Round 49

Silra crept down the stairs like a shadow given physical form—her blade held low, pointed elven ears twitching for any sound of approaching trouble. The basement air still hung thick with the mingled scents of sex and desperation, though the night's activities had long since ended. She moved with fluid silence born from years of urban survival, each footfall finding purchase on ancient stone without a creak. Her teal eyes scanned the darkness above, cataloging every shift of light across the women's skin—details that could prove useful… or dangerously incriminating.

Jeane stood at the top of the stairs, nude save for her silver necklace glinting in stray sunlight. Her crimson eyes were fixed on the stairwell above, calculating angles and distances. Too slow, she thought, letting binding components dissipate uselessly. Magic took time they didn't have. The blonde upstairs was awake now—her teal gaze flicked to Silra's drawn blade, then back up the stairs. "Two civilians," Jeane murmured, barely audible. "Post-coital evidence everywhere."