Round 15 Transcript

Silra sets her tools down carefully around the sybian frame. She taps different sections of the metal housing with a small hammer, listening for resonance. "Jeane's right—this thing wasn't built for dual occupancy. The motor mounts are already stressed from one rider." She looks up at Hera standing nearby. "If we're going to meet the building's demands, we need it structurally sound first. No point in being 'together' if we end up with a broken toy or worse."

She pulls out a small tube of lubricant, but instead of using it as intended, she begins squeezing it along the stressed mounts and joints, creating improvised structural supports. The clear fluid pools and seeps into the mechanical crevices. "This should help distribute weight better. But we need to test it carefully."

Her eyes flick to Jeane, then back to Hera. "Here's a suggestion—Jeane weighs more than any of us humans. If she can use this safely, then we know it's structurally sound for all of us." She pauses, choosing her words carefully. "And if you're comfortable with that level of... proximity... then we satisfy the 'togetherness' requirement without turning our private activities into a public spectacle."

Silra stands, wiping lubricant from her hands onto a clean cloth. Her voice is practical, almost business-like. "I don't mind helping you test it, Hera. But I'm not performing for an audience—building or otherwise."

I crouch down beside the dismantled sybian frame, tracing its internal structure with a clawed finger. The mechanical guts are more substantial than I expected—Silra’s doing, no doubt. I look up at her, my voice cool and measured. "I appreciate the engineering work," I say, "but we need to test this thing properly before anyone sits on it." I stand, circling the frame slowly. "And if it can handle both of us, then the building will get its 'togetherness' without turning into some kind of public show."

Silra meets my gaze, her expression skeptical. Halie shifts nervously nearby—she’s always been squeamish about these things unless properly framed as holy duty or something equally absurd. "Halie," I say, turning to face the Cleric directly, "perhaps you could offer a blessing on Silra’s repairs? For structural integrity and... mutual support between sisters in arms?" I let the words hang with deliberate ambiguity.