Round 119

Halie positioned herself between Silra and Jeane, a living barrier against escalating tension. The cleric's blue-grey eyes were steady despite the building's groans that had deepened into something disturbingly like moans. She wasn't fooling herself—the air was thick with pheromones, making her skin prickle and her thoughts drift toward inappropriate images she ruthlessly suppressed.

"You can wait," Halie said firmly to Jeane, though her voice wavered slightly. "We stand with you until this is done, but we don't compromise our integrity in the process." She glanced at the clock, then back to Silra's focused work. Time mattered, yes—she could feel the pressure building like a physical weight—but forcing things wouldn't help anyone. Especially not Silra, who needed clear heads and steady hands, not... whatever this was.

Abby watched Silra work with growing admiration mixed with anxiety. The engineer moved with such precision, her hands steady even as the building around them seemed to pulse with need. Abby could feel it too, a restless energy under her skin that made her want to fidget or pace or... something. She pressed her palms flat against the workbench instead, grounding herself.

Is this normal? she whispered to no one in particular, her eyes darting between Silra's concentrated expression and Jeane's obvious discomfort. What kind of building demanded sex for its satisfaction anyway? And why did it feel like they were all being slowly turned inside out by pheromones?

The clock ticked on, each second a reminder that time was running out. How long could they resist before the consequences became... unspeakable?