Round 91

Silra's fingers moved with practiced precision over the sybian machine, each adjustment a small victory against the building's insatiable hunger. The room hummed around them, a constant reminder of the task at hand—find a solution that didn't involve bending to its perverse demands. She could feel the weight of expectation in Jeane's restless pacing, see it in the way her wings twitched with barely contained impatience.

But Halie's steady presence beside her was a balm, a reminder that they weren't alone in this. The cleric's words echoed in her mind—"We're making progress here"—and Silra clung to them like a lifeline. This wasn't just about satisfying some architectural fetish; it was about maintaining their dignity, finding a way out that didn't involve succumbing to the building's twisted desires.

She glanced up as Abby approached, the civilian's wide brown eyes reflecting both fascination and unease. It made sense—the situation was bizarre, even for them. But there was something almost comforting in Abby's presence, a grounding reminder of normalcy amidst the madness.