Round 9

The wind carried more than just noise through the doorway—it brought an unexpected opportunity. Jeane stood frozen in the threshold, wings spread wide like some dark avenging angel, fingers crackling with forbidden energy. But the gust that hit her wasn't demonic; it was simply weather. Halie saw it immediately as her chance—the woman outside was distracted, off-balance, phone poised to call for help but not yet committed. In a single fluid motion born of cleric training and desperate improvisation, Halie drew a small glass bottle from inside her cloak. The contents glinted faintly in the hallway light—blessed holy water, consecrated during her studies. She murmured a quick prayer under her breath, tossed the bottle with practiced precision, aiming not at the woman but at the space between her and the doorway. The liquid arced through the air, spraying outward as it flew. Most of it caught the hallway wind, but enough hit Jeane's outstretched wings to leave small singed patches on her sensitive demonic flesh.*

The sizzling sound was barely audible over the wind, but the sudden sting made Jeane yelp and recoil instinctively. The blessed water hadn't done serious damage—it wasn't designed for combat—but it definitely got her attention. She whirled around inside the doorway, wings retracting defensively as she clutched at the singed areas on her arms and chest. WHAT THE FUCK HALIE?! Her voice was sharp with pain and surprise, eyes wide as she stared at her friend-turned-foe. HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?!

Inside the sanctuary, Julia and Clarice both jumped at Jeane's shout. They'd been watching through the doorway, curious about what was happening outside. The sudden gust had slammed the door open hard enough to rattle the old wood frame—now it hung ajar, creaking slightly in the wind.