Authoress' Note: Well, I'm back, and though I'm not seeming to be getting a lot of reviews, I really just have stopped caring, I mean, this is mainly here for my enjoyment, so yes, the story continues to whoever is reading this, and a sincere thanks from me for taking your time to read this. Oh, and Rosette and Chrono FINALLY come in!!
Eamon silently began to bandage his partner, though he wished he could have healed her, but it had been too long and his energy was all but spent. Sweat dripped down his brow, silently hitting the steel deck scattered with the ashes of the recently exorcised humans under the control of Rael.
Her arms were badly injured, blood oozing slowly out of each cut, staining the wooden crate with smears of scarlet. After gripping firmly onto a handhold of the cloth that made her right sleeve, he quickly ripped the sleeve out, breaking the small seams, sending string and cloth into the air to be whisked away by the wind.
After tearing off her other sleeve, he then surveyed the damage. Her arms were a mess of deep cuts and burns, as they laced up her arms, blood trailing down her arms, washing them in deep burgundy.
Eamon swore slightly to himself as he used his handkerchief to wipe the blood off her small limbs, so he could better survey the damage that had been brought upon her. It wasn't good, these cuts, combined with the other cuts that were scattered all over her body, were enough to make a human bleed to death, and it make a wave of nausea wash over him, as he realized just how dire the situation had become.
"Christopher… Christopher… can you hear me? Please, hold on!!" he urged her quietly but he knew it was in vain. His own blood puddle around him on the floor and the salt air stung each and every bloody crevice, making him bite his lip to avoid from screaming. Darkness was already encroaching upon his vision, making it harder and harder for him to see as his view was now hindered by the thick dark edging.
But hope can, as just before his vision became dark, he could see, very close to the boat now, the docks, and what he guessed were two people waiting for them, probably this "Rosette and Chrono". He let a sigh of relief issue from his dry and cracked lip, as he felt his strength slowly return.
But there was a problem, as there always seems to be when a situation is most dire. With no one steering the ship, there was also no one to stop it from hitting the coast line. He groaned to himself silently, as he gently pulled Christopher closer to him, hoping she could survive the crash, knowing he would.
He quickly shut his eyes, squeezing them tight, and he braced himself for impact, his blood racing through his veins, making his head light from dizziness.
Then it happened, the crash. The sound of breaking wood, groaning metal and the screams of onlookers as they saw the huge ship crash recklessly into the docks, tossing wood and debris high into the air. The ship's deck shook violently from the stress and he felt millions of small splinters of wood fly past him, whistling slightly as they spun through the air. Some cut into his skin, making small droplets of blood bead out and roll down his face, and he did his best to shelter the dying girl next to him, pulling her limp body closer to him to avoid her getting any more injured.
He could feel her life leaving, like a fire that was dwindling, her skin already cool to the touch, as though she had already fallen into death, though she remaining breathing, her heart struggling to pump the meager amount of blood still left in her still body.
The then ship stopped. The sudden stop in momentum caused the deck's contents to lurch forward, sending large crates skidding across the steel and flying into the air.
Eamon did his best to dodge as many boxes, clutching Christopher to his chest, but there was one, one that was flying briskly thought the air, that he could not. He quickly spun around, facing to the box with his back, desperately grasping onto Christopher.
A scream of pain issued from his lips and the crate's thin wood burst as it met his back, sending him to his knees amid of shower of shredded paper and pottery. And there he lay, his back bruised and bleeding, weakly clutching the almost dead girl to him. But there was hope, he heard two sets of feet making their way to him, the sound echoing in his ears as his eyes became blurred from blood.
And there, right there he passed out…
Rosette stood there on the deck of the large ship, staring at the debris along with her partner Chrono. Their eyes surveyed the damage, as they remained oblivious to the young man who lay passed out, his arm resting across the dying girl that was once his partner.
They made their way across the deck, checking for survivors, both oddly quiet, as though this seemed far to surreal to be happening, when Rosette stumbled, falling quickly to her knee, scraping it upon the deck's surface.
"Ow… what the…?" she stopped talking as she realized what she tripped on. It was the arm of a young man, covered in a soft leather sleeve of a jacket, as blood dribbled out from the young man's arm. His right arm, the one she didn't trip on, was lying across the limp form of a young girl, her tan skin looking oddly pale, as no color graced her cheeks or lips, which were now turning slightly blue.
Her brown hair lay fanned out around her and the young man, a soft glisten from her eyes let the young nun see she was crying, the tear hanging off her deep black lashes. The sleeves of her dress were ripped off, and her burnt, bloody hands were clutched feebly to her chest.
