Round 8

The tall dark-haired woman's approach sends a jolt of electricity through Hera's veins, her heart pounding in her chest as she takes in the unfamiliar faces and atmosphere. The woman's predatory gleam and seductive grace make it clear this is no ordinary party. "I'm Hera," she manages to say, her voice barely above a whisper, "I think I might have gotten lost." The woman's lips curl into a knowing smile as she reaches out to trail a finger along Hera's jawline. "Well, aren't you just the most deliciou...

Jeane turns her back on Silra's aggression deliberately, letting her have the defensive stance she craves. Her wings shift, settling into a display of casual power rather than threat. She focuses entirely on the tall dark-haired woman who just joined their little gathering—this 'Hera.' Her gaze travels over Hera hungrily, appreciating the curves barely contained by that modest dress. "Welcome," she purrs, her voice dripping with invitation, "to my humble abode." She steps closer, close enough for Hera to feel the...

Jeane turns her back on Silra's aggression deliberately, letting her have the defensive stance she craves. Her wings shift, settling into a display of casual power rather than threat. She focuses entirely on the tall dark-haired woman who just joined their little gathering—this 'Hera.' Her gaze travels over Hera hungrily, appreciating the curves barely contained by that modest dress. "Welcome," she purrs, her voice dripping with invitation, "to my humble abade..." Jeane's words trail off as she catches a glimpse of Silra's hand still resting casually on her dagger hilt. She pauses mid-sentence, her wings shifting subtly as she reassesses the situation. The rogue's alert posture and visible weapon make it clear she remains a potential threat that must be managed carefully.