Chapter 15: Curiosity

{Diana}

Diana tried to focus on her own training routine, she really did.

But it was hard to concentrate with all the giggling and swooning going on around her.

The training ground had turned into some sort of impromptu fanclub meeting, with at least a dozen warrior angels who should have been practicing completely distracted by their newest member.

[Seriously?] She thought, glancing over as Grace attempted another sword swing. [She can barely lift the thing. What’s so fascinating about—]

Grace’s practice shirt rode up slightly as she moved, revealing a strip of pale skin that made several angels actually gasp. One of them walked directly into a pillar.

[… You horny wenches.]

Diana immediately looked away, scowling. She was NOT going to be like these lovesick fools, getting all worked up over some tiny farm girl.

“She’s improving quickly, isn’t she?” Seraph’s voice held way too much amusement.

“Wouldn’t know,” Diana grunted, attacking what remained of her dummy with perhaps slightly more force than necessary. “Ask one of the women who’ve been staring at her for the last half hour. Or maybe that one who’s writing poetry about her hair or something.”

She gestured to where, indeed, one of their strongest warriors was furiously scribbling something that definitely wasn’t battle plans while stealing glances at Grace.

Seraph’s laugh boomed across the training ground.

“Oh? And you haven’t been watching at all? Not even a tiny peek?”

“Why in the world would I?” Diana replied as Grace let out a victory cry after finally completing a proper form, jumping up and down. The angels around her literally started giving her applause. “Some of us have actual training to do. You know, that thing we’re supposed to be doing instead of drooling over every new recruit?”

“Mhm.” Seraph’s smile was insufferable. “That’s why you’ve been beating that same dummy for twenty minutes? And why you growled at Sister Alanna when she offered to help Grace with her stance?”

Diana’s scowl deepened.

She opened her mouth to deliver what would have been a very cutting response, but Seraph’s expression suddenly turned serious.

“Diana,” the commander’s voice dropped lower, drawing close enough that her words wouldn’t carry. “Can I ask you for a favor?”

Diana’s eyes narrowed.

[Ah, shit.]

Seraph asking for favors was never a good sign. The last time she’d had that look, three practice dummies, two fountains, and someone’s favorite tea set had been sacrificed to what Seraph had called a “minor training accident.”

“… What kind of favor?”

“You’re one of our best fighters,” Seraph started, which only added to the unsettling amount of warning bells in Diana’s mind. “And I need someone to get our little Grace ready for combat. Before the week is over.”

Diana nearly dropped her sword.

“What?” She stared at Seraph like she’d grown a second head. “You want me to what? She can barely hold a sword without stabbing herself!”

“I want to see it,” Seraph’s eyes gleamed with an intensity that Diana recognized from their more questionable missions. “That power of hers. The ability to permanently kill demons.” She gestured to where Grace was now tangled in her own practice sword somehow, looking like a kitten that had gotten wrapped in yarn. “It’s… It’s hard to believe, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Right. Well, I want to see it for myself. And for that, she needs to be combat-ready. I want to take her out onto the field… But, obviously, I don’t want her getting herself hurt, get me?”

Diana arched an eyebrow.

“Does our dear Archangel know about this little plan? Because last I checked, pushing untrained angels into combat against ravenous demons was highly frowned upon.”

[And, to be honest, I’d like to go at least a hundred years before I see a demon again.]

Seraph’s smile turned positively feline, though.

“Let’s keep this between you and me, shall we? Consider it… independent study.”

Diana nodded slowly.

[Oh, this is such a bad idea,] Diana thought, watching Grace nearly take out three other angels with one clumsy swing. The worst part was how they all swooned anyway, as if being accidentally concussed by her was some sort of privilege. [She isn’t just not ready. She’s utterly untalented. And, I’m supposed to get her ready for a fight in one week???]

She sighed.

She probably should have told Seraph to fuck off. Should have flown straight to Celestia and informed her that the leader of the Sisters of Bravery had lost her damn mind.

But…

[… To be honest, I would also like to see that power at work.] Diana glanced over at Grace. [Is… Could it really be true that she can kill them? As in, they won’t just get back up?]

Curiosity won in the end.

“Fine. But when this inevitably goes wrong, I’m telling everyone it was your idea.”

“Excellent!” Seraph clapped her on the shoulder hard enough to stagger a lesser angel. “I knew I could count on you! Try not to get too distracted by those big golden eyes of hers!”

As Seraph walked away, Diana found herself watching Grace again. The tiny angel had finally gotten herself untangled and was now attempting another practice form, her face scrunched up in adorable concentration. A light sheen of sweat made her skin glow, and the way she puffed out her cheeks in frustration was just…

[… I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?]

Grace chose that moment to look over, catching Diana’s eye.

She pouted, giving a huff (though Diana was too far to hear it), and turning her face away.

[Our newest recruit isn’t particularly fond of me, eh?]

Diana pinched the bridge of her nose.

This was going to be a very long week. Could be worse, though. She could be that one angel over there, writing poetry about this girl.

—

{Grace}

Grace was actually getting better!

She’d managed three whole swings without falling over, which was definitely progress. Sure, maybe her last attempt had sent three other angels diving for cover, but they’d seemed oddly pleased about it. One of them had actually thanked her for the near-concussion.

“Your form is atrocious.”

Grace spun around (only stumbling a little!) to find Diana standing there, arms crossed under her chest in. As usual, the warrior angel wasn’t wearing a whole lot – just a black training wrap and shorts that showed off an absolutely criminal amount of muscle.

“Hmph.” Grace tried to channel her inner tough girl, which was hard when she had to crane her neck back just to meet Diana’s eyes. “What do you want? Come to make fun of my ‘drunk chicken’ fighting style again?”

“Actually,” Diana’s voice dropped lower, sending shivers down Grace’s spine, “I can’t stand watching you butcher the concept of swordsmanship any longer. It’s painful.”

“I am not—” Grace’s indignant protest cut off with a squeak as Diana stepped closer, close enough that Grace could smell sword polish and something spicier, something that made her head spin.

“You swing like you’re trying to swat flies,” Diana continued, circling Grace with predatory grace. “Your footwork looks like you’re dancing with two left feet. Your grip is so wrong it’s actually impressive.” She paused behind Grace. “And you keep staring at the ground instead of your opponent. Though…” Judging by her voice, Grace didn’t even need to turn around to know Diana was smirking. “That might be because you can’t reach anyone’s eye level.”

“W-Well,” Grace spun around, jabbing a finger at Diana’s admittedly impressive chest. “If you’re such an expert, maybe you should teach me!”

Diana smirked.

“That’s the plan.”

Grace’s brain short-circuited.

“Wait, what?”

Diana’s smile was absolutely predatory as she caught Grace’s still-pointing finger.

“Starting tomorrow, you’re training with me. No more of this…” She gestured around Grace. “Nonsense.”

Grace wanted to protest. Really, she did. But Diana was still holding her finger, and standing very close, and that look in her grey eyes amounted to a lot of unspoken pressure.

“F-Fine,” she managed, proud that her voice only squeaked a little. “But I won’t go easy on you!”

Diana’s laugh was low and rich.

“Yeah?” She leaned down until her lips nearly brushed Grace’s ear, her breath hot against sensitive skin. “I’m counting on it.”

Grace glared at the angel’s muscular back as she walked away.

[… I don’t like her.] She thought, pouting as she turned away and started swinging her sword again. [I don’t like her at all!]

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