Round 85

Silra moves with calculated nonchalance toward where Halia knelt praying, her teal eyes scanning the room's shifting dynamics even as she projects an air of casual compliance. The magical energies swirling visibly now—Jeane's spell backfiring spectacularly into a vortex of residual lust and chaos that makes the very air taste wrong—were exactly what she'd feared when the sorceress insisted on "controlling" things. Fucking amateurs and their grandstanding.

The soldiers are getting twitchy, hands drifting toward weapons or crotches indiscriminately as the ambient magic seeped into them. One particularly burly specimen had his hand wrapped around his dick through his pants while still holding a rifle in the other—useful for shooting, less so for aiming accurately. The enhanced female operative advancing on Jeane with taser raised was more concerning though—the woman moved like she'd been trained to neutralize threats efficiently rather than hesitate.

Ms. Stone had backed against the wall near the hidden door, looking ready to abandon everyone if things went sideways. And then those two robed figures emerged from the shadows—identical twins with glowing symbols on their skin and eyes that seemed to see right through the situation to whatever lay beneath it all. The soldiers tensed further at their appearance, clearly recognizing a threat level they hadn't anticipated.

This was spiraling out of control faster than she'd predicted—and Silra hated losing control more than anything else in this fucked-up world.