The Book of Lucia, Chapter I - La Vie En Rose

[BlackAkuma]

The outer area of LAW’s arena was, to put it mildly, a tangled mess of consumerism and capitalism. It always had been. The truth was, while LAW made a ton of money off of sponsorships and ticket sells, the real, beating heart of their empire was found in the merchant stalls. The t-shirt, lining the walls, emblazoned with the faces of a dozen women in various poses and stages of undress. The commemorative cups. iPhone cases, hats, replica belts, masks. Money, money, money.

All of it disgusted Sister Lucia more than words could say. But, today, she would try to find those words, anyway.

The crowds in the hallways parted as she and her fellow sisters - Chastity and Prudence - came strutting through, with a cameraman that they had accosted following close behind them. One of the benefits of being the Hentai Champion was that, wherever she went now, cameras were sure to follow, and that gave her a voice she had never enjoyed before. It was a weapon she fully intended to use.

”Sinners, sinners, everywhere.” She made her way around the stands with the Bible Belt slung over her shoulders. ”I walk through these halls, and I find myself astounded and astonished truly. Has there ever been such a den of inequity as this? Such a foul pit of vipers?”

Sister Lucia made her way over to one of the stalls, where a man had just made a proud purchase of a Death Bunny figure. Before the child could react, she hurriedly came out, snatched it out of the man’s hands, and held it up for all - but especially the cameraman - to see. The man himself started to try and take it back, but Prudence quickly stepped between the two of them, and the height difference forced a second thought on his notion.

”Look at this!” She held the figurine in front of the camera. ”You worship pagan idols! You fill the coffers of the wicked! It is nothing but mammon!” Sister Lucia threw the figurine on the floor, raised her boot, and promptly smashed it under her heel. ”Mammon!”

”Hey, you crazy bitch, I paid for-”

The man moved towards Sister Lucia in a fit of rage, but Prudence’s boot to the gut silenced the customer’s protests, and he was sent down to his knees, gasping and wheezing. Sister Lucia moved on without a second thought, leaving him to suffer with what little remained of his heathen purchase.

The trio made their way over to the small food court next, where some of LAW’s patrons were merely trying to enjoy their food while they waited for the next match to start. Spying a man about to quaff down a large cup of Cola. She rushed in, snatched the drink away from him, and poured it over his face while the other fans scattered, leaving him dumbfounded and distraught. ”Mammon!” She screeched in the man’s face. ”You fill your disgusting maw with these vile confections! You sit and watch as naked women writhe and squirm in the ring, all for you pleasure. Where is your shame? To what depths will you not sink?”

Sister Lucia made herself up on top of the table, kicking away the rest the man’s dinner as she made space for herself. She raised the Bible Belt high above her head and held it there like a shining beacon, a light in the darkness to guide all.

”Listen to me, you so-called ‘fans’! I’ve not just come for the hentai division, I’ve come for you! I’ve come to show you the way, the true way, whether you wish it or not! I’ve come to cast the scales from your eyes and strike down the false gods you worship! I am your savior, you deliverer, but more than anything, I am your champion!”

The crowd began to swarm around them, forcing security to intervene, but Sister Lucia wasn’t the least bit perturbed. This was precisely the sort of electric response she had counted on, and she reveled in it.

[Lightman]

Madeline Christiansen had been a very busy woman of late, which was precisely how she preferred things.

In the tumultuous world of LAW, involvement was not merely a choice, but a necessity for survival. Signings, photoshoots, cutting promos, assessing prospective talent, and, naturally, the incessant demand for matches consumed her days. Without this frenetic pace, the Englishwoman knew she would be consigned to the ranks of those countless hopefuls who, despite their grand ambitions, ultimately faded into obscurity, a fate that had befallen many who had sought to make their mark within these hallowed, if controversial, halls. The gates to LAW might not be as impenetrable as some romanticised, but gaining a foothold, cultivating a fan base, and convincing management to continually schedule one’s bouts? That was the true gauntlet.

Yet, despite the undeniable pleasure she derived from her burgeoning success, a distinct void persisted within her. Engagements galore were commendable, but they were merely milestones on a longer journey, not the destination itself. That ultimate prize, that undeniable proof of supremacy, was a championship. A title belt. It was the singular ambition that propelled every competitor, though only a select few ever proved themselves worthy of its embrace. Madeline understood this fundamental truth intimately. From the comparatively proper tournaments of the minor leagues, which had paved her path to LAW, to the more… “spirited” duels, a prize always awaited the victor.

