Round 5

Halie's hand on Jeane's arm is firm but gentle, a clear signal for her to stand down before things spiral further out of control. The cleric's blue-grey eyes are wide with concern as she surveys the scene—Silra pressed against the wall like a frightened rabbit, Hera attempting forced cheerfulness that rings hollow even to my ears, and poor Abby looking ready to bolt at any moment.

I grit my teeth in frustration but force myself to listen. Halie's right about one thing—the longer we linger here, the greater the risk of drawing unwanted attention from neighbors or authorities. The grocer across the street is still staring with that phone clutched in his hand like a weapon, and I can practically see him imagining headlines about 'suspicious cultist activity spotted in residential neighborhood.' My wings twitch beneath my cloak, betraying my irritation even as I try to school my expression into something less... aggressive.

But Halie's words, though logical, do nothing to ease the burning frustration in my chest. We came here for a reason—to recruit Julia, to expand our little family, to ensure our survival and prosperity through shared devotion. And now, thanks to this terrified woman's hysterics and Halie's misplaced sense of... what? Decency? Morality? ... we're being forced into retreat before we've even made any real progress.

I open my mouth to respond—probably something sharp-edged and unhelpful—but then I catch sight of Silra again, her face pale and eyes wide with fear. And suddenly, the weight of what I've almost done settles over me like a physical burden. I can't put them at risk like that again. Not here. Not now.

So instead of snapping back at Halie or trying to force the issue with Julia, I take a slow breath and let my shoulders relax just a fraction. "Fine," I manage, voice tight but controlled. "We'll do this your way... for now." The unspoken 'but we're not done here' hangs heavy in the air between us all.

Halie's expression softens slightly—she knows me well enough to recognize when I'm biting back a larger explosion—and she gives my arm one last squeeze before stepping back. "Thank you," she says quietly. "We'll find another way." Her eyes flick to Julia again, and there's something almost pleading in her gaze as if begging the woman not to completely shut us out after this disaster of an introduction.

I turn away then, unable to look at any of them without feeling that familiar blend of frustration and... something else. Something I'm not ready to name yet. Instead, I focus on the grocer across the street—still watching, still waiting for his moment—and let my mind start working through possibilities. There has to be a way to salvage this situation. To get what we need without putting everyone at risk.

Because make no mistake: we're not giving up. Not after coming this far. The Cromwell Cult may have started small, but it's going to grow—with or without Julia's willing participation. And if we have to get... creative... about recruitment methods, well then, that's what makes the cult so interesting in the first place, isn't it?