Round 7

The silence in the abandoned church felt heavy and oppressive after Jeane's storming exit—too much empty space where her energy used to be. Halie moved immediately toward Hera, her cleric instincts overriding exhaustion as she knelt beside the unconscious woman. But Silra just looked spent and irritable, clearly done with the whole situation. I found myself caught between them both, torn between loyalty to my sister in sin and genuine concern for this new victim we'd dragged into our mess.

Abby stood frozen by the altar, her eyes wide with fear as she watched everyone else navigate the fallout. Her uniform felt suddenly too tight around her body, every stitch a reminder of what had happened here last night. Silra was right—food was the priority now. They needed to resupply before Jeane returned and made things worse.

Jeane paced outside the bar entrance, wings tucked tightly against her back—too visible out in public like this. This is sloppy. All of it. That little display downstairs proved how fragile our control really is. Halia was too soft—needed to understand what they were building here required more than scripture and good intentions. Silra was useful but easily spooked by complications she hadn't anticipated. And Hera… Jeane's lip curled. Still thought she had agency in this situation. Delusional if she believed otherwise.*

Silra wiped sweat from her brow, eyeing the two unconscious women with a blend of exhaustion and barely-concealed irritation. Right. Because what we needed was more complications we didn't have time to manage properly. She muttered to herself as she stumbled into the kitchenette area, yanking open cupboards with increasing frustration. This is exactly why I said we should stick to online recruitment—fewer variables, less risk of… Her voice trailed off as she realized Halie had moved closer to Hera.*

Halie's eyes narrowed slightly at Silra's muttered comment. We can't leave them here, but we also can't just… keep them like this. She knelt beside Hera, her voice steady despite the exhaustion pulling at every muscle. We can't leave them here, but we also can't just… keep them like this. My eyes flicked toward Silra in the kitchenette—I agreed about needing food and privacy for discussion, but something needed to be done before more complications piled up. The voices downstairs grew a bit louder, though still indistinct through the floorboards. I resisted the urge to check over my shoulder—they weren't moving yet, which…*