In LAW, however, that coveted hardware felt tantalisingly out of reach. Initially, she had mused upon the calibre of the competition, squaring off against several who were undoubtedly championship material. While she held no ill will towards certain notable combatants she had been privileged to share the ring with, particularly Natasha Loclear, her defeat in the opening round of the H-1 Climax still rankled somewhat. Loclear, Madeline conceded, was intelligent, alluring, and supremely skilled, embodying the very essence of the opponent she craved. However, casting her mind over some of the other participants in that tournament, there remained a handful she deemed undeserving, for reasons she could not quite articulate. Ones that somehow managed to get further than the ones deserving.

Such lingering thoughts, no matter how Madeline attempted to reframe them, fostered a quiet resentment. What was the ultimate purpose of all these matches, all this relentless striving, if the finish line remained forever elusive? The hentai division, despite its undeniable profitability, was often viewed as cursed. Not due to its combatants, but rather because its overseers rarely acted in its best interests. First, there was the lacklustre bluster of Dan DeFranco…

“Mammon!”

…And now, the histrionics of Sister Lucia.

It was only a matter of time before the latest champion made her presence known, both figuratively and literally. Madeline, clad in chic, casual attire rather than her usual battle regalia, took a deliberate sip of her tea, her ears registering the distinctive cacophony before her eyes confirmed the sight. There she was: the new hentai…no, bible champion, approaching with an agitated multitude trailing in her wake. The moniker did not quite possess the same satisfying ring, and Madeline was still adjusting to Lucia’s grand pronouncements of impending reform within the division. All of it, in Madeline’s estimation, boiled down to mere theatrics. The hentai matches, notwithstanding Sister Lucia’s fervent crusade, continued unabated. Indeed, several were likely in full swing at this very moment. Madeline could easily foresee management allowing Sister Lucia her disruptive spectacle, while the loyal patrons continued to enjoy the action. This was hardly the first time Madeline had encountered someone intent on the hentai division’s downfall, and Sister Lucia - whose transparent ‘righteousness’ was plain for all to see - would assuredly not be the last. Such individuals still represented a minority. An irritating and insular minority, perhaps, but a minority nonetheless.

Even so, there was a compelling reason Madeline had pushed herself from her comfortable chair and purposefully advanced towards the growing throng. Regardless of how dismissively some regarded the hentai division, it was, in truth, far more profound than its detractors cared to admit. Madeline had witnessed more competitive fire and unyielding determination from sex fighters than from the majority of conventional professional wrestlers. Many acclaimed athletes lacked the mental fortitude of one battling to suppress an orgasm in the throes of combat. There were those within the hentai division who truly excelled at their craft, and such individuals deserved a cause to champion. And frankly, Madeline had grown weary of the incessant disrespect hurled at hentai wrestlers.

Madeline approached Sister Lucia, her voice cutting through the clamour with an unexpected calm. “Well, isn’t this a delightful display of evangelism?” Madeline offered, a faint, almost imperceptible curl of her lip betraying her amusement. “Are you quite certain you’re casting out demons, or merely creating a more colourful spectacle for the masses?”

[BlackAkuma]

That voice.

Sweet, seductive, posh, pristine, and utterly drenched in English brogue. Not at all a common thing to hear this far east, but a quick look down found the source of it. There, below Sister Lucia, looking up her with those big, glowing green eyes, was a woman with long, brown hair and a voluptuous form, one that could be clearly seen even if her attire wasn’t meant to show it off. She held herself with an imperious posture, one that seemed to radiate control, and you could see its effect on the crowd. They were giving them all space, now, as the cameraman circle around their quartet.

Sister Lucia blinked, took a moment to process, and a thin smile came over her lips. Oh, she knew this one.

”Madeleine Citronelle.” She crossed her arms, hopped off the table, and came down right in front of the taller woman, hitting the linoleum floor with a sharp crack. ”We meet at last.”

A deep, heavy groan came from Prudence as she wiped a hand over her face. ”Christiansen. That’s Madeline Christiansen.”

Ugh, Sister Lucia had never been all that good at names. In her defense, the LAW roster was ludicrously huge. Those probably weren’t even the only two Madelines. ”Oh, well, be that as it may.” She coughed, straightened up, and pulled the belt higher onto her shoulder. It could be annoyingly ponderous. ”That name, Christiansen…Sister Prudence, correct me if I’m wrong…”

”I just did.”

