Round 24 Transcript

I lean forward in my chair, wings shifting with an almost imperceptible rustle. "Oh come now," I say, voice dripping with mock sympathy. "Don't tell me you're actually considering this course of action? Using holy water against our hosts? That's hardly the behavior of a cleric dedicated to—what was it again?—serving and protecting?"*

A slow smile spreads across my face as I watch Halia struggle with her conscience. "Unless, of course, you've found God down here in the depths of this hellish hotel?" I rise from my seat, moving with fluid grace across the room towards her. "Because if so, I'd love to hear how he feels about his followers threatening ancient entities with holy water while demanding others not engage in consensual activities?"

I stop just out of arm's reach, close enough for Halia to feel the heat radiating from my body—from the power contained within me. "But since I'm quite sure you haven't found divine guidance down here…" My voice drops to a purr. "Then perhaps it's time we had a little… private discussion about your role in this arrangement?"

The air around us seems to thicken, charged with unspoken possibilities as I wait for Halia's response. Meanwhile, Silra stirs from her stupor against the wall, eyes widening as she realizes what's unfolding.

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

[Hera | Civilian]
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.

The air is thick with unspoken tension as I stand facing Halia across the room. Her face is flushed with anger—or perhaps shame—and her grip on that pathetic little bottle of holy water tightens until her knuckles turn white.

I allow myself a small, cruel smile. "Oh please," I drawl, my voice dripping with disdain. "The cleric playing moral guardian? How quaint. How… predictable." My wings shift slightly behind me—a subtle reminder of the power contained in this room. "You stand there lecturing us about monstrosity while threatening our hosts and demanding we stop engaging in consensual acts?" I laugh softly. "You, who just moments ago was writhing and begging for more?"