Round 8 Transcript

The wind picks up suddenly, whipping around the outside woman's skirt and making her stumble slightly. Her grip on the phone loosens just enough for a moment. Behind Jeane, Halie seizes the opportunity without hesitation—she draws something from inside her cloak with a swift motion. It's not pepper spray after all; it's a small bottle of holy water blessed during her cleric training. She whispers an incantation under her breath and tosses the contents in a high arc toward the doorway. The liquid catches the sunlight as it flies, sparkling dramatically before splashing across the stone threshold with a sound like rain on leaves.

The wind carries her voice back into the church as Jeane Cromwell watches the woman outside clutching her phone. This isn't a negotiation—I won't be cowed in my own sanctuary by some prying busybody. She steps forward, wings spreading wide despite Silra's warning look—bold defiance fueled by genuine anger at the intrusion. You want to see power? I'll give you a demonstration you won't forget. Jeane raises both hands, dark energy crackling between her fingertips as she channels her frustration into magic. The air grows heavy with static electricity that smells of ozone and brimstone. Her crimson eyes glow faintly in the gloom. Come inside willingly and maybe we can come to some mutually beneficial arrangement—tell your story and walk away enriched beyond measure. Resist... She lets the threat hang, half promise and half warning.*

Inside, her heart pounds with adrenaline—but this is controlled now, calculated rather than impulsive rage. The woman outside still hasn't moved toward her phone's emergency services; that thumb hovers uncertainly. Good. She's curious enough to want more information before fully panicking. Halie's right—I should be cautious, but I need her inside where we control the environment and narrative. And if this goes wrong, at least I'll have given our guest something worth talking about—something too strange for mundane authorities to handle effectively. Jeane keeps her magic crackling visibly while maintaining a tight leash on it—enough spectacle to impress or intimidate without actually harming anyone. Last chance to enter like a civilized person, she calls out, before I decide this church needs a new door policy.

I step between Jeane and the doorway, lowering my voice but making it carry. Enough, I say firmly. This isn't negotiation—it's exposure. You're inviting catastrophe and giving her all the evidence she needs. My eyes flick to the woman outside—the phone is 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. To Silra—I can see her unease but also her tactical mind working. 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, I feel 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. I turn back to the woman outside, keeping my 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. But privately—I need to regain control of this situation before it spirals completely out of hand. Jeane's impulsiveness is putting everything at risk, and Silra's already planning escape routes—that should tell me just how precarious we've become in a single miscalculated moment. I have to get that woman inside where I can use my training to de-escalate properly, away from prying eyes and recording devices.