Sister Lucia threw a quick, hot glare her way, only to find a flat stare waiting for her. She continued. ...but wasn’t Madeline Christiansen in the H1 Climax Tourney?”

”She was.”

”And did she not lose in said tourney? In the first round?”

”Yes and yes.”

”To the person who then went on to lose…to me?”

”You’re on a roll.”

”Heavens above, I am!” Sister Lucia clapped her hands together and leaned forward, putting herself dangerous close to Madeline’s personal space. ”So, here’s the question - is the strumpet who lost to the strumpet I defeated truly so foolish as to shimmy her shabby self over to me as if she poses some kind of threat? Hm? Surely you have some higher purpose in provoking me, Madeline Christiansen.”

Amusing as this all was, Sister Chastity seemed rather less involved than her two compatriots. As they spoke, she occupied herself by taking a leisurely stroll around the trio, eying Madeline from head to toe as she went and not doing a single thing to hide it. All with a lazy, easy smile and not the smallest hint of malice.

[Lightman]

Madeline had not truly expected to be heard. The gathering was lively, yes, but not so overwhelming that her voice would be swallowed whole. No, her assumption had been far simpler and rather more cynical. She had believed Sister Lucia would ignore her entirely, would carry on with her spectacle as though no one else in the room existed beyond her chosen audience. It had struck Madeline as the sort of performance designed to provoke and unsettle, not to invite genuine challenge. Which made the irony rather exquisite. Fishers of men, indeed.

And yet, to her surprise, Lucia had heard. The Saint’s head had snapped toward her voice with immediate recognition. The crowd shifted back at once, instinctively clearing space as soon as Madeline spoke and Lucia leapt from her makeshift pulpit.

Two details presented themselves at once.

The first was the difference in height. Lucia, for all her presence, stood noticeably shorter, her head barely reaching Madeline’s shoulders. It was not something Madeline lingered on with any sense of pride. She had long since learned that stature meant very little once the bell rang. There were women smaller than Lucia who could dismantle her piece by piece. There had even been a Rose, once, who had ruled with absolute authority, leaving no room for pretenders. Madeline did not mistake inches for superiority.

The second detail was rather more telling. Lucia did not know her.

Madeline’s brow creased, just slightly, as the name was spoken incorrectly. The reaction from Prudence followed swiftly, a low groan that carried more weight than any correction needed to. Madeline’s eyes flicked towards her, and for a brief moment there was something shared there. A flicker of mutual understanding. Embarrassment, perhaps, though tempered with something else. Recognition, faint but persistent, tugged at the edge of Madeline’s thoughts when she regarded Prudence, though she could not yet place it...

Still, Lucia eventually landed upon the correct name, and with that came the taunts. Madeline had fully expected them, yet the accuracy did not soften the sting. Lucia’s methods were well known to be anything but saintly, and everyone present was aware of the dubious route she had taken to secure her place at the top. Yet the bracket still read what it read. Results were results. There was no arguing with what stood carved into LAW’s recent history. And Madeline knew better than to waste her breath debating with a zealot.

She let the Sister talk. It cost her nothing. It also allowed her time to study the theatrics with a detached composure. Lucia stepped in close, far closer than most people dared. Madeline did not retreat. If anything, the Englishwoman straightened her spine with deliberate grace. Chastity’s lazy circling did not bother her either, although she felt the scrutiny along her skin like the touch of warm fingers. There was no malice in it, only curiosity, and that alone made the Austrian the least troublesome of the trio. So far, at least.

When Lucia finally settled on her insult about strumpets and shabbiness, Madeline felt the faintest curl at the corner of her mouth. The Sister had tried to pierce her pride. It was a common tactic, and not a particularly refined one. Before she spoke, Madeline tilted her head as if contemplating something of mild interest rather than an affront.

A strumpet, is it?” she replied, her tone cool, touched with a hint of dry amusement. “I should think, before assigning such titles, one shouldn't struggle to distinguish between a blonde and a brunette.” Her voice floated through the charged space with calm precision. “I’d imagine the rest of your recollections must be equally muddled, if that's the case.” She allowed that to hang for a beat, serene and unhurried.

