Round 164

The room's temperature continues to plummet as Jeane struggles to maintain her shield magic, teeth chattering violently with each shiver. She pulls Silra's discarded jacket over her shoulders, the damp fabric offering negligible insulation but any warmth is better than nothing in this freezing hellscape. Her long white hair hangs in icy strands around her face, and her crimson eyes are wide with growing panic as she feels the magic stuttering.

"You mess this up and they call for backup before we're out of here," Jeane manages through clenched jaws, voice barely above a whisper. "I can't maintain this shield if my core temperature drops another ten degrees." She clutches at the jacket desperately, focusing every ounce of will into keeping the magical barrier intact despite the flickers and stutters threatening to collapse it completely.

Silra moves toward the junction box with practiced efficiency, her silver-blonde hair catching what little light remains as she crouches beside the open panel. The elf woman's teal eyes scan the circuit board critically before she begins inserting small tools into various connectors. "I'm not messing anything up," she mutters without looking up. "This is the only way to keep them blind and deaf long enough for us to get out."

The temperature continues to drop, and Jeane's fingers are going numb inside her makeshift sleeve of jacket fabric. She knows she needs real heat soon—either from an external source or through Silra's unique 'treatment' method—or her control over the shield will fail completely. But asking for that kind of help feels like admitting defeat somehow, like giving in to exactly what the entity wanted when it forced them into this situation.

"Just... hurry," she gasps, another violent shiver wracking her frame. The magical barrier flickers again, and for a terrifying moment she thinks it might collapse entirely. She forces more will into it, holding the structure together through sheer determination alone.