Round 12

Jeane’s crimson eyes narrow as she circles one of the strangers slowly, her dark orb pulsing with rhythmic menace. Two of you, then. Sending an ambassador with… multiplicative abilities. Her voice drips with disdain, each word measured and sharp. How quaintly theatrical. The orb feeds on her barely contained irritation, its darkness spreading like oil across water.

She stops her predatory circling, wings tucked tight against her back in a stance that screams coiled spring. You claim to represent interests? Her gaze is a predatory assessment, calculating angles and threats with cold precision. What kind of 'collaboration' involves interrupting a binding ritual and threatening my… associate? Jeane’s eyes flick briefly to Hera, then snap 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 as she eyes the duplicates warily. Because if this is some kind of trick or test, we're not in the mood for games. She glances at Jeane — the sorceress’s orb crackling with barely contained energy — then back to the strangers, her teal eyes calculating potential threats.

Abby presses herself against the wall, her wide brown eyes fixed on the confrontation unfolding before her. The sight of the two identical strangers facing off against Jeane is terrifyingly fascinating. One wrong move from either side could set off a chain reaction they’d all regret. Her heart hammers against her ribs so loudly she’s sure everyone must be able to hear it.

Silra's calm demeanor is both reassuring and infuriating. How can she be so collected right now? Abby thinks, her gaze darting between the strangers and back to Hera, still bound and vulnerable in her chair.