Round 45

Silra's blade remained steady between Jeane and Abby, her eyes calculating the demonic features. You say you're not a monster, but how do I know those wings aren't for snatching prey? Her stance shifted subtly, no longer defensive but anticipatory—she wasn't backing down, she was waiting for proof.

Jeane's gaze shifted from Silra's blade to Abby's trembling form with predatory precision. Her voice emerged smooth as honey laced with venom, each word a calculated note of reassurance aimed at Hera. My dear Hera, always the voice of reason in chaos, she purred, her wings shifting slightly in what could be interpreted as a gesture of peace or simply the casual display of a predator showing it had no immediate intent to strike. Very well then, let us have this conversation like civilized beings. What would you like to know?

Silra snorted derisively. Civilized? That's a hell of a way to put it when you're showing up with demon wings and trying to charm our friend here. She jerked her head toward Abby, who was still pressed against the wall like she wished it could absorb her entirely.

Abby whimpered softly, her eyes wide and unfocused. J-Jeane? What... what are you?

Jeane's expression softened as she turned to face Abby fully, her wings folding closer to her body in a gesture that seemed almost protective. Oh, my sweet Abby. I'm exactly who I've always claimed to be—just... more than you knew.

Silra sneered. More? Try a hell of a lot more dangerous than we bargained for!

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