The Twin Goddesses Are Watching

A casual Claymore fanfic, Marimite style. Totally for fun, just had to write it down so I wouldn't forget the ideas in my head.

Synopsis: Cynthia is a cheerful and independent new student at Teresa's Catholic College, a prestigious high school for girls. On her first day at school, she develops a tender attraction to Galatea, a sarcastic, cynical, and somewhat anti-establishment third-year. Cynthia will later discover that Galatea is a member of the college's student council, the Lily Mountain Council. A triad of influential third-year students called the "Roses" lead the Council. There are three families of Roses: Red, Yellow, and White, and are respectively headed by Red Rose Galatea (Rosa Chinensis), Yellow Rose Miria (Rosa Foetida), and White Rose Flora (Rosa Gigantea).

Despite her sarcastic personality, it is because of her experience and wisdom that Galatea is a Rose. She has even violated the souer tradition of the College, which demands that a second-year student pass on her rosary to a first-year, forming a bond as sisters for each other's sake. Now in her third year, Galatea still has not chosen a souer – until now. What lies in store for Cynthia and the three Rose families?

Chapter 1: The Blooming of the Roses

Every morning, the girls of Teresa's Catholic College pray before the statue of the Virgin Mary upon arriving before moving on to class. Their youthful spirits are tempered by the refined elegance of the school's tradition. Their uniforms are deep green and haunting silver. Their collars are prim and tidy, and the pleats of their skirts are to be kept neat.

Walking slowly is preferred here.

Teresa's Catholic College: it is a school for silver-eyed maidens, cultivating spirituality, self-discipline, and modesty in all its students.


It all began at the statue of the Virgin Mary.

The summer holidays were over, and new academic year had begun at Teresa's Catholic College. Its three most influential seniors had just finished their morning prayers in front of Mary, their dark-green and silver uniforms impeccably worn. Known as the three Roses, they were the leaders of the student council, the Lily Mountain Council. The tallest and the most haughty-looking of the three stood in the middle, her wry expression betraying her boredom with the routine that was expected to be performed every time students passed the statue on their way to the school or back home.

Her name was Galatea, the Red Rose and de facto leader of the Lily Mountain Council.

The schoolgirls flanking her were of the same year, but remained her juniors in terms of academic achievement. To her left stood Miria the Yellow Rose (Rosa Foetida). To her right was Flora, the White Rose (Rosa Gigantea). They were both worried about Galatea. Like them, she had only one more year to go before graduation.

"It's more than past the time you found a petite souer, Galatea," spoke up Miria. She had long, spiky hair and a prominent, almost boyish forehead. She was graced with an athletic body that she had built through two years as the general secretary of the fencing club. So feared was her aggressive style and blinding speed that she had been given the name of "Phantom Miria". Her eyes were strict but on this occasion, they were filled with genuine concern. "It is unheard of that a student of your stature would leave the school without the experience of being a grande souer. Giving your rosary to a younger schoolmate and guiding her throughout her time at this institution – " She pointed at Galatea's exquisitely carved prayer beads, which were worn around her wrist. " – is a time-honoured, sacred tradition. Flora and I passed on our own rosaries to our sisters last year. And honestly, it makes our school life better, too. I can't imagine my stress on the Lily Mountain Council without Clare to help me and keep me company."

"Miria is right," said Flora, fluttering her elegant eyelashes. Shorter than Galatea by a head, Flora was stunningly attractive and the literal pride of Teresa's College. The Triune God had blessed her with an angelic body and a positively divine voice. She was the leading singer of the choir club, and her exemplary record at the school had only served to boost her popularity even further. Her wavy, golden hair spilled down to her chest and rippled in the sunlight like a waterfall from Heaven. Yet her concerns were quite down-to-earth. "Time is running out. Miria and I are worried that you will be graduating without ever giving your rosary to a first-year."

Galatea smiled as sincerely as sincerity would allow, but even then, the curl of her lips betrayed a certain irony. Taller than both Miria and Flora, she was the most intellectually accomplished of the three and whose sophistication and class differed from Flora's more classical femininity. It was by chance that she had become a Rose at all, let alone the most influential one by the title of Rosa Chinensis. "I couldn't find the right girl. That's all."

"You've been saying that for more than a semester," said Miria. "I mean no disrespect, Rosa Chinensis, but you've walked past the holy gaze of Mary for the past two years without a younger student by your side. Have you ever stopped to think about how she might feel?"

Galatea stopped herself from snorting. "If two years doesn't matter, I'm sure a decades-old sculpture will forgive my laziness for another," she said, before moving past Flora and walking in the direction of the main school buildings.

"Galatea! Watch your irreverence," reproached Miria indignantly.

"I haven't had breakfast yet," yawned Galatea, stretching lazily. "I'm grabbing some grub from the tuckshop."

"Grub?" blurted Flora. "You want worms?"

"Wait, Galatea," called Miria.

"I'll see you in physics class, anyway," called Galatea, waving a casual hand. "Catch you guys later."