“Still, I appreciate the effort. It must be exhausting, carrying both a title and such an imaginative vocabulary. Nevertheless, you are not wrong. I did lose. In the first round, no less. And yes, the woman who defeated me did not go on to claim victory herself.” Madeline’s voice did not waver, nor did she attempt to soften the admission. “Facts, when plainly stated, lose much of their sting.”

She kept her eyes on Lucia instead, her posture relaxed, her stance unwavering. “As for whether I pose a threat, that is not for me to claim, but rather something one proves. In a ring. Against an opponent who does not hide behind spectacle.”

Madeline took a single step closer, closing the distance without encroaching, her presence steady and assured. “Anyways, let us not dress this in anything grander than it is. You have a title. One that is quite…unrecognisable, but a title nonetheless. And title holders need challengers. You have, by your own account, defeated someone who defeated me.” A faint tilt of her head followed. “Which, if we are to follow that logic, should make this rather trivial for you.”

Madeline’s lips curved, not quite into a smile, but close enough to suggest it. “Unless, of course, you find yourself uncertain. And no need to be modest. After all, if everything you have said is true, then you would have no issue facing me one on one for that title. You worked ever so hard to defy the odds and defeat Natasha…” Her gaze did not waver. “…Surely I would be a rather simple task by comparison. You defeat me, and that's one person saved from performing such... debauchery~.”

[BlackAkuma]

Oh, but this one had a lot to say, didn’t she? Mouthy. Sister Lucia would concede, she found that rather amusing. Most often, when her opponents mustered the courage to say anything back to her at all, they went with silly, pithy remarks about her outfit or pathetic attempts to mock her faith or criticize the way in which she practiced it. It was actually a rather rare thing to have some try and communicate with her on the same level.

Let her have her japes. She suspected they both knew where this was going. Taking the hentai belt and making it her own wasn’t simply an act of dominance. The Belt - gilded, glittering, a shining symbol of everything the hentai division didn’t stand for - was meant to be bait. It was a way of drawing the sinners to her so she could deal with them, and she was so eager to see that it was already working.

The crowd was getting restless, no doubt thinking some escalation was in the making, and with good reason. Madeline was taking a real risk, here - outnumbered, three to one, and Sister Lucia had already shown she had no qualms in employing that numbers advantage. This could go quite spectacularly bad.

Fortunately for her, Sister Lucia had intentions of getting to that point. Yet. She wanted to hear the woman’s words, first.

And what words they were, too. The comebacks were sharp enough, the opening comment was even enough to raise Sister Lucia’s hackles, but what truly drew her attention was the talk of titles and challenges.

”And there it is.” Sister Lucia wagged a finger her way and stepped closer, bridging what little gap their was between them. She raised on her tiptoes to better match Madeline’s height. ”I thought you would never ask - I would love the opportunity to put a stop to you wicked ways and close those legs of yours for good. Simply name the place, and I-”

”No.”

The sudden sound of Sister Chastity’s voice cut through the moment and knocked Sister Lucia off her guard, making her stumble back and drop down to her heels. The brunette was standing behind and slightly off to the side of Madeline, and it seemed her expectation was at an end. She gazed at the Englishwoman with a queer interest now, as if she knew something about the situation that no one else was privy to.

Sister Lucia, confused, merely blinked a few times, and even Sister Prudence seemed a tad baffled. ”No…what?”

”There will be no title match. Not for her. Not yet.” She strolled around Madeline’s side. ”What you hold on your shoulders is of great import, dear Lucia, and few things made of men’s hands are given freely. If she would fight for the title, let her fight for the right as well. Let her wash away the stain of her defeat before she seeks to wreath herself in gold. Let her compete.”

Sister Chastity brought a hand to her large, swelling bosom. ”Against me.”

[Lightman]

“…And you are?”

Madeline’s question hung in the air, a stark contrast to the sudden, almost palpable silence that had fallen over the small group. She had not intended for it to sound quite so blunt, but the sheer unexpectedness of Chastity’s interjection had momentarily flustered her. For a moment, even Lucia and Prudence wore expressions of genuine bafflement, mirrored by Madeline’s own.

It had seemed so simple. Lucia wanted challengers. Madeline had offered herself. Words had been exchanged, barbed and deliberate, but the direction had been clear enough. One sought to prove dominance, the other sought to test it. That was the natural order of such things. Agree to terms, select a venue, and let the matter be settled where it belongs - in the ring.

