Round 36

Jeane's smile widens fractionally as she watches Silra step out from behind her human shields, a genuine expression of dark amusement crossing her features. The elf confronting her head-on like this is… unexpected. Most mortals cower or fall prey too quickly to resist temptation. This one has backbone.

"Love poem?" She repeats, letting the words roll off her tongue as if tasting them. "My dear Silra, binding is no mere verse—it's a pact in flesh and soul." Her wings fold back against her spine with fluid grace, the leathery membranes rustling softly. The movement draws attention to her voluptuous form, curves accentuated by the tight black leather that leaves little to imagination.

"Smart girl," she purrs, approval evident in her crimson gaze as she appraises Silra's skeptical expression. "Demons don't gift power without demanding something in return. So tell me—what exactly are you offering? And more importantly, what do you want from me?" Her eyes narrow slightly, a predator evaluating prey.

Jeane's smile doesn't falter, but something shifts in her crimson gaze—a flicker of respect perhaps. "Smart girl," she purrs, letting the words drip with seductive intent.