-Hello again, I'm glad to get the reviews you guys are giving, there aren't many, but their all really nice! And yeah… Quick bit of trivia, I'm enjoying writing this because I have writers block on my novel… still stuck on it…. Means there'll be more chappies to come!
Eamon sat outside of the room Christopher was resting in, staring at his shoes, his bangs being kept out of his eyes by the rolls of white gauze that covered his messy cap of red hair. He stared at his hands, flexing and un-flexing his powerful fingers, tears beginning to well up in his eyes. It seemed unreal, that Christopher lay in the room behind him, fighting for her life.
He had no clue what happened after the ship crashed, but what he did know was that he woke up he was here, in what he guessed might be classified as a monastery, but it was more the headquarters for the "exorcists of the Magdalene order". Apparently, instead of him and Christopher finding Rosette and Chrono, they found them, collapsed on the deck of the ship.
He sighed deeply, as he thought about just what exactly had happened, and slowly, his fingers curled into fists as he chewed thoughtfully on his lower lip. It was slowly eating away at him, the knowledge of what to do, but he was too ashamed to do it. Deep down, he knew it wasn't his fault, but it still ate away at him, gnawing at his soul.
He stood up quickly, made his way to the door to Christopher's room, and then he ceased movement, his hand hovering over the metal knob. Then, he quickly turned around, storming over to the large window that was across from the door. Gently, he rested his forehead on the cool pane of glass, closing his eyes and letting himself calm down. His warm breath sent fog blooming across the chilly surface as he sighed deeply.
Normally, Eamon was rather carefree, but it seemed that at this moment, every care he had just nonchalantly tossed over his shoulder suddenly came crashing down on his head, making him feel older than ever. What had happened before he passed out seemed unreal, as if Rael had never come, never spoken his true name, and never injured the young girl still resting in the room behind him.
Israfel, it had been a while since he had been called that, too long. And that name was the reason why he was so torn up. If he still had his wings, he could have healed her with out even thinking, but this was what he had been reduced to, mourning over a girl who hadn't even died yet, unable to help her no matter how hard he might try
"I bet you're laughing over this right now, Rael," He muttered, turning his back to the window, resting gently against the clear surface, careful not to break it.
Slowly, ever so slowly, he slid down the surface, and he crumpled against the floor like a marionette with its strings cut. He wished he could cry, but alas, no tears would come, he could feel them bite at his eyes, but he knew none would fall.
"Uh… Eamon?" a timid voice asked him, and he looked up slowly, surprised to see a young girl standing awkwardly in front of him, her hands clasped behind her back. She had long white hair and red-ish hued eyes, and was smiling at him sadly. Her long hair was pulled away from her face by a soft pink bow that matched her short dress, and she rocked back and forth on her small feet.
"Uh… yeah, that's my name… for the time being… Who are you?" he asked as he slowly stood up, his head still hanging from shame.
"My name is Azmaria," she replied shyly, smiling at him sweetly.
"Nice to meet you," he wiped his hands off on his pants and offered it to the girl, and she took it timorously, her small hand dwarfed in his. It was odd, her hand was as pale as alabaster, seeming ever paler in his tan hand.
"Uh, yes, pleasure to meet you too," she replied in her soft voice. He gently shook her hand, and let go, careful of what seemed like such a delicate hand.
"Yeah…" he trailed off, his stunning emerald eyes staring longingly at the door that separated him from Christopher. The girl looked over her shoulder, to see what he was looking at, and noticed the door, a look of understanding darting across her face.
"Oh, that's right, Rosette said they found the girl with you, do you want to see her? I mean, it should be safe for you to go on…" she trailed off when she saw the look on Eamon's face, a look of utter sorrow that seemed to flow from his body, making him seemed older then when she had first seen him.
"No, I would feel ashamed to see her…knowing I could have helped…" his voice trailed off into oblivion, the last few words hoarse as he struggled to speak through the lump that had formed in his throat.
"Oh… alright…" and with that, the angelic little girl walked away, silently, her hands swinging slightly at her sides. Another pang of guilt wracked through him as he realized he just dumped some of his sorrow on the girl's thin shoulders.
Casually, he brushed off his jacket, which was badly damaged from blood, a crying shame as it was his favorite jacket. It might be saved…might.
He was unsure on how much time he spent staring at the door to Christopher's room, but finally he couldn't stand it anymore. He roughly grabbed his hair, tousling it, and then briskly walked to the door, turning the cool metal knob, and stepped into the room.
The room was plain, it's wall a stark white, small pictures of saints hung on the walls, and there was a metal bed, the kind you find at an infirmary, placed next the window on the far side of the wall. It lay open, a fresh breeze teasing across the girl sleeping under the covers. Yes, Christopher lay there, her long hair covering her pillow in slight curls, her eyes closed peacefully. Bandages covered her arms, which lay on top of the sheets and the plain blue quilt that covered the mattress.
