Round 11

Jeane's crimson eyes narrow as she assesses the duplicates before her. Two of you, then. Her voice drips with disdain. Sending an ambassador with… multiplicative abilities. How quaintly theatrical. The dark orb in her palm pulses rhythmically, feeding on her barely contained irritation.

She circles one of the strangers slowly, wings tucked tight against her back. You claim to represent interests? Her gaze is a predatory assessment. What kind of 'collaboration' involves interrupting a binding ritual and threatening my… associate? Jeane's eyes flick briefly to Hera, then back to the strangers. The orb pulses again, a visible manifestation of her growing impatience.

Silra shifts uncomfortably, her stomach still distended from the earlier oral impregnation. Both of you are… representing these interests? Her voice is cautious, tinged with suspicion. Because if this is some kind of trick or test, we're not in the mood for games. She glances at Jeane, then back to the strangers, her teal eyes calculating potential threats.

Abby presses herself against the wall, wide brown eyes fixed on the unfolding scene. The heavy atmosphere of magic and tension seems to weigh on her more than anyone else present.