Round 3

Silra moved between Jeane and Hera without conscious thought—rogue instincts kicking in to shield the younger woman from escalating violence. The elf raised his hands defensively as he met Jeane's crimson gaze with his bright teal ones. "Whoa now," he said, voice steady despite the crackling dark energy at her fingertips. "Let’s all just take a breath here." The succubus' wings unfurled with a leathery rasp that echoed through the defiled sanctuary as she hissed at him: “Stay out of this.”

Jeane released Hera only to grab her shirt instead—tearing the fabric apart until pale skin was exposed. "You’re mine now," she growled, leaning in close enough for Hera to feel demonic heat radiating off her body. "Every inch of you belongs to me." Silra’s fingers twitched toward hidden blade sheaths but held back—something about Jeane’s rage felt deeper than simple sexual frustration. The elf chose his words carefully: “Jeane, we all want what’s best for our arrangement here,” he said softly.

Behind them both, Halie finally found her voice—though it came out as more of a strangled squeak than actual speech. “What the fuck is happening right now?” Jeane visibly reined in her temper then, stepping back from Hera with obvious effort before shoving the younger woman away and stalking toward the choir loft above. Silra remained frozen midway between them until he was sure she had disappeared into darkness—body still coiled for action while bright teal eyes tracked every movement.

Only when the succubus vanished did he relax fractionally, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. His gaze shifted to Hera kneeling on the floor nearby—silver-blonde hair disheveled from being manhandled, pale skin marked by finger-shaped bruises already darkening across her throat and chest. “You okay?” Silra asked softly, extending a hand down toward the younger woman while keeping his attention split between Hera and the darkness above where Jeane had vanished.

Hera accepted his offered hand and allowed herself to be pulled upright—though whether she was physically or emotionally okay remained ambiguous from her silence. The younger woman’s pale skin seemed to lose what little color it had left at Silra’s unspoken warning about Jeane’s genuine desire for harm. When Hera finally did manage a response, her voice came out barely above a whisper: “What... what do you mean?”

Silra glanced over his shoulder toward where Jeane had disappeared upstairs before replying in kind—his words measured and controlled despite visible tension. “I mean that our dear sister up there has some serious issues she hasn’t dealt with,” he explained grimly. “The demonic energy we’ve been... indulging in lately? It’s not just about sex anymore for her. She’s getting off on the power trip, the control—especially over humans.” Hera's pale skin seemed to lose what little color it had left at those words—her blue eyes widening as she processed the implications of Silra’s warning.

The younger woman opened her mouth as if to speak, then closed it again without producing sound while visibly swallowing hard. When she finally did manage a response, her voice came out barely above a whisper: “What... what do you mean?”