CHEMICAL ROMANCE

7 1 0

1912

Joining les Filles de Jeanne D'Arc marked a significant change in Clara's life. While she had the freedom to leave the Tower, that privilege was rarely used. Sure, exploring the world had its charm, but there was something to be said about advanced weapons training in high heels.

Many of the other girls from the group were making the same choices, so Clara did not feel like she was neglecting other aspects of her life. The courses she took were markedly more challenging; combat training became a daily event as were courses reserved for students of the finest European finishing schools. Clara could not help but feel that there was a certain dichotomy to her education.

Clara and Edith grew closer as the weeks together turned into months. She rather enjoyed having an ally who did not feel threatened by her youth. No price could be set on being friends with someone who had her back, no matter how dangerous the situation got. Of course, the feeling was mutual, and that only strengthened their bond.

Edith had grown into a beautiful woman, calm under fire and tough as nails. Clara found herself looking up to her, hoping to meet or exceed the standards Edith set. Many of the other girls felt the same way, so Edith served as the group's unofficial leader.

Despite Clara's brief brush with fame, she was not the focal point of the group. This enabled her to lurk in the shadows where she enjoyed the ability to move about unnoticed. What better way to avoid getting caught? Mischief, after all, needed a certain amount of discretion.

She was not the only one who used her skills to hide in plain sight. Some instructors were adept at remaining unnoticed even while teaching their lessons.

"God, they were so boring," Clara mumbled.

Clara soon learned that some in society were unseen not by choice, but by convention. If humanity was good for anything it was ostracising one's fellow man.

Sister Beatrice however was a different creature altogether. She arrived at the Tower a month or so after Clara had joined the group. At first glance, she was a young woman who adopted the habit, one who sailed through crowds without raising a brow. Now there was a talent that Clara wished to master.

The day that Sister Beatrice walked into class left Clara confused. Despite her good memory for people and faces, she could not remember having seen her before, a trait it seemed that had saved her countless times.

"Sex!" Sister Beatrice exclaimed while on her way to the podium.

The class went silent as a tomb. It was not an everyday occurrence (if ever) to have a nun utter that word. Or at least without the accompanying sting of a leather strap.

Even though most of the class looked as though they had witnessed a train wreck, Sister Beatrice took things a step further. The sister pulled out a few pins from her habit and let her veil drop to the floor. Layers like her crown band, underveil, and coif followed suit. As though by magic, her long locks of auburn hair flowed down to her shoulders.

Clara grinned. There was a lesson to be learned here. Many of the girls were busy wondering how many taboos had been broken so far.

Her tunic was the last item to drop, which showcased her stunning hourglass figure. Gone was the mousey woman who could hide in a crowd. This version of Sister Beatrice could bring about serious neck injury to any male student.

This had been a vixen in sheep's clothing. With the veil removed, Clara saw how Sister Beatrice's ample breasts were barely contained by her little black dress. Clara could tell that a few of the girls were somewhat uncomfortable, and doubted that their sensibilities were hurt.

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