Round 8

The morning chill cut through Halie's thin shirt as she pressed herself against the church wall, trying to make herself smaller. The voices outside were getting louder - male voices, multiple people approaching. She could hear Abby whimpering softly nearby but didn't dare look over yet. "Shut up," she hissed under her breath. "They'll hear you." The sun was still low enough that shadows clung to every corner of the abandoned building. Halie strained her ears, trying to count how many sets of footsteps there were. Three? Four? "Fuck," she breathed out softly. Across the courtyard, Silra crouched behind a crumbling statue, her heart pounding so hard she was sure it would give them away. The footsteps stopped just outside the main entrance - too close for comfort. She could feel the residual lubricant still drying on her inner thighs from last night's... activities. Every movement shifted the evidence of what they'd been doing mere hours ago. "Stay down," she whispered to the robed woman cowering beside her. Jeane had found a hiding spot in the bell tower, her wings tucked tight against her back. She could see the courtyard from here - Silra and another woman crouching behind cover, Hera pressed against the wall with two hostages nearby. And then there were those footsteps approaching from outside. This was rapidly devolving into a shitshow she hadn't planned for. "Fuck," she muttered, adjusting her position slightly. The movement made her wince - her ass still ached from last night's... activities. She needed to think ahead. If they could get back to the city without drawing attention, they had options - a place to regroup, a chance to process what had happened, and distance from whoever might be snooping around here now. But first things first: they needed to handle whatever was approaching without revealing themselves or their current state.*