Round 87

Silra studied the shimmering barrier with a cool, calculating gaze, her teal eyes sharp despite the heat prickling across her skin. The faint scent of ozone hung heavy in the air, mingling with the lingering perfume of sex and sweat from earlier adventures. Hera's stubborn glare held no surprises—she'd seen that look on half a dozen brutes twice as dumb before this moment.

"Not thinking clearly," Silra said to the warrior woman flatly, her voice barely above a whisper. "This tunnel is compromised, which makes it stupid to go alone." Her eyes flicked to the bottle of lubricant clutched in Hera's hand like a talisman, then back to Jeane's wing tips, sparking with dangerous electricity mere inches apart. The elf technomancer knew better than most how quickly such power could spiral out of control.

She took a measured step forward, close enough for the barrier's heat to warm her face but not close enough to touch it. "Let me scout first," Silra offered, her tone carefully neutral. "I can map the tunnel's instability without putting us all at risk." Behind her, she could feel Jeane's possessive gaze boring into Hera, and knew the time for careful diplomacy was running thin.