Disclaimer: I WISH I owned Chrono Crusade. . . Specifically Chrono. . . ::drools and huggles Chrono plushie:: Eeeee! XD XD XD He's so CUTE!
Author's Note: Hey hey! So, lemme tell ya about my Thanksgiving. One of best friends in the entire world came to visit me, I got to party 'til dawn for 4 days straight, I was allowed to skip school on Monday to have a Yu-Gi-Oh party with said bestest friend, and- - -
So yeah, this is my first Chrono fic (after reading mangas 1 and 2), so I hope it's okay. ::sweat drop:: Two things, though: One, I spell the names a little differently than some of you do, evidently- I've seen the spelling Chrno around quite a bit. But in the manga it's written Chrono, so. . . Uh, yeah. That's what I'm going to write it as. ::nervous laugh::
I fell head over heals in love with Chrono Crusade. XD XD XD XD XD
Second, am I missing something? I went searching for Chrono fics yesterday, and evidently everyone but me has read the whole series! How long is the whole series? Is it over in Japan? I thought it just came out- where are y'all getting your information/mangas? T.T I feel like I'm missing something! (Actually, I probably am. . .)
XD Well, please enjoy! (And I should be going back to my Inu-Yasha fics soon- after I get some of these Chrono fic ideas out of my head. (-; )
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Tangles
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She's late.
Late, late, late, late, late.
I hate it when she's late.
But then again, she's always late, isn't she? Late for dinner, late for meetings- too late in general. Too late to stop what happened. Too late to change her mind. Too late to turn back. Much, much too late. I still remember it as if it were yesterday. . .
Out of the darkness came a light. (A dim light, but a light nonetheless.) And out of the light came a girl and a boy. (Strange children, fearless and hyper. But kind hearted all the same.) And out of the girl and boy came candy. (Too sweet for my tastes, but oddly intoxicating.) And out of the candy came a sort of bond. (Trust was such a strange concept for me, back then.) And out of that trust came friendship. (They came to visit me almost every day, despite the weather or their moods.) And out of the friendship came a Contract. (I'd never been more grateful of or more scared for anyone.) Out of the contract came a partnership. (Sometimes I wonder which one of us is the devil in our partnership.) Out of the partnership came love.
But that love was never spoken of. It came too late. Late, late, late.
I don't know when it happened. Maybe when I first saw her standing there in the gloomy glow of my grave. Maybe when we began sharing a soul. Maybe when she first began hugging me or talking to me. When she opened up and- in all her destructive, crazy, 100-Rosette ways- began to show she cared.
She never clung to me, as I had heard in human romance stories that the heroine should. I think she was afraid that I'd do as her brother did, and retaliate against such softness. So instead I cling to her- allow her to push me around- only muttering in soft indignation after every punch, slap, pinch, and insult. I know she means well, but as I said- sometimes I wonder which of us is the demon, and which is the human- which is the nun.
Heh. What a character she is, my Rosette.
". . ." I feel my cheeks flush hotly at the thought of her truly being 'mine', eyes gazing blankly out of the convent's winter-gray windows. Snow is falling softly through the smog of New York City, burying the brown lawns and bare trees. A flock of pigeons flutter past the glass, the rustle of their feathers easily heard even through the barrier. Pulling my knees to my chin, I smile slightly as I sit on my cot.
I love her. I love Rosette Christopher more than anyone could possibly understand. Maybe it comes from sharing a soul, or from working together for so long, or from her friendship- which in itself is a rather rare thing. Not that she's unkind to anyone, but. . . Well, she's Rosette. She'd rather have a gun than a pal.
". . ."
Yes. . . A gun. I frown, biting my bottom lip. That's right- She's an exorcist. I'm a devil. She's a Sister. I'm. . . well, not. Nor am I religious. Not really. We're not allowed to be in love.
Late, late, late. On so many intricate, tangled levels.
Certainly makes a mess, doesn't it? A tangle of emotions and morals and. . . . Unexplainable forces working against us. We're both running out of time. I hate that pocket watch. . . I despise its purpose. It's not that I don't want to live, but I'd rather die than watch it eat away at the one I love.
