Round 7 Transcript

The woman outside shifts her weight from foot to foot—clearly torn between curiosity and common sense. Her thumb hovers over the emergency services button. You're... you're naked, she calls out, voice shaking slightly, with wings? What kind of cult is this? She takes a small step back but doesn't lower her phone. I should call the police. Behind Jeane in the church doorway, Halie's expression remains unyielding despite the tension. She steps closer and murmurs, If she calls now, we lose control completely. Every squad car in the city will descend on this place before we can explain anything. Her fingers tighten around the pepper spray—ready but hoping it won't be necessary. Let me handle this, Jeane. You're too emotional right now. Silra moves to flank Halie, her rogue's instincts screaming at every second ticking by. We need a distraction, she hisses, something loud enough to make her hesitate before she completes that call. Her eyes scan the street for anything usable—trash cans, loose stones, even a nearby car alarm.

Inside the church proper, Hera pokes her head back around the corner with wide eyes. I can drop something heavy from upstairs! she offers, like the big statue in the main room? It'll sound like someone fell down the stairs! Abby presses closer to Jeane's winged back, her voice barely audible. What if she has a weapon? Shouldn't we be thinking about escape instead of confrontation? The woman outside takes another small step back—her thumb moving fractionally toward the call button. I'm serious, she shouts, put some clothes on and come out with your hands visible! This is private property and you're trespassing! Jeane's wings twitch in irritation, but before she can respond Halie steps forward with practiced calm. Sister, she calls out, voice carrying authority and reason, we mean no harm to this neighborhood. We're simply... reimagining this abandoned space for something beautiful. *A sudden gust of wind catches the woman's skirt,"-"

Hera's heart pounds as she watches Jeane confronting the woman outside. Every instinct screams at her to run, hide, do anything but stand here exposed. But Halie is right - they need to control this narrative before it spirals out of their grasp entirely. With a deep breath, Hera steps forward and addresses the woman's concerns directly. "Please, ma'am," she says, hands raised in a placating gesture, "we understand this looks unusual. But we assure you, no harm is meant for anyone here." She risks a glance at Jeane, trying to project confidence she doesn't feel. "If you'd like to come inside and talk, we can explain everything more calmly. No need for the police."

Hera's mind races as she speaks, considering their options if this goes badly. Silra's suggestion of creating a distraction has merit - they could use that moment to slip out the back, minimize potential evidence. But running feels cowardly and risky too. If anyone recognizes them leaving together in such numbers... No. They have to try to resolve this peacefully first. Hera straightens her shoulders, preparing to support whatever Halie suggests next as she tries to keep her expression open and non-threatening for their wary visitor.

Abby stands frozen beside Jeane, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. The woman outside looks furious, but it's the look on her own face that terrifies Abby more—pure, unadulterated shock. This isn't how it was supposed to go at all.
She wants to scream for them to run, to get out of this place before it all falls apart. The thought of being arrested, of having her life exposed in some tabloid scandal, makes her stomach clench with fear. But then she sees the way Halie is standing—calm, confident, almost daring the woman to make a move—and something deep inside Abby stirs. A flicker of what drew her here in the first place.
Abby's eyes dart between Jeane and the woman outside, her mind racing. She knows she should be terrified, that this could end badly for all of them. But there’s also an undeniable thrill running through her veins—this is dangerous, yes, but it’s also exhilarating in a way she never dared to feel before.
As Hera steps forward and begins speaking, Abby feels a pang of admiration for the other woman's bravery. Her own voice catches in her throat when she tries to offer support, coming out as little more than a squeak. She hates how weak she sounds, how easily she crumbles under pressure. She takes a small step closer to Jeane, seeking some of that sorcerer's fearless energy. Abby knows she’s just a civilian, but right now, standing here with these women, she feels part of something bigger than herself—something dark and powerful and terrifyingly beautiful.*

Jeane’s crimson eyes narrow dangerously at Silra’s warning—her trusted friend, the one person whose judgment she values almost as much as her own lust for power. But this isn’t about judgment; it’s about survival. She's got a phone out recording us right now, Jeane hisses back through gritted teeth. If I back down and scurry inside like a frightened mouse, she’ll absolutely call every cop within a ten-mile radius before we can talk her down. We need to project confidence, own this space. Her wings unfurl with a leathery rustle, not for intimidation exactly—though that's certainly an effect—but more as an unconscious display of her nature. Halie means well with the pragmatism, but sometimes boldness is its own form of control. She considers the woman outside, thumb hovering over emergency services. We need to flip this script before she does. Make her think we're not worth bothering with—too strange, too powerful, or too insane to be worth the police report. To Hera in the shadows, If she moves toward the door, make noise downstairs. Something loud enough to suggest we're not alone up here—we need her thinking twice about barging in. She glances at Abby pressed against her winged back. You stay close but ready to move. If things go south fast, I'll signal with my wings—then you run for the back exit and get the car ready. Jeane takes a deep breath, forcing calm through her veins despite the adrenaline surge. Beautiful day for a visit to such a historic church, she calls out in a voice dripping with false sweetness that can just barely be heard over the wind, and such beautiful neighbors too! Won't you come closer? There's so much more to see inside than out here on this... rather boring street.

Halie steps between Jeane and the doorway, her expression grave. Enough, she says, voice low but firm. This isn't negotiation, this is exposure. You're inviting catastrophe and giving her all the evidence she needs. Her eyes flick to the woman outside—she's still recording, thumb hovering over emergency services. If you want to intimidate, do it inside where we control the narrative. Standing here naked with wings visible from the street is exactly what gets us arrested. To Hera in the hallway, Get downstairs and make noise if she tries the door. Something loud enough to suggest we're not alone up here. She glances at Silra—her friend looks equally unhappy with this situation but says nothing. Probably because she knows Halie's right and voicing agreement would be redundant. If we're doing this, we do it smart. Jeane can play her role once the woman is actually inside where we control access and witnesses. Inside, Halie feels a dark satisfaction building despite the risk—Jeane's boldness is terrifying but also thrilling. Let me handle this, Jeane. You're too emotional right now. She turns back to the woman outside, keeping her tone measured and calm,* Sister, we understand your concerns. Please come inside so we can speak face-to-face instead of shouting across a street. We mean no harm to anyone here—just... rediscovering this abandoned space for something beautiful.

Silra shifts her weight, hand resting near the small of her back where she keeps a concealed knife. This is getting messy fast. She eyes Jeane's display—bold but stupid—and Halie's attempt to regain control—too little, too late. That woman outside isn't going anywhere until she gets what she wants, and right now that's a story worth money or at least internet clicks. To Halie, If we're bringing her inside, we need contingencies. I can rig the downstairs door to jam if she tries to leave quickly—buy us time to... persuade her to see things our way. She doesn't say 'threaten' but lets the implication hang. Also, someone needs to check the perimeter for more witnesses or early morning dog-walkers. That's my job if we're doing this properly. Silra moves toward the stairs, already planning escape routes and choke points. And Jeane? She turns back with a pointed look. Your wings look impressive but they're also giving us away to anyone who cares enough to investigate. If this goes sideways, I'll create a diversion—you grab Abby and get out through the side door while Halie and Hera keep our guest occupied downstairs. Before anyone can object or agree, she's already moving toward the stairs, Because if we're doing this, we do it with exit strategies in place. No heroics, no stupid gambits, just practical solutions to a problem we created ourselves.