Round 17 Transcript

Jeane unfurls her wings slowly, deliberately, knowing the sight is hypnotic. Her voice drops to a purr. Sweet Abby, your friend's overreacting. Nobody's forcing anything—we're all here because we want to be. She edges closer, close enough for scent and warmth to register. Fear tastes terrible on you. Let me help you find something better. To Hera at the door: Don't let her spoil your fun. Silra's got a thing against my kind—personal issues she won't admit. We've been having a lovely time downstairs without incident. Come see for yourself, or we could start our own private party right here. She winks.

Silra circles the threshold, eyes scanning the opulent room beyond—the kind of setup designed for maximum distraction. The girl Abby looks like she's about to bolt, which is the last thing this operation needs. 'Alright, Hera,' she says, voice dry, 'either commit or don't. But if you're going to waffle, do it outside where we can actually plan this circus properly.'

I hesitate at the threshold, torn between the allure of pleasure and the unease Silra's warning has stirred within me. I glance back at Abby, seeking some shared understanding or reassurance before I take this step into the unknown.