Round 32

The morning light bled through stained glass high above, painting the basement in shifting patterns of color and shadow. The air hung thick with the mingled scents of sex and old stone—a testament to the night's activities that could prove dangerous now.

Silra descended carefully behind her, a wicked dagger held ready in one hand—its edge catching stray light despite her attempts to keep it shadowed against her thigh. Every protesting groan from the ancient wood felt like an alarm bell to the elf's sensitive ears; two civilians stirring awake upstairs meant potential witnesses, evidence scattered everywhere that could send them all to prison for far more than trespassing.

Her teal eyes tracked every flicker of light across the sleeping women's skin—cataloging details that might prove useful later… or damning. The binding spell's threads pulsed silver along ceiling joists—silence ensured if panic held. Two civilians awake upstairs now—the blonde stirring earlier than expected. Post-coital evidence everywhere. Too much to charm away with proximity alone.

Magic required time she didn't have. Silra wanted blades drawn—Halie resisted, citing faith.