>>5833263>>5834497In the deepening gloom, Wetware and New Moon converged like shadows coalescing into form. Their movements were whispers against the night, each step a careful negotiation with silence. The air was taut with anticipation, the city's heartbeat a distant thrum as they neared the workshop.
The scene that unfolded before them was surreal, a tableau vivant of the arcane and the primal. The silver spirit, a luminous apparition, conversed with the Uratha. Its form shimmered ethereally, a stark contrast to the raw, bestial presence of the werewolves. The spirit's voice was a melody of otherworldliness, its words weaving through the air like threads of moonlight. The Uratha, usually embodiments of savage ferocity, were oddly still, their eyes reflecting the spirit's argent glow.
Wetware and New Moon crouched in the shadows, observing this unexpected parley. The air around them was thick with the scent of tension, the kind that precedes a storm. This meeting, whatever its nature, was a wrinkle in their plan, a wild card in a deck already stacked with uncertainty. The pair exchanged a glance, a silent communication in the face of the unknown, ready to adapt, to react, to survive. The night held its breath, waiting for the next move in this deadly dance.
Starting options are:
1) Risk being found out, but try to get closer to spy on their conversation
2) Get out of there
3) Pick a fight on the spot
