The Book of Lucia, Chapter XVI - Beware of False Prophets

[Liesmith]

Tris’ first and perhaps understandable reaction to that statement was a slow blink. A non-verbal ‘huh’, if you like, as she took in the idea that anyone might find Sister Chastity unremarkable.

It wasn’t even just the bloody obvious visual things either. There was that accent for one thing, something soft and Central European that Tris was cautiously pegging as ‘German’ even if she wouldn’t have bet real money on it. And, though the young redhead couldn’t quite put her finger on what, there was something about the way the blonde carried herself that set her apart from the other cosplay nun-wannabees haunting the neighbourhood.

Not to mention minor details like, oh she didn’t know, why Tris had picked up a creepy nun-stalker. Or why the plain and simple invitation was somehow more unnerving than if Chastity had made it with a creepy ‘step into my parlour’ horror villain grin.

Regardless, as the conversation moved on, Tris’ hands stilled at the other woman’s hips, casually resting there in a gesture that’d have been entirely natural where the two a couple. Only for Tris to pull away, her hip and thigh brushing against the blonde’s as she went in a gesture that lasted a heartbeat too long for anyone to mistake it for chance.

Even if she’d thought she’d known where this conversation was going, Chastity kept on surprising her. Which made her interesting, which kept Tris from doing what she knew was the smart thing and making a break for it.

Because she’d never been able to resist a puzzle.

“Uh-huh,” Tris’ glance was as openly scathing as her tone, “Is this where you tell me that God has a plan for us, Sister? Cause the only thing drawing me here was the coffee.”

She reclaimed her cup from the low wall she’d put it on, took a long and very pointed sip while regarding the faux-nun with arched brows.

It was damn good coffee too. Sakura cream latte. Who knew?

[BlackAkuma]

Some might have been unnerved to be touched by a woman they barely knew. Even one as fetching as Beatrice.

Sister Chastity was many things, but never ‘some’.

As those thin, nimble fingers explored her body, she welcomed them warmly, even moved her body to ensure the greatest access. It was necessarily a sensual touch, meant for exploration rather than stimulation, but it served the former all the same. She kept her smile warm and friendly, gave nothing away with her face, but the subtle hints of her body told the story. She would have let the redhead touch whatever she wished, for as long as she wanted, without a single complaint.

When she finally moved away, Sister Chastity’s body moved with her, as if they’d been connected by magnetism for a moment. She stepped and retook her stance, as Beatrice kept the banter light and challenging.

”Maybe He does. Maybe He doesn’t.” Sister Chastity took a few steps to the side and kept her gaze locked on Beatrice’s body. Appraising? Analyzing? Assessing? Admiring?

”You came for the coffee. But you might not have. You might have had a taste for something different. You might have overslept. You might have found yourself delayed by a car crash, a flat tire, a sudden rain. Any number of changes, and we would not be here, and we would not be speaking, and I would not have the pleasure of such lovely company.” She had a laugh that was almost a chirp.

”I don’t proclaim to know the Lord’s will. That’s the claim of fools and Pharisees. But I don’t believe in dithering when an opportunity is presented, either. Some doors never close once their opened.”

[Liesmith]

There was something… a little irritating about it. The lack of reaction, Tris meant.

Not that she wasn’t getting any, as Chastity was evidently enjoying the light brush of Tris’ fingers as they traversed the curves and dips of the faux-nun’s physique (even if her smile had yet to falter even a hair). And not that the redhead was even slightly surprised at what she wasn’t getting, because the sister’s unflappability was clearly proof against anything and everything she’d tried so far.

But still. There was something proper condescending about it, as though she was a child to be patted on the head and told how clever she was.

You could stick two fingers up to that, thanks.

Still. It was a lovely body to touch, soft where Tris liked softness and firm where she wanted firmness. Even her brief exploration of the other woman’s midriff was intriguing and she found herself damnably curious about what she might find if she’d kept going, how those thighs would feel under her fingertips.

Hence why she’d stopped. Curiosity, when it came to legs like that, could kill any cat.

She hadn’t expected Chastity’s reaction, the way she followed as though caught in Tris’ undertow only to stop, step back. Didn’t know quite how to interpret it.

Chose not to comment on it. Nor on the way the Wicked Sister was eyeing her, though the redhead did offer a slight smile at the compliment.

Oh, and she was still sure she’d been set up. One hundred per cent, no doubt. She’d been to this same coffee shop, this same time every day almost since she’d moved to Tokyo.

“Nice speech,” Tris said instead, “A whole lot of words, saying a whole lot of nothing. Very churchy. Kudos for the realism. So, if we’re not talking about God’s plan or God’s will, how about yours, Sister? What’s your plan here?”

She took another sip of her latte, rolling the delicious liquid around her mouth for a moment so she could savour the taste. Then Tris tilted the cup, levelling it at Sister Chastity mock-threateningly.

“And please don’t insult my intelligence by saying you don’t have one.”