Round 40

The room’s tension had snapped taut like a bowstring drawn back too far, every nerve ending screaming with the strain of holding such pressure. Halia stood there, her face flushed red not just with anger but with the humiliation of having her most private concerns dismissed so casually in front of everyone present—especially Silra, who lay slumped against the wall, thoroughly used and gaping open in a way that was both obscene and somehow arousing.

Jeane had turned fully toward Halia now, her wings shifting to frame her body in an intimidating display of power. The movement drew everyone's attention—especially Hera's—to the impressive span of those dark, leathery appendages. "Equals?" she repeated, her tone dripping with mocking amusement. "Oh please. You're a cleric who can't even manage to satisfy her own needs without whining about it." The words were cruel but delivered with such casual confidence that they landed like physical blows.

Halia's face flushed redder still, not just with anger now but with the mortification of having her deepest insecurities laid bare for all to see. "I'm not—" she started, but Jeane cut her off with a dismissive wave of her hand. "If you're so both...