Meant for More (Preview REDUX!)

As I've cracked the 5k mark with this story, I kinda realized it made a better Kasumi story considering my normal writing patterns, as it didn't take much change. So here's the intro scene redone with Kasumi instead of Materia, which will be the definitive version of the story.

This also changes it from an anti-faith story to something a bit more wholesome about finding one's true self.

"This was certainly an unusual occurrence, as Dorothea stepped into the innocuous knickknack shop. She didn’t remember a place like this existing the last time she had wandered away from the monastery, but it was a wonderful curiosity to distract the nun from her troubling thoughts. The items out on display didn’t seem to have price tags, so perhaps you needed to barter the price with the owner?
The curious nun's crystal blue eyes scanned the store, falling upon a woman the very sight of made her blush from a mixture of things. She was there at the counter, a guitar settled across her lap as she quietly plucked at the strings, tuning them with her slender fingers. Long red-dyed locks framed her face, making her hazel eyes stand out like proper treasures. There was a small ring pierced through one of her rose coloured lips, the small gleam of silver just enough to keep your gaze there and admire their beauty.
Dorothea found herself swallowing thickly. With how she was dress, heavy boots propped up on the counter with torn jeans that showed glimpses of her smooth, pale legs, she was obviously some form of heathen. Was it acceptable for the nun to associate with her? “I don’t bite,” the hazel eyed beauty teased, turning those lustrous orbs up at her, “Unless you ask me to of course,” she added with a mischievous grin.
She found herself blushing in response. The way the punky woman was looking at her was like she could see right through her habit to her body underneath. It was unsettling to say the least, making the chaste woman rest her arms in front of herself in an attempt to conceal her body. “I would rather prefer you didn’t miss,” she stated calmly.
The dark haired girl gave a giggle, rising to her feet and drawing her customer’s blue eyes to the way her chest swayed temptingly. “Awe. You seem like you’d be pretty tasty though,” she continued to tease, licking her ruby painted lips. She set her expensive looking instrument down on the counter, giving the nun her full attention “Welcome to Madam Materia’s Magical Menagerie tasty,” she offered with a wink, “The name's Kasumi, and it'll be my pleasure to help you out today.”
Magic? So the woman was some sort of heathen. Her blue eyes returned to the shelves, a sudden middling fear washing over her at the Devil’s tools. Though such fear only served as further fuel for her own curiosity.
She cleared her throat though, shaking her head. “There is no such thing as magic,” she informed the woman matter of factly.
Kasumi simply giggled, resting a gloved hand over her mouth to hide her playful smirk. “Well, I guess someone should tell my boss then,” she joked, stepping around the counter as her heavy boots thudded on the ground.
The woman demanded attention with her presence, Dorothea's eyes coming back around and watching the way her every curve moved sinuously. She was not ashamed of such a display either, carrying herself with a pride that sparked a jealousy in the nun. To admit such sinful thoughts though would not be proper. She was brought up better than that.
“Losing faith tasty?” the hazel eyed punk asked, striking the nail firmly on the head.
The nun's face went flush, and she turned her back to the woman to hide the effect she was having on her. “I’ve said no such thing,” she replied, though the statement was fanning the embers of doubt that had been smouldering at the back of her mind.
This outing was supposed to quell such temptation within her. In the months since her nineteenth birthday she had been feeling… there were not words for it other than lost. She had grown up in the monastery, with the nuns raising her to be a proper woman. As of late though, she had noticed things about herself.
She was beautiful. Beneath her habit the fair faced woman had the blooming body of a goddess. Long golden blonde hair, plump, pert breasts, a flat tummy, flared round hips with an, as the punk had remarked, tasty rear. More and more she was catching the eyes of men, and even some misguided women, and she couldn’t keep denying to herself; she liked it.
The buxom punk chuckled at the reaction, “You didn’t have to. You’re as easy to read as a I was in your position,” she told the blushing blonde.
Was she really that obvious? Did the other nuns see it in her too? “I’ve lived my whole life in service to God,” she said, as if to strengthen her own resolve.
A small smirk crossed the punk's pierced lip, “All the more reason you want to see if there’s more out there than being a servant to the divine,” she purred, further stoking the fires of doubt in the blonde.
The thudding of the punk's boots drew closer, and with a dip the rocker and her beautiful features popped back into her vision. “Just look at me,” she smiled, “Wearing myself on display. Proud of my charm, my sexuality,” she teased, wiggling her for the girl, “I’ve found where I'm the one thing that matters. Happy,” she finished, letting her gaze drift slowly up the blonde until their eyes met.
Her crystal blues turned away with a blush at that. The punk knew just where to slip in her sharp words to cut deep. “Pride is a sin,” Dorothea told the woman, struggling to keep her defenses up.
“Why?” she asked earnestly, straightening and wandering to the shelves as she took off one of her gloved. “Because someone else told you so? Someone jealous of your natural beauty told you you needed to be ashamed of it?” she suggested innocently, as her she covered her right eye with her palm.
The redness in the blonde’s cheeks deepened. How was she consistently right? The girl nervously rubbed the back of her hand, recalling the brutal whip of the ruler against her knuckles when she’d been caught letting her self value get out of hand. Self-esteem and self-respect were good, but they could become arrogance and hubris if left unchecked.
As she removed her hand the punk's eye glowed a neon blue, as she scanned to find the item she was looking for; a simple hand mirror. Reaching out her bare, delicate hand, she drew it up, bringing it over to the nun. “Isn’t jealousy a greater sin?” she asked, turning the reflective surface to the blonde’s face.
She had seen her reflection before, but never had it taken her breath away quite like this. The woman looking back at her was positively radiant. She wasn’t wearing her veil, letting her golden locks fall over her shoulders and frame the soft beauty of her face. Her crystal eyes seemed to sparkle, done up with the lightest amount of makeup that made them seem to pop, and her soft pink lips shone with a thin gloss.
Dorothea had to check to make sure it was even real, reaching up to make sure her headdress was still in place and seeing the better version of herself mirror the action. “What is this?” she gasped, reaching out and taking the mirror in her hands.
“Magic,” the punk answered simply. “A little glimpse of potential, what you could be like if you let yourself out tasty,” she teased with a little wink.
The nun paused, looking into her reflection. Wasn’t this how the Devil worked, by offering temptation? Still she couldn’t bring herself to outright refuse it. “Just a glimpse?” she inquired.
Kasumi stepped up, taking the blonde’s chin in her fingers and lifting her up to meet her gaze. “Maybe a bit more tasty,” she purred.
Dorothea’s breath caught in her throat, her heart throbbing up into her chest as the punk held her gaze. The way she looked at her was like looking into the eyes of God, or something greater. And yet they looked back at her with the kind of desire that those that visited the monastery gave her, and filled her with that conflicting sensation of want.
“You’ll just have to see for yourself though,” she teased, slipping away back towards the counter.
The nun swallowed heavily, locked once more with her radiant reflection. It couldn’t hurt just to glimpse, to sate some of her curiosity. “How much are you asking for it?” she asked, pulling it to her chest and turning to watch the sensual sway of the rocker's hips.
The woman simply held up her hand, fingers curled into a nice fat zero. “We don’t take money,” she told the woman, as she turned a smile over her shoulder. “I just like seeing people like yourself happy tasty.” " - "Meant for More" by Madam Materia