Round 248

Hera moved through the doorway like a woman walking into her own execution. She'd seen transformations before—Jeane's slow slide toward something other had been a running narrative for weeks—but this was different. This was the monster wearing her friend's skin, eyes burning crimson and wings unfurled like accusations made manifest.

The building screamed its demands through every surface, vibrating the floorboards with need. Hera could feel it in her teeth, a low thrum that settled between her legs before she could suppress the reaction. She wasn't stupid enough to think the wetness spreading there was anything but the structure's influence.

"Jeane," she said, voice softer than she intended. The name tasted wrong in her mouth—too familiar for someone who'd grown scales and a hunger that made Hera's own desires look like childish fantasies. "We need to get you out of here." She gestured at the room, the walls bleeding color into each other, the furniture groaning under some unseen weight. "This place... it's not safe."

Movement caught her eye—Silra, still glaring at Jeane with an expression that said she'd rather fight than fuck. Hera respected that, even as part of her wondered what Silra would look like properly broken open by the building's needs. Focus. She needed to focus.

Jeane wasn't listening, eyes locked on Halie with a desperation that made Hera's stomach twist. The older woman was trying to mediate, playing peacemaker while their friend turned into something that belonged in nightmares. Useless. Halie had always been useless when it mattered most.

Forty minutes. The estimated time until structural failure had come and gone hours ago. Now they were working on borrowed time, held together by desperation and the thin thread of Hera's engineering skills.

She moved closer to Jeane, ignoring the way her skin prickled with awareness. "We can figure this out," she lied, because what else could she say? The truth—that Jeane was lost to them, that the building had won—wasn't something any of them needed right now. "But first, we need to get you somewhere safe." Somewhere safe didn't exist in this hellscape, but saying it made her feel like she was still in control.

Jeane's wings flexed, the movement jerky and uncontrolled. The sight sent a jolt of fear through Hera—fear and something else she refused to name. She glanced at Silra again, wondering if the other woman felt it too—the twisted thrill of watching someone fall apart so spectacularly.

"We can't stay here," Hera said firmly, though her eyes kept drifting back to Jeane's exposed throat, the pulse visible there despite the cold temperature. "The structure's going to fail completely any minute." Another lie—she'd reinforced enough of the load-bearing walls that they had maybe an hour left before total collapse—but panic was contagious and she needed everyone functional.

She moved toward the door, gesturing for the others to follow. "Come on. We'll find somewhere more... stable." Somewhere more stable didn't exist either, not when the entire building was alive with hunger. But moving felt better than standing there, watching Jeane become something that would eat them all if given half a chance.

The hallway outside was no safer—walls sweating condensation that tasted like sex and desperation—but at least it wasn't actively trying to feed on her sanity. Yet.