Instead, Chastity had inserted herself, almost at random, decreeing the inadmissibility of a title match. As if the decision rested solely with her, rather than with the champion herself.

Madeline exhaled softly through her nose. “My apologies, that was perhaps not the most appropriate way to phrase it. I know of you. The issue, you see, is that from what I have gathered, you are not in charge. Lucia is.” Madeline glanced pointedly at Lucia, offering a look that subtly suggested Lucia ought to seize control of her rather wayward flock. “And you are not the one wearing the title, are you? Again, that would be Lucia.”

Madeline’s gaze returned to Chastity, a hint of steel entering her voice. “So, with all due respect, I confess I am at a loss as to why you feel the need to involve yourself. I do not recall addressing you. Nor do I recall seeking your approval.”

She took a deliberate step forward, subtly positioning herself to reclaim the focus. “My challenge stands for the holder of that…belt. For the champion.” Her eyes flicked back to Lucia, a silent invitation to speak, to assert her authority. “I have already made my intent known. If that is insufficient, then perhaps the title itself is not quite the prize it purports to be.”

Madeline concluded with a pointed remark, a final dismissal of Chastity’s unsolicited counsel. “Since you're probably as confused as your shepherd is, I've already had my matches since, so that does not apply here. Once I have defeated her and claimed the title that she now so theatrically parades around, then, perhaps, you may have your opportunity. That is how these things work, after all.” She allowed a small, knowing smile to play on her lips. It was a well-worn path, one she had walked countless times. Disposing of the self-appointed gatekeepers before confronting the true power.

“Unless, of course, you believe your leader incapable of facing a challenge on her own and therefore requires your intervention?” Madeline added, keeping her voice light, almost conversational. It was a barb aimed not just at Chastity, but implicitly at Lucia as well. A test of strength, a probe of their hierarchy. Would Lucia tolerate such an implication of weakness?

[BlackAkuma]

If Sister Chastity was insulted by Madeline’s words, she didn’t show. She didn’t show much of anything. She simply stood, smiled and kept her gaze locked on the Briton the whole time, never wavering, never dropping, as if she’d said nothing at all.

While Sister Lucia didn’t want to outwardly admit, the sudden interjection struck her as passing strange, as well. After all, the bell's purpose was to draw women like this to them and take away their hentai privileges. If Madeline lost and never had her shot at the belt, they could not make such things happen. There was the benefit of wearing her down before the title match, true, but was that worth the chance? A sparrow in hand was worth two in the bush…

She stood, looking on, clutching the belt tight as Madeline made her case, and a solid one at that. Sister Lucia was the one in charge, here. The belt proved as much. She was not about to be gainsaid. While Sister Chastity could be…odd, at times, she was not in charge and was speaking out of turn. There was an order to things.

Sister Chastity nodded along as Madeline spoke, letting her do so without interruption. When she finished, the nun let out a long, sorrowful sigh and bowed towards the Briton, looking almost contrite. ”My ladies, I beg you to forgive my boldness. So spurred by your beauty, I must have lost some of my senses. I spoke with my heart, not my head.” It could’ve been a joke, it could’ve been serious. With Sister Chastity, it was hard to tell. Her expressions so rarely changed that it was hard to get a good understanding of her emotions.

Sister Lucia piped in and looked between them, still trying to make some sense of what was going on. So much talking, and she was starting to feel out of the loop in her own conversation. ”The forgiveness is given, but the confusion remains. I am more than capable of handling this slattern. Explain yourself.”

”I suppose I merely desire the opportunity to test myself against such a foe. Madeline Christiansen is a famed seductress, skilled in the art of pleasure. Skills that I myself wield in His service. I would test myself against her to improve my craft - after you defeat her, dear sister, I will no longer have such a chance.”

Sister Chastity turned back to Madeline and nodded her way, beaming with respect, her voice sweet and honeyed. ”The title match will take a little while to set up, regardless, and there is no need to rush, is there? Tonight. You and I. An exhibition. You may consider me a warm up.”

Sister Lucia rubbed her chin at that, still unsure what to make off the sudden intervention. Sister Chastity did seem oddly set on it, even if she couldn't exactly figure out why. That woman’s motivations were hard to parse, sometimes - it often felt like she had an agenda all her own, one she was not at all interested in sharing.

”I suppose that’s acceptable.” Sister Lucia finally acquiesced with a shrug. “Tonight you face Sister Chastity, strumpet. Win or lose, however, you will still face me, and have yourself purged from the hentai division.”

