Round 201

Silra moves with practiced efficiency, her teal eyes scanning the room beyond the door with methodical precision. The soft hum of active heating systems fills the air, and she spots a bank of thermal units along one wall, their soft blue lights casting an eerie glow over everything. She moves closer, her pointed ears straining for any sound of occupancy, fingers already moving in silent communication as she maps the space in her mind. Jeane follows close behind, her crimson eyes fixed on the doorway and the catwalk beyond. Her grip on Silra's belt tightens instinctively—her demonic instincts screaming warnings even as her shield magic sputters dangerously, dropping below 30% efficiency again. The cold air of the maintenance tunnel bites into her exposed skin like teeth, and she shivers violently despite maintaining proximity to Silra's warmer body. That device better work before my magic collapses completely and turns this whole maintenance area into magical ice sculpture, she hisses under her breath, voice dropping into that dangerous purr that always makes Silra's pointed ears twitch.