Disclaimer: I own Chrno, yes I do! I'm a liar, how 'bout you!
Author's Note: I've had a few questions, so here are the answers:
The metaphor in chapter three- Chrono and the watch. He was asking why does she care for the watch; why does she love it? He meant: Why do you care for me? Why do you love me?
I've also had mentions of 'please make these longer'. And. . . Um. . . I would, but that would defeat the purpose. These are ficlets- they're supposed to be short like this. (sweat drop)
Well, that's all. Oh- but a warning for this chapter: MILD spoilers for volume four. Nothing horrific or huge, just a tiny snippet of a scene and dialogue. (There's also a mild cliffhanger as to what actually ends up taking place in the story.) Though I add in Rosette's thoughts, I tried to stay as true to the manga as possible. Yea! XD
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Ticks of the Clock
Starry, Starry Night
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He stood so carefully, so gracefully, so carelessly- balancing with a supernatural grace on the cold metal rail of the fence. His eyes closed lightly and his hands in his pockets, he turned his pale face towards the heavens; the stars' soft glow accenting the shadows of the night. A rustling wind brushed through, making his long hair flutter. Violet locks that shone like moonbeams, maroon jacket swaying with his braid, rosy lips still tenderly forming words she was meant to hear; to appreciate; to cherish. The epitome of all that ever was and ever would be Chrono.
But change was upon them. Change was taking over her, over him, over everything.
Change was unavoidable.
She didn't want things to change. She knew they already had.
He stood tall, like a statue; the star glow creating the faintest of shadows on the grassy ground before the cliff. She stood in that wavering silhouette, watching him blindly as he blindly watched the sky. The stars twinkled. Her heart thudded.
And he smiled. He tilted his head foreword and grinned directly at her, ruby colored pools full of swirling emotion. She swallowed, holding a hand to her heart. Guilt overwhelmed her at the loving expression; her thoughts tumbling over one another so quickly that she barely had time to process them.
'Smilesmilehissmile,smileforme,neversmiledbefore;wantedtopushmeawayatfirst,whydoeshesmilenow?Iknownothing,nothingnothingnothingabouthimorhispastI'msoselfishselfishselfishIknownothing.WhoareyouChronoandwhatdidyoudo?Whathappenedtomakeyouwhoyouare,andwhydon'tyouhatemefornotknowing?Whywhywhywhychangeshouldn'tcomebutdoesIdon'tknowchangesinourlifeandtomeandtoyouasthestarsshineshineshine,andkeepshininginthenightsky. . .'
"Rosette. . ."
Again, he was speaking to her- and again, the words his gentle voice delivered almost washed over her without her noticing; the gentlest wave on the beach. She started, blinking her wide blue orbs up at her partner.
He hopped off the railing, ever agile, ever poised. And in that instant, she was no longer the 12-year old she'd fallen back into being- just as Chrono was no longer the wise storyteller, the mythic answer-giver, the all powerful god she'd always thought he was. He didn't tower over her, he didn't gaze wistfully into the wind, he didn't smile at her like a child.
Reality broke the mirror of illusion.
He took three steps foreword and gave one turn back; staring at the disorientated girl over his shoulder. "I'll
have to tell you a story some day. . ."
She froze. What was that over his shoulder. . . ?
The thread connecting her changed heart to that of her younger self gave a tug.
Chrono continued, eyes downcast as he avoided her gaze. ". . . About something that happened a long time ago."
And somehow she knew she would not enjoy that story when it came time to hear it.