Round 97 Transcript

As Silra wedges the metal pipe under the door handle, the sound of the wardstone's energy surges, and the air vibrates with an otherworldly hum. The pipe holds, but only for a moment, before the wardstone's pulse intensifies, causing the pipe to creak ominously. Abby grabs the nearly full bottle of lubricant that Silra shoved under the door, and she begins to frantically shove it back under the door, desperate to maintain the seal. The water from the busted shower stall continues to pool around their feet, making every step a treacherous one. As the wardstone's energy continues to build, Jeane grabs Abby's arm, her eyes locked on Silra's face. "We need to focus our energy now," she warns, her voice urgent. The floor shudders beneath their feet, and the sound of the structural collapse grows louder. Immediate consequence: The wardstone's pulse is now strong enough to cause the pipe to break, potentially sealing them all in the bathroom.

The wardstone pulses again—harder this time—as Hera braces the mirror against the door frame. The whole structure groans like a beast waking from slumber. "Everyone back away!" I snap. "It's feeding on your fear, and especially... other things." My demonic nature flares beneath my skin, responding to the ambient energy in ways that make me want to either fight or fuck—and there's no good outlet for either here. The bathroom floor is slick with water from the busted shower and something else I'd rather not identify as lubricant spills. Silra's searching for leverage points on the door while Halie prays uselessly—wardstones don't give a shit about divine intervention, they care about life force and... other fluids. The thought makes my wings twitch involuntarily under my cloak. "We need to focus its attention somewhere specific," I mutter more to myself than anyone else. "Abby—find me the biggest toy in here. Something with... presence." My gaze lingers on Hera crouched by the door, her exhaustion obvious even through fear. "And Silra—if that pipe gives way again, we're all buried under rubble."

The wardstone pulses again, slower this time, like it's savoring our predicament before delivering the fatal blow. My magic crackles at my fingertips—not from spell preparation but from barely-contained demonic energy that wants out. "This isn't working," Hera whimpers, her eyes wide and terrified. "The mirror won't hold—"

"It will hold if you shut up and brace it properly!" I snarl before softening my tone with effort. "Hera, look at me. You're doing fine. Just... keep pressing against it." My words come out gentler than intended—I hate seeing her like this, fragile and frightened. I glance around the room: water pooling, slick floor, dark corridor beyond that door, wardstone energy building to explosive levels. We need a distraction—something to focus its attention away from our terror and toward... something else entirely. "Abby," I say, forcing my voice into command mode despite how my wings are straining against the cloak, "find me that dildo. Now."

The mirror is already groaning under pressure. The pipe I wedged isn't enough—it's going to bend with the next pulse. We need something more substantial, or we're through. Jeane, your demon blood might be making things worse. That wardstone can probably taste it in the air. We don't have time for distractions. The building is coming down around us. I'm not interested in playing with toys while we wait to die. If you need to focus your energy, fine—do what you need to do—but make it quick and quiet. We need to think past this immediate mess.

I crouch down beside Hera, my heart hammering against my ribs as I watch her struggle with the heavy pipe she's using to brace the door. The sound of the wardstone’s energy is like a pulse, beating in time with my own frantic heart. It feels alive, aware of our presence, and it terrifies me. Jeane is right—it’s responding to something, some kind of life force. And I know what she meant about female arousal being particularly potent for this thing.
Hera grunts with effort as she wedges the pipe more firmly under the door handle. The wood groans ominously, and a fresh wave of water sloshes out from the broken shower stall behind me. - Hera, what are we going to do? - I ask, my voice so low it’s almost inaudible over the noise. My eyes dart between her determined face and the dark gap under the door, where I can feel the malevolent presence of the wardstone pressing back against us.
Jeane's warning about her demonic side losing control echoes in my mind, a chilling counterpoint to the heat building inside me. A part of me wants to run, to get as far away from this thing as possible. But another part, the darker part I try so hard to keep hidden even from myself, feels an undeniable thrill at being this close to such raw, ancient power.*