Title: Second Hand Moving
Chrno Crusade drabble.
The second hand is moving.
As a little girl, Rosette had no sense of time. Over and over again, Mrs. Jean would call her to supper, to help with laundry, anything because she was never there. She was sitting with Joshua, or fighting with Billy, or watching the trees grow. Time never truly occured to her as something that needed to be watched, and accounted for, and managed.
When she went to see Joshua, easily slipping past Mrs. Jean to get into his room, he would turn to look at her. The image had always been in her head; his body turned to the window, his head turning slowly to see her, with sunlight streaming past him and turning into a halo around his head. And he looked so pale, so fragile with his face always turned upwards, like some withering tower turning desperately to the sun for succor. She came and sat by him, and held his hand, and when he coughed, racking his thin body, she was his mother.
Perhaps, Rosette wondered, growing up for Joshua had made her forget how time passes. Because when she and Joshua fell into a cave and found a grave, time woke around her and started rushing past, as if to amend for the time it had been dormant. Chrno. Time. It was oddly symbolic, and she supposed she ought to have realized something. In Rosette's world, nothing ever happened by chance, and everything was destiny. Destiny for Chrno to come. Destiny for Joshua to then leave. Rosette only had room for Chrno in her life, because she couldn't take care of both of them, and maybe Joshua didn't want her anymore anyway.
And she left, an old woman-child, to dedicate her life to God, someone she had never really thought about. She had said grace at dinner, and prayed before bedtime, and went to church with the orphanage, but God was some distant figure who she was taught to respect. Rosette was never particularly religious. Even now, God is still some concept for her to hide behind when life hurts too much.
And Rosette found time, and she found she didn't like it. Time passed too fast, and she wanted it to stop again. Time was never lost or used to the little girl Rosette Christopher, who sat in the woods and watched dragonflies. Time was too easily spent to Sister Rosette of the Order of Mary Magdalene. Sometimes she wondered -- only sometimes, because she couldn't bear to use too much time on something that couldn't be changed -- if there had been something else to be done, if maybe she should have let Joshua go,let Chrno go, if she had just let herself become a normal nun. Or maybe, farther back, she should have just left Joshua to meet Father Remington. Maybe, maybe, maybe. But a mother can't let her children go, and she gave her time to Chrno.
And slowly, the first hand moves...
The second hand is moving.
As a little girl, Rosette had no sense of time. Over and over again, Mrs. Jean would call her to supper, to help with laundry, anything because she was never there. She was sitting with Joshua, or fighting with Billy, or watching the trees grow. Time never truly occured to her as something that needed to be watched, and accounted for, and managed.
When she went to see Joshua, easily slipping past Mrs. Jean to get into his room, he would turn to look at her. The image had always been in her head; his body turned to the window, his head turning slowly to see her, with sunlight streaming past him and turning into a halo around his head. And he looked so pale, so fragile with his face always turned upwards, like some withering tower turning desperately to the sun for succor. She came and sat by him, and held his hand, and when he coughed, racking his thin body, she was his mother.
Perhaps, Rosette wondered, growing up for Joshua had made her forget how time passes. Because when she and Joshua fell into a cave and found a grave, time woke around her and started rushing past, as if to amend for the time it had been dormant. Chrno. Time. It was oddly symbolic, and she supposed she ought to have realized something. In Rosette's world, nothing ever happened by chance, and everything was destiny. Destiny for Chrno to come. Destiny for Joshua to then leave. Rosette only had room for Chrno in her life, because she couldn't take care of both of them, and maybe Joshua didn't want her anymore anyway.
And she left, an old woman-child, to dedicate her life to God, someone she had never really thought about. She had said grace at dinner, and prayed before bedtime, and went to church with the orphanage, but God was some distant figure who she was taught to respect. Rosette was never particularly religious. Even now, God is still some concept for her to hide behind when life hurts too much.
And Rosette found time, and she found she didn't like it. Time passed too fast, and she wanted it to stop again. Time was never lost or used to the little girl Rosette Christopher, who sat in the woods and watched dragonflies. Time was too easily spent to Sister Rosette of the Order of Mary Magdalene. Sometimes she wondered -- only sometimes, because she couldn't bear to use too much time on something that couldn't be changed -- if there had been something else to be done, if maybe she should have let Joshua go,let Chrno go, if she had just let herself become a normal nun. Or maybe, farther back, she should have just left Joshua to meet Father Remington. Maybe, maybe, maybe. But a mother can't let her children go, and she gave her time to Chrno.
And slowly, the first hand moves...