Round 7

Halie's voice shakes as she steps between Silra and the stairs, her blue-grey eyes wide with fear and determination. We can't do this. Not here, not like this. She meets Silra's steady gaze despite the terror tightening her chest. Murder is wrong—you know that as well as I do. This church may be abandoned to us now, but it was consecrated ground once. The very act of violence would taint what we're trying to build here. Halie's fingers clench around her holy symbol, drawing strength from its familiar shape. There has to be a...

Silra pauses mid-step, her teal eyes narrowing as she considers Halie's words. She lowers the blade but doesn't sheath it completely—a compromise between urgency and respect for the cleric's beliefs. I hear you, Halie. But we need to think this through logically. She gestures toward the stairs with her free hand, voice dropping to a near-whisper. Those two up there? They're not just witnesses anymore—they're active participants who helped us break in last night. If they wake and start screaming, every neighbor within earshot will know something's happening here. And once authorities arrive? Our whole operation is compromised.

Jeane descends the stairs slowly into the sanctuary, each footfall deliberate despite the exhaustion pulling at her limbs. Morning light through stained glass cast shifting patterns across the dusty floor, transforming the air into a kaleidoscope of color. Two women lay sprawled on the front pew—one stirring groggily, the other still deeply unconscious. The silence felt fragile, ready to shatter at any sudden movement or careless sound. Silra moves past me toward the stairs with predatory focus, her silver-blonde hair catching the light as she glances back over her shoulder.

Abby blinks awake at Hera's sudden movement, her head still heavy from the previous night's activities. The morning light is disorienting after being underground so long. She sits up slowly, rubbing her eyes and trying to get her bearings. The sight of Silra standing by the stairs with that knife glinting in her hand sends a jolt of pure fear through Abby’s body. Her gaze darts around the dusty sanctuary, taking in the strange scene—Hera half-dressed beside her, Halie and Jeane looking on with expressions she can't quite read. What's happening? Where are we?