Round 15 Transcript

DM smiles knowingly. Jeane and The Force finally have a moment alone together in the abandoned church. The dust motes dance in the shafts of light filtering through the high stained-glass windows, casting colorful patterns across the old stone floor. The atmosphere is thick with anticipation—both sexual and dangerous. Outside, the city noises are muffled but present—a constant reminder that this public space could be discovered at any moment.

Jeane's eyes roam over The Force's form hungrily, taking in every detail. She licks her lips unconsciously, her fingers twitching with barely contained desire. The Force stands tall and confident, fully aware of the effect they're having on Jeane—and equally eager for what comes next. Their hands are already moving to undo their shirt buttons.

The Force: "Well, Jeane? What shall we do first?"

I hear footsteps outside the church entrance—someone's approaching through the main doors we came through. The steps are uncertain, almost nervous-sounding. Probably Clarice deciding to take that tour after all.

The question is whether she's alone or brought company. If it's just her, we might have options for a controlled meet-up. If she's dragged friends or worse, we're looking at crowd control problems in the middle of a fucking public church where anyone could walk in on us.

Julia's still out there too—somewhere in the city. She might stumble back here if she gets lonely or curious about why we vanished after her little tease. Or maybe she'll get smart and call the cops for that creepy cult shit she overheard.

We're standing around with our thumbs up our asses while multiple variables converge on this location like a bad crime drama. I'm not getting any harder thinking about it, just more irritated at the lack of options.

Jeane Cromwell steps back from the church door, her wings furled tightly against her back as she surveys the street. This is hardly ideal for seduction, but needs must when the Devil drives. She turns to address her cultist companion, Clarice—you will wait here and keep watch. If anyone approaches, signal me with three slow raps on the door.

Once the woman nods obediently, Jeane slips inside the gloomy church hall, her crimson eyes scanning the pews for suitable surfaces. The dust is thick here—how long has this place been abandoned? She mutters to herself as she begins arranging candles in a rough triangle on the central table. We'll need light, and something to focus the ritual's energies. These bindings should do nicely.

Jeane retrieves a length of silk rope from her pack, trailing it across the floor as she circles the table. Come now—no sense in waiting for them to find us. She calls out, her voice carrying an unsettling purr that seems to echo unnaturally in the empty space.

As she sits upon the edge of the table, Jeane's hand absently traces patterns across her thigh, her expression a mix of anticipation and calculation. Let's see what manner of women these villagers truly are, hmm?