Round 142

Silra’s fingers moved with practiced precision, tracing intricate patterns against the small of Jeane’s back that fed stability into the magical fields containing Hera. Her voice carried an edge of barely-suppressed irritation, though her expression remained neutral. “This is exactly what I warned you wouldn’t be able to handle,” she said, each word measured and cool. She kept one palm flat against Jeane’s spine, anchoring the more powerful woman even as her other hand continued the subtle dance of spellwork that kept the containment stable.

The barrier hummed with renewed strength for several seconds—then began to strain again. Sweat beaded on Jeane’s forehead despite the room’s temperature, and Silra noticed the way her breasts seemed to swell slightly with each labored breath. She recognized the signs: overtaxed magic, arousal feeding back into the spellwork in dangerous ways. “You’re pushing too hard,” she said quietly, more statement than warning. “Let me take point on this.”