Round 45 Transcript

Silra's blade remains 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 shifts subtly, no longer defensive but anticipatory—she's not backing down, she's waiting for proof.

Jeane Cromwell's gaze shifts from Silra's blade to Abby's trembling form with predatory precision. Her voice emerges smooth as honey laced with venom, each word a calculated note of reassurance aimed at Hera. "Hera darling," Jeane purrs, her wings folding slowly behind her back in what could be interpreted as a gesture of peace or simply the casual display of a predator showing it has no immediate intent to strike. "Abby is perfectly safe with me. Look at those sweet little horns—does that truly suggest monstrosity?" She glides closer, not quite stepping into Silra's defensive arc but close enough for her perfume to carry its subtle lure across the space between them. "Silra dearest," Jeane acknowledges the blade with a nod so slight it might be missed. "Your concern is touching, truly, but misplaced." Her eyes fix on Abby once more, and though her smile remains fixed, there's an intensity behind it that speaks of barely restrained hunger. "Abby simply requires... guidance. Don't we all from time to time?" Jeane's hand extends palm-up in invitation toward Hera and Silra both—a gesture of openness they can interpret however they wish. "Join us," she suggests softly, the words hanging in the air like temptation itself. "I promise you'll find it enlightening." Her eyes flick briefly to Abby again, a silent promise that speaks volumes about the rewards awaiting those brave enough to accept her offer.