Her forehead was bandaged also, pushing her bangs out of her closed eyes, but what scared him was the lack of color in her face. Her cheeks held no blush, and somehow her tanned skin seemed as pale as the girl's, Azmaria. Her lips were tinged blue, and when he placed a hand on her cheek, he was met with cold flesh. He stared at the face of the young girl, and for the first time noticed the scar that ran across her right eyebrow, a sharp line of white on tanned skin and dark brow. One finger lingered gently lingered on the spot, as he wondered just how she got it, and he gently held on to her hands, clasping them in his.
"What's her name?" he heard a male voice ask from behind him. It was a youth, with odd purple hair, long, and tied it in a braid that ended in a cheerful yellow bow. He had rust colored shorts on that fell to his knees, and a jacked covered a white shirt. The young boy was dressed oddly to Eamon, what with a thick bandana over his forehead, and such, but he made no comment. He wasn't one to criticize someone's fashion sense.
"Christopher… Christopher Michael Gabriel," he replied as he chuckled at the name. It was still an odd name and he couldn't help from a slight laugh.
"Aren't those boy names?" another voice asked, this time female. It was a blonde nun, with bright blue eyes, dressed in the uniform for the militia for the exorcists of the Magdalene order and she had just stepped into the room.
"Yes, they are, but those are her names. She was born in a monastery, and has no family," he replied, one hand still tenderly clutching the girl's limp hand.
"Ah…" the nun trailed off. Eamon guessed that she knew a bit about having no family.
"Excuse me for being rude, but you are Rosette and Chrono, correct?" he asked as he took off his jacket, hanging in on the metal coat rack that sat gloomily in one corner of the room.
"Yeah," Rosette replied as she walked over to the girl.
"What happened?" Chrono asked, sitting in one of the chairs that was at the foot of the bed, his golden eyes flicking up and down the girl small form. From the angle the Eamon was now standing, he could clearly see the pointed ears that adorned the sides of Chrono's head, and he knew instantly, but bit his lip, keeping quiet on that, but speaking up to answer the question presented.
"We were attacked by a man named Rael. He sent the boat's occupants after us, they were all dead, captured in their bodies, prisoners of his. Christopher was fighting against them… and… well…" he trailed off, his eyes staring sadly at the girl's hands.
"What happened to her hands?" Rosette asked, her eyes following Eamon's, and seeing the fresh blood stains that left scarlet streaks on the snow white cloth wrapped around her arms.
"The Astral lines… She's a rather gifted conjurer. You see, she uses the Astral lines to summon the elements, quite talented if I may add," he replied, nodding his head to her.
"That's a nice piece of trivia, but it doesn't answer my question!" Rosette replied, annoyed. Chrono just looked at her, smiling apologetically at Eamon.
"It's like dealing with invisible metal wire. Use to much of it and it'll bite into your skin," he replied, holding up his palms as though it helped. Chrono nodded his head, while Rosette glared slightly at Eamon, for some unknown reason, she just didn't like him.
Eamon looked out the window at the slowly setting sun, as it painted the sky with bright oranges, red, and purples. He sighed deeply, his shoulder sagging in exhaustion.
"How long was I asleep?" he turned his head to look at Rosette, and as the sun hit the young man's eyes, she could have sworn they were baby blue. (hint hint nudge nudge)
"Not very long…" she yawned, stretching her arms above her before covering her mouth. "I'm heading to bed…" and with that she walked out the room, followed soon by Chrono, who silently closed the door.
After a few minutes crept past, he stood up, and walked out the room, casting a sad glance at the sleeping Christopher, and made his way to where Sister Kate was staying.
He knocked softly on the door, and after getting permission, walked quickly walked into the room, closing the door almost immediately behind him. He looked at the middle aged nun who was sitting at a wood desk, her hair captured under her habit.
"Hello, Sister Kate," he smiled genially at the nun, trying to stave away any fear of the nun. He prayed that the rumors he had heard about her temper were wrong.
"Good evening, Eamon," she replied, her voice dangerously quiet. In that moment, Eamon had already begun to head for the door, with quiet steps, his hands searching for the door's knob. To his misery, he didn't reach it in time, as he moment his fingers reached the metal knob, his ears were met with an unearthly long lecture.
"EAMON! DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH MONEY IT'LL COST TO REPAIR THAT DOCK!?!?" she screamed, tossing the paperwork down on the desk with a large smacking sound. Eamon winced visisbly, squeezing his eyes shut. This was not the way he wanted to arrive back in America.
"A great deal of money, yes, but I promise you, I will pay for it," he replied, keeping his voice at the same soothing tone horse trainers used.
"Really? Do you have that much money?" she asked him, cocking an eyebrow at him in a mocking manner.
"Yes… and with that… I'll be leaving!!" he quickly turned the knob, and slipped out of the door, slamming it behind him and with that, he ran. His feet pounded against the floor as he did his best to run away from the enraged nun, taking refuge in Christopher's room, slamming the door and quickly pressing his back against the cool wood of the door, his heart beating painfully against his chest, and we was sure that anyone could hear it.
And as he looked at the still resting form of Christopher, he was surprised to find her waking, her eyes slowly beginning to open, and finally, she was awake…
-There we go, yippee, please review, and sorry this chappy was not as good as the others. Oh, and quick bit of info, if you want to know why Israfel sounds so familiar, check out Chrono Crusade volume two, and see the song that Rosette was singing.