With her authority suitably established, she stepped forward again and dared to re-enter her future foe’s space. ”Am I understood?”

[Lightman]

Madeline found herself quite at a loss regarding Sister Chastity.

Barely moments into their acquaintance, the woman remained an enigma wrapped in a pleasant smile, unravelling what should have been a simple and direct exchange. The blonde nun’s stoic lack of reaction to Madeline’s pointed challenge was almost unsettling, as if her cutting remarks had simply dissolved into the air, unheard. There was something deeply peculiar in the way she carried herself. The stillness. The smile that never quite shifted. The sense that she was operating on a line of thought entirely her own, one that did not require the understanding or approval of anyone else present.

It led Madeline to wonder, if only briefly, how Lucia tolerated such an oddity on a daily basis.

Lucia, at least, seemed to share some of Madeline’s confusion. Her grip on the belt tightened, her stance betraying a conflict between her usual assertiveness and the unexpected tangent Chastity had introduced. Madeline almost interjected that “losing some of her senses” was a considerable understatement when it came to her loyal companion, but she held her tongue, observing the dynamic between the sisters with keen interest.

Lucia’s demand for an explanation from her subordinate felt almost like a plea, a confirmation that this was not part of some grand, pre-orchestrated plan from God. Chastity’s subsequent justification, a blend of flattery and thinly veiled ambition, did little to quell Madeline’s disquiet. The reasoning itself was not offensive. Not in principle. There was nothing inherently wrong with a competitor seeking to test themselves against another. In fact, it was something Madeline understood well. Provided they could offer the challenging match she truly desired.

Yet the timing lingered as a question that refused to be ignored. Why now?

Of all the moments to assert her desire for a contest, why interject precisely when Madeline and Lucia were on the cusp of agreeing to terms for a title match? Had Lucia been the sort of individual to orchestrate such a convoluted scheme, Madeline might have found it plausible. However, the champion’s visible bewilderment suggested this was Chastity’s personal venture, not a shepherd’s cunning ploy.

Madeline’s eyes returned to her, studying her more intently now. “And you believe…” she said at last, her voice measured, “…that this opportunity will vanish entirely should I fall to your dear sister?” There was a faint tilt of her head, curiosity threading through her tone. “That her reign is to be so absolute that no further challenges will ever arise? A rather…ambitious expectation.” She let the thought hang, not pressing it further.

Before she could continue, Lucia would answer with a shrug that seemed to surrender rather than command, acquiescing. Madeline’s gaze snapped to Lucia, a look of profound disbelief etched upon her features. The champion simply allowed her subordinate to commandeer the conversation, to insert an entirely new obstacle without so much as a proper debate. It was an astonishing display of either indecisiveness or an alarming degree of trust.

“I was under the impression that shepherds guided their flocks, not the other way around.”

A long, exasperated sigh escaped Madeline’s lips. So, an exhibition it was. “Very well.” Madeline said, her tone settling into something resolute. “If this is how you wish to proceed.” Her attention returned fully to Chastity now, her posture straightening ever so slightly. There was a firmness to her gaze that had not been there before.

“Since you wanted this opportunity this much, I trust, then, that you intend to make something of it. I have little interest in indulging passing curiosities or half-measures. If you step into that ring with me, you will do so with purpose.”

A brief pause followed, her expression sharpening just a fraction. “Though...pray tell.” Madeline continued, her voice quiet but pointed. “Should this…exhibition prove to be a waste of time, what then?” The question lingered between them, deliberate and unyielding. “Is there to be no consequence for diverting both my path and hers?” She inclined her head slightly towards Lucia. “For the sake of your own interests?”

The Briton's lips curved faintly, though there was little warmth in them. “Or shall we simply accept that your whims carry no cost?”

[BlackAkuma]

At Madeline’s words, Sister Chastity’s expression finally changed.

Not by much, mind you. The changes were slight, imperceptible to all, except for those who either knew her or had the keenest, sharpest eyes. But it was there, all the same. The slight twitch of a lip, along with the creasing of brow. The subtle tilt of her head, as if she were getting a better view of the woman before her. A puffing of her chest, like a fish trying to scare away a predator. Something was flashing behind those doe eyes. Anger? Fear? Anticipation? It was hard to say. But something.