"That Rosa Chinensis," sighed Miria, gazing at the receding back of Galatea. "Sometimes, her attitude really throws me off-track. It's as if she doesn't believe in the traditions and principles of the College. It's as if she answers to God only when she feels like it."

"Forgive her," smiled Flora, her melodious voice one with the rustling of the autumn leaves. "She is a unique leader. Don't you remember? This year, she'll be leading the Friday Scripture classes in the chapel again. I saw her there all the time last year, after my choir club. Galatea guides the younger students without interfering with how they think. She lets people fulfil their potential by giving them a space where humour, critical thinking and freedom of thought are emphasized over the fire and brimstone theology that sometimes plagues our seminaries. We sometimes do not notice, but she is truly a kind-hearted senior."

"Your words sound very Taoist to me," smiled Miria. "Or should I say secular?"

"As a faithful Catholic, I like to indulge in my ecumenical impulse," smiled Flora, and they shared a giggle as they resumed their walk to first period.


Galatea gave a sigh as she walked past the oak trees that lined the pathway to the cafeteria block. Very often, she wondered if she was better suited to a public school. She wasn't a good enough Christian, it was true – she admired most of the teachings of Christ, but the attitude of some of the teachers here reminded her of her stepfather, Ermita. She despised rules, regulations, and justifications of shifty things in the name of said rules. She felt lucky that Teresa's College didn't feel like an institutionalized version of Ermita.

She glanced ahead of her as she felt another presence. A girl was standing in the way, looking around the trees nervously. A foot shorter than Galatea, she looked anxious since it was almost class time. "Yo," called Galatea, giving a brisk salute. "You look like you could use a hand."

"Good morning," said the girl shyly, turning around and looking at Galatea. Her silver eyes were wide and innocent, and her hair was arranged into tails that draped in front of her shoulders. Her hands, placed modestly in front of her, were holding a black schoolbag. "Sorry I didn't see you. I was waiting for Tabitha and Yuma, but I think they got lost already."

Galatea gave an indulgent smile. The new student was cute. Clearly, she wasn't used to the etiquette that had to be observed at least during the mornings. She liked that. "You're with friends? How in God's good name did you manage to get separated in a place like this? I shudder to think what will happen to you guys when you're actually inside the school." She stared at the first-year's uniform. "Look at your neckerchief. You forgot to do it up properly." She moved closer to the embarrassed girl. She reached for her slowly, and was impressed that Cynthia did not shy away. "I hate doing these kinds of things," she sighed, "but this is so you won't get into trouble with the busybodies and teachers later."

The girl with the tails blushed as Galatea tied a modest knot and tightened the cloth. Her hands were gentle but moved with purpose. Silence reigned for several moments as first-year and third-year stood still in one another's company. Time seemed to slow down just for them, and the leaves of the oaks seemed to stop rustling. The atmosphere, for what it was worth, felt unexpectedly intimate.

"What's your name?" purred Galatea quietly. She did not bother to step back.

"Cynthia," said the girl eagerly, looking up at her and beaming. Their silver eyes were glued to each other. "My name is Cynthia."

The tall senior nodded as she completed her task. "I see. Well, I'll come around to your block at recess, just to make sure you and your friends are doing okay on your first day at school," she said, turning her back and walking towards the cafeteria. "Why don't you find Tabitha and Yuma before the bells ring? I need to get going anyway. My stomach is really growling."

"You haven't had breakfast?" asked Cynthia in surprise.

"I don't like eating at home."

Cynthia wriggled in her green-silver uniform uncomfortably. "May I know your name, too?"

"Ah, right. Sorry, I forgot, even though I asked you first. My name is Galatea. Pleased to meet you, little kitten."

Cynthia's eyes widened at her words. "Wait – you don't mean to say – that you're Rosa Chinensis?"

"Well, I wasn't going to say that," said Galatea, scratching her head, "but you're right. I'm the Red Rose."

Cynthia began to bow repeatedly in panic. The private mood seemed to have shattered. "I – I'm sorry!" she cried. "I didn't know you were a Rose of the Lily Mountain Council! I read all about the school's traditions before I came! I had no idea you were – so high up there – "

She made an unhappy face, puffing out her cheeks. "Geez, you could've told me earlier, Rosa Chinensis. I mean, someone so important – !" The poor girl flushed again, fidgeting with her bag and shuffling her black shoes.

Galatea smirked, waving a hand as she continued to walk away. "You're a funny one. That's all I can say. Catch ya later."

She had thoroughly enjoyed Cynthia's reaction. It felt so genuine, so real, and not to mention hilarious. It had been a long time since she felt like laughing out loud. It was almost malicious, taking advantage of Cynthia's naïveté. But it had made her day. Already, she could feel herself taking an interest to this trusting, cheerful girl.

"Cynthia the kitten… huh?" murmured Rosa Chinensis to herself.

Suddenly, the rosary around her wrist felt lighter.