But. . . telling Rosette that would be pointless. She'd never break our Contract.
. . . And in my heart of hearts I don't want her to.
What a mess. . . Such a tangled me- - -
"?" I blink in mild surprise as a sudden rapping echoes off the corner of my tiny stone room, coming from the opposite side of the closed wooden door. "Yes?"
"Chrono! Open up! I haven't got all day!" Rosette barks, voice masked by mock annoyance. Finally! She's here!
I grin slightly, pushing a few long strands of hair behind my pointed ears as I make my way to the knob, unlocking the door and opening it just a crack. Peeking through the gap, my smile widens, eyes wrinkling in happiness as Rosette grins back at me, as boisterous as ever.
Then she slams her way in without another word. (. . . Ow.)
"All right then!" she claps her hands, pulling a brush out of her green belt-pouch as I try to regain the breath her sudden entrance stole from me. "Let's go, we have a lot to do today!" Patting the cot beside her, she waits in a semi-patient manner while I scurry to her side, promptly sitting down. As I do so, she pushes herself upon her knees and begins to brush my hair, using long, careful strokes to comb from the roots to the tips without yanking out too much. (Which is a nice- when she was younger she once accidentally pulled out a fist-sized clump. Obviously, that didn't tickle. And I was bald there for a while. That really stank.)
"Mmm. . .That feels nice," I sigh, a content smile on my face as my eyes slowly flutter shut, relaxing as Rosette continues to comb through my locks. Comb through them just like she did yesterday morning, and the morning before that, and the one before that. . .
It is a tradition, really- though not spoken of, much like our affections. A daily activity since that picnic with Joshua in the middle of the field, the day she first braided my hair. Ever since then it was silently decreed that the morning would not officially begin until she had come in, brushed out the tangles, snarls, and knots, and braided it again. I didn't know why she was so insistent upon doing the job herself- my hair was and is so long that I could do it and save her the trouble. But after a week of making me take out the braid so that she could redo it, I caught the hint and set the task aside for her. And she would do it. No matter what. No matter how mad or sad or happy she was. No matter how frustrated or annoyed I was. No matter how late (or, however rarely, early) she showed up. I only once asked her why. She only blushed and smacked me upside the head with her comb in reply. But that told me all that I needed to know.
She just liked having a reason to be close, for us to touch in a safe situation.
. . . Like me.
She is a nun, after all. She has to obey some of the rules of the church, or else we might get kicked out. Then we could never save Joshua.
Such a sticky, tangled mess.
"Feels good? Can't think of why it would," Rosette grumbles, though I can tell she isn't really angry with me. "There are so many tangles that we- uh- I!- can barely make it through. . . Er, with the brush, I mean." With that she chucks the brush across the room and begins to masterfully lace the evenly separated strands together, finishing it off with a tightly tied ribbon. ". . ."
I cock my head in surprise as I hear a sudden sniffling behind me, turning my face just in time to see her running the back of her gloved hand under her nose, rapidly blinking. "Rosette. . . ?" I question softly, honestly shocked- and more than a little worried. "Rosette, are you okay?"
She nods quickly, cursing allergies and some other garbage under her breath as she makes to stand- - -
But is stopped as I reach out a hand and grab her own, tugging her gently foreword into my lap.
". . ."
Our gazes link as we turn dark magenta.
". . ."
Yes, at first this position is (to say the very least) a bit awkward- do to the fact that she's a head taller than me in this form and that we're both easily embarrassed when it comes to romantic situations- but she soon relaxes a bit and rests her head on my shoulder, sliding into my embrace with a little wiggle or two. "It'll be fine," I tell her in forced cheerfulness, gingerly allowing myself to hug her. "Tangles may hurt at first, but with a little work they'll be gone. And then things are all better."
I close my eyes and rest my forehead on top of her headdress, listening to the continuous tick of the pocket watch.
Things will get better. Untangle.
I know they will.
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I kinda liked the mental picture of Rosette knocking the wind out of Chrono with a door. Heehee.
Anyway, that's about all for now. I hope you enjoyed- and that it wasn't too horrible. . Please R&R! Ja ne! XD