"Chrono!!" she called out as she quickly knelt near the girl, placing two fingers upon her neck, as she sighed, feeling a jagged, uneven, weak pulse, but a pulse none the less. She quickly checked the young man, who pulse was still strong, though slightly irregular.
"What…" Chrono didn't finish what he was saying as he stared at the scene, and just stood there, slightly in shock.
It was sight to behold, and the two exorcists quickly began to try to help the two youths stay in the world of the living…
It was… damp… Yes… damp… Christopher slowly stirred, not on the ships deck, but on grass, still covered in dew from a chilly morning. The small beads of water clung to her warm body, ever so often sliding down her skin to reunite with the grass.
She opened her eyes, and was greeted with sight for sore eyes. Lush emerald colored grass stretched as far as she could see, rolling on gentle hills. The sky was a bright baby blue, the clouds ambling around, with little a care in the world.
Groaning, she sat up, propping herself on her elbows. She quickly surveyed her body, and was surprised to see that her arms were not cut, nor burned, nor in any way bloody. Her skin was slightly pink from the heat the issued from the golden orb of the sun that hung in the sky.
The torn dress that once adorned her body was no longer, her form dressed in a flowing white garb, made of many soft layers. Christopher slowly stood up, not entirely comprehending what was going on. One moment she was on a ship, and now she was here.
The air was moist and filled with the scents of fresh cut grass and the air just after a spring storm. Grass nuzzled her bare feet, and the dress fell softly around her ankles, and it seemed to float as it was teased and tossed by the gentle breeze that brought in the slight smell of the sea.
There was little sound, except the rustling of grass, and no other form of vegetation was to be found except a small grove filled with various lilies, her favorite flower.
She ran her hands down the dress, unsure as to why she was wearing this. It was elegant, and light as air, with long billowing sleeves that covered her fingers. Thin gold rope was threaded on the cuffs, and a similar rope was tied around her waist, the ends of the rope covered in small tassels, tipped in what appeared to be diamonds, that shone like dew.
Her hair, now soft and tied back with a thick gold clasp, danced around her body as the wind picked up, the eddies playing with the grass and making the lilies sway gently.
Curious now, she walked down to the grove of lilies, placing a timid hand on the large snow colored petals of a resplendent Casablanca lily; the sweet scent seemed to fill her senses, reminding her of honey.
"Lilies, your favorite," a soft voice said suddenly behind her, making her muscles tense. But this was a voice she knew, or at least thought she knew. For even though she had never heard it, they say a child always knows its mother's voice.
Excitement overflowing, Christopher spun around to face a woman, who must have been at least 20. Her eyes were a deep blue, and her hair the color of ripe wheat. Her skin was as pale as alabaster, albeit for the salmon pink that tinged her cheeks, and the deep crimson that made her lips. She was dressed in similar garb, but a small circlet of gold crowned her head.
"My dear sweet daughter," she murmured, placing a hand on the Christopher's face, resting on her thin cheeks. Christopher felt the salty sting as tears leapt into he eyes.
"Mum?" she asked, unsure for once in her life. Her heart wanted to weep as her eyes already did.
"Yes, yes, my child," was the reply, the voice soft and breathless.
"Oh how I've missed you!!" Christopher cried out, as she ran into the embrace of her mother's arms, for the first time in her young life.
"And I you, and I you…" her mother ran her hands along her daughter's hair, smoothing out the messy frizz.
"I thought you died," Christopher whispered, her head resting on her mother's thin shoulders, relishing the calming warmth that sent shivers down her skin.
"I did, Christopher, I did, and I still am… do you know what that means??"
Christopher stood there, slightly shocked, as she pulled away from her mother's embrace, staring around her with wide eyes.
"You mean to say, that this… is death?" Christopher asked, her voice growing weak as her knees threatened to give way.
"Yes, but it is not the place for you to dwell… just yet that is. You still have quite some time left in you, dear," her mother replied sweetly, placing her hands on her daughter's pointed ears, smiling at her.
"I… don't want to die…" she replied, scared, her heart pounding in her chest.
"Then don't… head back, my daughter."
"But… there are so many things I need to ask you…" she was cut off as her mother placed a warm finger on her lips, stilling them.
"Another time, eventually, you and I will have all the time in the world, but you cannot stay here for long, I am sending you back, but I do have words of comfort for you," her mother whispered, her eyes crinkling in a soft, sad smile.
"I knew you would have a hard life, and I'm sorry, and you will find your father, someday, and remember… I love you…" and as her mother reached forward, kissing her daughter softly on the forehead, Christopher felt herself become weak, and slowly, she slipped back into the waking world…
-There we go!! What do you think??