(Somewhere in England, 16 years ago…)
Outside a large wood door a group of nuns and monks were clustered around a priest, who had an infant swaddled in rough bed clothes, the face covered by a long flap of rough cotton. The priest had his eyes turned downward to the small infant, his brown eyes looking at it tenderly.
"What are we going to do with it?" one nun asked, her voice hushed. Her eyes darted nervously to the baby, a look of terror in her sapphire eyes.
"Send it from this mortal coil, send it back to hell from where it came!" another nun replied, her voice full of venom and hatred for the infant child. But the priest quickly shook his head, giving the nuns an annoyed glance, and replied softly.
"This child has a human mother, who is lying spent and dead in that room," he pointed at the door that rested behind him, "Perhaps we can lift some of the sins off the child's soul, and give this infant a chance to find the Lord, our God," he replied, rocking the child in his arms. He nodded off to nuns and monks, and then softly made his way away from the room, where the child's mother lay dead.
One nun quietly opened the door, casting a glance at the women. The woman's body was pale, her hands resting on her chest, and the woman's auburn hair was plastered to her face, stuck from the sweat of labor. Slowly, the nun made her way to the side of the bed, and lifted one sheet quietly, placing it over the woman's face. As she made her way out, the nun paused at the door, crossed herself quickly and cast a sad glance at the woman.
"Poor thing, what did you do to curse your child like that?" she muttered softly, shaking her head as she closed the door quietly behind her…
(Back to the regular story line)
Christopher's eyes slowly flickered open, and she sat up, sore, her head pounding still from the fight, though what happened was nothing more then a blur of fire and darkness. What had happened? Pacing nervously near her was the young girl, Azmaria, her small pink flats tapping against the compact dirt of the garden.
Slowly, Christopher sat up, holding onto her head, her horns were gone, nothing but slight scars on the sides of her head, but she'd learned to ignore them after all those years. Her hair was back to it's original silky appearance and as she stood, the long strands cascaded down her small shoulders.
"You're awake!" the girl cried out, rushing over to her, worry etched on her youthful face.
"Hm… Oh… yes, I'm awake," she replied rather disconnectedly, looking around the mess and ruins. Dust and ash was scattered all over the ground, and coated almost everyone in greasy gray grains. She just sighed deeply, shaking her head to clear her thoughts, and tried with all her might to remember what happened, and then there was a pang in her chest.
It was a quick, burning sensation that seemed to well out of her heart, and she clutched her thin fingers to her heart, her breathing suddenly coming in quick gasps. Suddenly, with the sensation of falling into a cold lake, she remember. Eamon was dead… When she realized, the pain returned to her chest, only to quickly subside, leaving a cooling sensation as she leaning back, breathing somewhat heavily in exhaustion.
"Where is he?" she murmured, and quickly skipped over various unconscious priests and nuns, her bare feet skipping gracefully over the bloody dirt, as she searched for her partner.
He lay sprawled on the hard floor and just above his heart, his shirt was torn, blood staining the once white fabric, and pooling all around him. Far too much of the crimson blood was pooled, no human could survive it. Quietly, Christopher stepped forward, her small feet sending ripples though the large puddles of blood. Relief washed over her, though, as she suddenly saw that there was no wound on Eamon's body, under the large tear in his shirt, was nothing more then a fresh scar, the shiny, pale skin standing out in the harsh sun of the afternoon.
In all truth, the young man looked the same, but less worn… and oddly, in a way Christopher could not describe, different. He seemed to almost glow in the dim light and for once he seemed peaceful, no look of worry or tension marred his face. In one swift moment, she knelt next to him, resting his hands on his face, wishing and hoping he would wake. In those moments of tension, she forgot where she was, she forgot that she was kneeling in a pool of blood, that they had just fought Rael, that many people had just barely escaped death. All that mattered was Eamon and him waking up.
"Eamon…Eamon… please…. Just wake up… don't die too…" she whispered, shaking him gently by the shoulders while her own twitched as she held back the salty tears that stung her eyes like a thousand small needles.
"Mphf… please… stop shaking me…"
Christopher nearly dropped the young man back onto the ground when me spoke, but still embraced him, tears already rolling down her cheeks.
"That's sweet," Rosette murmured as she finished tying off the bandages she had wrapped around her upper right arm, grimacing from the quick jolts of pain that shot up her slender limbs.
"Yeah…" her partner Chrono replied softly, looking at the two. Christopher was strongly embracing the young man, her face nuzzled up to his neck, tears already pooling in the hollow of his neck.
"Shh… it's allright, just please stop crying…" Eamon whispered gently to the girl, who still fiercely clung to him, her fingers clutching deep into his shirt, letting the thick cotton gather under her fingers. Her hair fell across his face, and the smells of sandalwood, roses, and soap seemed to dance around him. He wished for a moment that he could just remain in her arms, breathing in her soft scent.
"I will… just as soon as I can…" she sobbed into his ear. Eamon sighed, placing his hands on her arms gently, sighing, enjoying the few moments of rest that he could. After this fight, nothing would be the same for either of them.
Just after the fight with Rael… where he died, he heard a voice, someone singing, a pure voice, and it seemed to call him back to the shores of life, but that alone wasn't it. Something happened that wasn't supposed to happen. The seal broke, and he could feel it, he had gained back his powers.
Slowly, Christopher stood, wiping the tears off her face with the back of one hand, letting the tears slowly drip down her hands instead. Eamon slowly took in his partner, standing there in the remnants of her dress, sniffling slightly, her nose rosy from crying.
"You… You… YOU JERK!" she stammered, finally shouting out the last part, anger welling up out of her, her right hand quickly flying forward, striking Eamon across his face.
"Don't you ever do that again!" she cried out, rushing back to him and into his arms, and soon she was crying. Eamon was standing there, slightly confused, his face red from the slap, but he just smiled gratefully, casting his eyes down at the girl, and it was the first time anybody noticed an odd change. His eyes were now a bright sapphire blue, and caught the light beautifully, as though they really were jewels.
And slowly, the sun emerged from behind it's cloud, filling the scene. Christopher was clutching Eamon to her, her head resting on his strong shoulder. Eamon merely resting his head upon hers, smiling down at her tenderly, his eyes closed gently, and briefly, they were at peace…
Sorry this chapter is just a bit short, but there will be longer one's coming up, it just seemed the perfect spot to end the chapter. Don't worry, Christopher and Eamon will be commin' back! Boo-yah!