She clasped her hands together, almost as if to pray. ”My dear, sweet rose. I believe in a great many things. Belief is a wondrous thing, would you not agree? Praise be.” Sister Chastity ran her palms across her knuckles, caressing them, as she opened her eyes and met Madeline’s gaze again. While the Briton’s eyes might have been a glowing shade of green, the nun were an equally vexing shade of blue, as if they were two pairs of gems plucked from the same mountain.

”But I do not believe you will lose, no - I know it. Sure as the sun rises. Sure as the fire. Sure as the air I breathe.” Sister Chastity sucked in a lungful and let her proud chest swell. ”You are a candle, flickering in the wind of an oncoming storm. I merely wish to feel your heat before it fades. Is that so great a boon to ask? I say no.”

Sister Lucia’s brow furrowed at that, and furrowed even further at Madeline’s snide little comments. Mocking as she was, there were kernels of truth flecked about her nonsense. For now, though, she was keen to bide her time and let Sister Chastity have her fun. Madeline would be hers to deal with, in due course.

A noise came from Sister Chastity’s lips - not a giggle, not a chuckle, not a full laugh, but something darker and deeper than her soft, heavenly voice had any business making. Or, maybe the crowd’s restless murmuring was playing tricks with their hearing. ”Pardon, my lady, but I said nothing about a ring. I’ve a special room set for us, adequate to our needs and quite appealing.”

Sister Prudence, who had so far succeeded in staying stoic and silent at all this, finally had to break in with a scoff. ”Uh, excuse me?” She raised her hand. ”When did you set that up?”

A good question. Sister Chastity did not answer it.

”As for a prize, well…” She ran a curious finger under her chin, pondering for a moment, before she brought expecting eyes to Sister Lucia, who took her sign right away. This was a good time for her to step in, put something on offer, establish her control and show a little face for the camera. It was her shot to call.

An idea was flickering.

”If Sister Chastity loses, then she and Sister Prudence will be banned from the ringside off our match proper.” Sister Lucia held out her hands, as if making a royal decree. “I will fight alone. Bereft of their valued moral support.”

[Lightman]

At first, Madeline thought very little of Sister Chastity.

It was difficult to regard her as anything more than a passing distraction. The woman revealed so little of herself beyond that serene, enigmatic façade that it was hard to imagine there was anything substantial beneath it. Her words drifted somewhere between sincerity and performance, her composure too still, too carefully maintained to allow for easy understanding. There was an enigma to her, certainly, but one that did not immediately invite interest so much as quiet dismissal.

Yet the longer they stood facing each other, the more Madeline sensed...something. Not much, and it's definitely not obvious given how expertly Chastity concealed her intentions, but enough to stir a faint tug of curiosity. A flicker behind those unchanging expressions. A tension in the smallest movements. These were small details, almost too small, yet they hinted at a mind that was far more active than her expression allowed. Madeline could not quite name it, nor fully understand it, but it stirred a faint, persistent curiosity within her.

For the first time she wondered whether dismissing her so swiftly had been premature. Something in those gemstone eyes flickered with an emotion she could not put a name to.

“A candle blowing in the wind is still just as dangerous.” Madeline replied, her voice smooth. “It may tip over and burn the whole boat to ashes. At that point, I'd hope you know how to stay afloat.”

She added, with a faint tilt of her head. “It is a bold thing to decide the outcome of a contest before it has even begun. I cannot decide whether to admire that confidence or question the foundation upon which it rests.”

Chastity’s darker laughter followed. Madeline did not react, though the sound grazed along her spine in a way she did not entirely appreciate. She kept still as talk turned to a special room she had apparently prepared. The timing of this revelation, combined with Prudence’s own confusion, only deepened the oddness of the entire situation. Madeline observed without comment, allowing the sisters to unravel their own threads.

Then came Lucia’s offer. If Chastity lost, she and Prudence would be barred from ringside for the title match. A fitting consequence, though Madeline noticed the flicker of irritation in Lucia’s brow. Even she seemed unsettled by Chastity’s overreach.

Madeline gave a small nod. “The terms are satisfactory.” Her assent was calm but final, as if sealing a pact.

She stepped past them; her stride confident as the crowd parted for her. Madeline did not look back until she was a few paces away. Then she offered Chastity a single cool glance, accompanied by a simple promise. “I will see you tonight.”

With that, Madeline continued on her way, leaving the Sisterhood to stew in their own contradictions while anticipation settled like a slow burn beneath her skin.