, her eyes closed, and her face held in rapture.
Her right hand grasped an elegant rosary, the small cross dangling down from her fist. The ruby red beads glinted in the sunlight like drops of blood. Her face was flushed from the cold, a deep rosy color that covered the bridge of her nose and her cheeks. She opened her garnet colored lips and sang.
"Nostrum Abbas , quisnam pulvis in Olympus , sanctio exsisto suus nomen. In regnum adveho , vicis ero perfectus , in terra ut is est in Olympus. Beatus nos is dies , nostrum cotidie bred , quod indulgeo nos nostrum tresspasses ut nos indulgeo qui tresspass obviam nos. Quod plumbum nos non unto tentatio , tamen vindico nos ex malum. Amen," her voice quavered, each note striking clear and true in the cold air, cutting through the air like a knife. (btw, she's singing in Latin)
"Amen," a male voice called out behind her. She spun around to see Eamon, standing there, with no shirt on, just his jacket, the blanket draped over one arm. The sun was now hovering just above the horizon, silhouetting Christopher in a scarlet light. For a moment, Eamon found himself breathless from Christopher. At that moment, she seemed like some spiritual being sent from heaven above. The wind whipped around her, sending her hair swirling around her body, and Eamon felt the warmth of a blush rush to his cheeks.
"Uh, I woke up and saw the bed empty. I guessed you were up here, and thought you might be cold. I didn't know you could sing," he just did his best to smile at her, doing his best to ignore the blush that was almost glowing off his cheeks.
"I can't really sing, it's just I used to sing with the choir every morning at sunrise, it seemed like it'd be a shame to miss it," she replied, walking over to him, ignoring the fact that her feet slipped on the frosty deck.
"Here," he held out the blanket and she just smiled at him, making to walk past him, but he placed a hand gently on her shoulder, stalling her just long enough to quickly wrap the blanket around her body. It was still warm from his body and she stopped shivering almost instantly, pulling the blanket closer around her body.
"Thanks, thought I didn't really need it," she replied, looking at him sideways over her shoulder.
"You know, that accent of yours is really cute," he said suddenly, placing a hand under her chin. She just smiled coyly back at him.
"You know, that is accent of yours is really cute," she replied and she walked away, dropping the blanket onto the ground and making her way back down to their cabin.
Eamon sighed, walking over to pick the blanket off the ground, groaned as he bent over, his muscles still sore from sleeping on the hard floor. He dusted the frost off the blankets rough texture and draped it off his elbow, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket. He shrugged his shoulders off handishly and just sighed.
"Women, what can you do?" he said to himself and he made his way back to the cabin, his body chilled from the cold.
The moment Christopher stepped into the cabin; she closed the door behind her and locked it, not wanting Eamon to walk in while she was changing. Her dress was horribly wrinkled from her sleep and she stared at herself in the tall mirror, and wrinkled her nose at what she saw.
Her hair was slightly frizzy and when the light hit it, it seemed to make a halo of light around her head. Groaning, she bent down and unlaced her boots, kicking them into a corner, and as they hit the wall, a loud clang filled the room. She winced, covering her ears from the overwhelming noise. She silently cursed her stupidity and she unlaced the bodice of her dress, letting the rough silk cloth fall off her torso, flopping softly on the ground at her feet. The small leather laces were curled on the floor like diminutive snakes.
She undid the laces on her skirt and pulled off the outer layer and the numerous white petticoats, letting them fall around her ankles.
"Hahaha, so, the lady kicked you out of the room?" a sailor laughed at Eamon as he sat outside of the room, opposite of the door of their cabin. He just glared at the man as he walked away.
"Shuddup!" he yelled at the man's back. He could hear his laughter echoing through the metal hallways. He pulled his hat down over his eyes, and quickly fell asleep.
By the time Christopher was done with her shower, the room was thoroughly drenched in steam, her skin rubbed red. She had pulled on an undershirt and the knee length pants by the time she heard someone outside the door yell 'shut up'. Laughing silently to herself, she pulled on a fresh dress, this time it was a blood red color of cloth, with a slim bodice. She shoved her hair over her shoulder and shoved her boots casually on her feet, not bothering to lace them.
She quickly pulled the door open, wincing as it cried out for oil. It woke Eamon, who was gently sleeping across from her. He started at the noise, his body jerking.
"Good morning, sleepy head," she said cheerfully, brushing off her skirt.
"Wha...?" he muttered, looking up at her with hazy eyes.
"I said good morning," she nodded her head to him.
"What were you doing in there that took you so long?" He asked, pointed at the room as the steam billowed out to him, smelling of soap and damp. "Never mind, you were showering…" he trailed off, a blush rising gently onto his cheeks.
"Well, are you going to sit there, or are you going to go and take a shower yourself?" she asked, placing a hand on her hip.
"Nah, besides, I'm hungry," he hoisted himself off the floor and began to walk to the small mess room, looking over his shoulder at his new partner. "What, don't you eat?"
"Of course I eat, what do you think I am?" she asked, giving him a stony glare.
He sullenly stared at the floor as he followed the young woman to the mess room. The room was wide and thin, the same gray paint covered it's walls as did the rest of the walls of the ship's interior. Tubes carrying who knows what stuck out on the walls and snaked around the ceilings. The light came from a mixture of electrical lamps and the small gas kind that sat in their rooms.
Sailors lay languidly on the metal benches provided, eating what smelled like porridge out of cheap ceramic bowls. Christopher slowly made her way to the large window where the grizzled cook was bent over a large metal pot full of porridge. He grinned at her with a mouth full of missing teeth and his untidy salt and pepper hair stuck out from under a white bandanna.
"What'll ya have?" he asked her, his rancid breath washing over her. She did her best not to look offended, but she couldn't help but wrinkle her nose. His voice was deep and rough, and sounded like his speech was gravel instead of words.
"Well, it seems that all you have is porridge, so, porridge it will be," she looked disdainfully as a heavily chipped bowl that was placed on her small wooden tray. She groaned, and made her way to one of the tables, soon followed by Eamon. He jabbed a thumb at the cook, who was laughing at something, but they did not know what.
"Nice guy, could use a bath," Eamon said to her, grinning at her casually. She just rolled her eyes.
She just looked at him, then back at the food, and shrugged at him.
"Is it safe to eat?" she asked, sniffing a spoonful of the oat-y mush.
"I don't really know…" he trailed off, then took a small bite of porridge off the tip of the spoon. Then he promptly fell over, off the chair, looking quite dead.
"EAMON!" she could help but cry out as she vaulted across the table to reach the young man as he lay sprawled out on the floor. "Eamon, can you hear me?" she asked as she shook him roughly by the shoulders. He promptly opened his eyes and grinned at her.
"You know what, besides the slight milky aftertaste… not bad," he grinned at her.
"Oooooh, you rotten!!" she cried out, cuffing him on the head.
"Ow," he muttered, rubbing his head.
"So, boys, remember what I said, tonight, we'll take care of those…" an ominous voice whispered off from a dark corner. A large group of sailors looked over their shoulders and grinned at the young exorcists.
"Tonight…" they all muttered and nodded their heads in unison….
-Sorry for the moment of cliché there!! So, pleeeease tell me what you think! Have a great time, review, and yeah. Next chappy has fighting in it, and in the fourth chappy, they meet Rosette and Chrono! Bye!! Oh, and the prayer she says in latin is a real prayer in real latin!!!! Just wanted you to know!