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[Open Training] When We Write From Hell

Posted: Sun Mar 14, 2021 11:25 am
by Sia
In a dreary black outfit most suited for night ops, the eldest Muramasa began her work. She brought forth her might, her courage, her wisdom. Her knowledge of forbidden and cursed acts. The Blood Witch hummed, a macabre prance. To onlookers often it looked quite the dance. She spun and she worked, called upon the dark forces. A bit of fire, a bit of water, a bit of air, a bit of reason. Now give it some life, a flame full of strife. A tad of drowned sorrows, embellished in waves.

With water and air then she concocted a brew. A stew of the two to make mist, it was true. She brought it together, in one hand she made it. A mist given form, a flame having been born. She combined the two freely, a dark ember gleaming. With black magics and fuuins now she would toil and bubble. Wrap it together and give it a struggle. A snuggle of ruffles and mist seeping bubbles. No smoke, only mists, and a flame that burned nothing. It enveloped in a sort, it encroached in a sense. Yet rather it had its own place on the list.

A dark blue and black flame, which gave off no heat. On contact, it sealed away many things, Maido found it neat. It spewed out dark mists, in dark navy blue and squid ink black colors. Whatever the flames touched were sealed and sundered. ......