Round 23 Transcript

Jeane leans forward, her eyes gleaming with predatory interest. "Well? Cat got your tongue? Or are you finally realizing just how deep in over your head we all are?" She gestures lazily to the entity behind her—its tendrils now moving in slow, deliberate patterns across the glass surface.

The air crackles with unspoken tension as minutes stretch into a seemingly endless silence.

I watch Halia and Jeane face off across the room, their voices sharp with accusation and threat. My heart pounds as I shrink back against the door, trying to make myself invisible. This is all moving too fast—one minute we were just trying to survive in this hellish hotel, and now we're dealing with literal monsters while Halia loses her mind over a little holy water.

I shake my head violently, trying to clear the fear that's clouding my thoughts. There has to be a way out of this madness—we can't all become monsters just because some ancient entity is hungry for souls. But as I look around the room at the faces of my fellow survivors, I see only desperation and confusion.

Silra looks half-asleep where she's slumped against the wall, clearly still reeling from whatever Jeane did to her. Abby huddles nearby, our innocent civilian whose presence has suddenly become a bargaining chip in this twisted game. And Halia—

Halia stands tall, her jaw set in stubborn defiance even as Jeane's words cut through her righteous posturing. But it's not just the sorcerer's taunts that make my stomach clench—it's the way Halia holds that little bottle of holy water like a talisman against all this chaos.

I shift restlessly, my uniform shirt feeling suddenly too tight around my chest. I know I should say something—to try to reason with Halia before she does something we'll all regret—but the words stick in my throat. What can I possibly say that will make a difference?

Halia's next question hangs in the air, a fragile challenge against Jeane's unyielding power. I hold my breath, waiting for the sorcerer’s response—afraid it will be even worse than I imagine.

But mostly, I pray to every god who might still be listening that this nightmare ends soon and none of us have to become more monsters to survive.

I stare at Jeane across the room, her words still echoing in my ears like a physical blow. This isn't just about the holy water anymore—it's about principle, about not becoming what we're fighting against.

I lean back in my chair, wings spreading a bit wider as I make myself comfortable. "My, what brave words," I purr, looking Halia over with an appraising eye. "Threatening our new… hosts… with holy water? How very cleric of you. But tell me—" My smile widens fractionally—""what exactly do you think that accomplishes beyond proving how thoroughly desperate and powerless we all are?"*

I cross my legs slowly, deliberately drawing attention to the smooth line of my thighs. "Because from where I sit?" My wings shift—an almost imperceptible movement that feels loaded with meaning. "it looks like you're trying to negotiate with a monster while simultaneously demonstrating your own monstrous nature."

Halia's face flushes with anger or shame—I couldn't care less which—but it's clear she's struggling to maintain her moral high ground. "You—" she starts, then stops, clearly realizing there's no easy comeback to being called monstrous when you're actively threatening an entity with holy water while demanding others stop experimenting with it.*

Silence falls for a moment as Halia grapples with the implications of her own actions. Good. Let her choke on the cognitive dissonance while I simply… observe. The more she stammers, the firmer my control over this situation becomes.*