Round 172

Jeane's shield magic flickered with desperate urgency, its pale blue light dimming to near transparency before flaring back to life with obvious strain. Her teeth chattered so violently she could barely form words. "This... this was your brilliant tactical maneuver!" she managed between shudders, directing a glare at Silra that would have curdled milk. "I'm freezing my tits off here—literally—and that coolant system is..."

Silra pulled Jeane closer, her body shaking against hers with violent tremors—hypothermia's got a death grip on her now. "You're right," she admitted reluctantly, "this is fucking humiliating." The cold water soaked through her clothes and into her skin like liquid ice; even the thin layer of her own shirt between them provided barely any insulation. Her arms wrapped around Jeane automatically—survival instinct overriding discomfort.