(no subject)
[ private ]
[ It's been difficult however her struggles have paid off. She's stronger now, she can feel it. She can do more than simple party tricks, she can defend herself. A sly smile creeps onto her lips as she casts a gaze to the sword floating in front of her, the blade glistening in the firelight. Her finger lazily drifts down a page, green eyes flickering from word to word--aha, there.
She doesn't fully understand the words that leave her mouth, they are foreign to her and at first she mispronounces them her brow knitting together in displeasure. She repeats them again, nothing happens, and her frustration grows; but the third time she gets it right and the brilliant flame bursts to life around the sword. It's cool to touch, she discovers, and does not burn her, like it recognizes the one who willed it into life. Morgana cannot help but laugh, overjoyed at her own power as the flames begin to shrink into blade, leaving nothing but glowing red symbols.
She did this.
This is her power.
Pride swells in her chest and hastily she turns a page, searching for something else to try. It doesn't take her long only this time as the words left her mouth it does all go as planned-- ]
----
[ --the journal opens to a gust of wind, something (or a good number of things) shattering loudly and a rather undignified shriek from someone familiar. Okay so she may not be as good as she thought, but everyone makes mistakes right? ]
Dammit. [ Shards of glass and mirror are scattered around her, the sword is now wedged in the floor. She glances around both startled and annoyed, unaware of the journal being opened. ]
(ooc; open like an open thing. over the journals or anyone loitering around on the second floor. all her windows, mirrors and other glass objects have shattered. tis quite the mess.)
[ It's been difficult however her struggles have paid off. She's stronger now, she can feel it. She can do more than simple party tricks, she can defend herself. A sly smile creeps onto her lips as she casts a gaze to the sword floating in front of her, the blade glistening in the firelight. Her finger lazily drifts down a page, green eyes flickering from word to word--aha, there.
She doesn't fully understand the words that leave her mouth, they are foreign to her and at first she mispronounces them her brow knitting together in displeasure. She repeats them again, nothing happens, and her frustration grows; but the third time she gets it right and the brilliant flame bursts to life around the sword. It's cool to touch, she discovers, and does not burn her, like it recognizes the one who willed it into life. Morgana cannot help but laugh, overjoyed at her own power as the flames begin to shrink into blade, leaving nothing but glowing red symbols.
She did this.
This is her power.
Pride swells in her chest and hastily she turns a page, searching for something else to try. It doesn't take her long only this time as the words left her mouth it does all go as planned-- ]
----
[ --the journal opens to a gust of wind, something (or a good number of things) shattering loudly and a rather undignified shriek from someone familiar. Okay so she may not be as good as she thought, but everyone makes mistakes right? ]
Dammit. [ Shards of glass and mirror are scattered around her, the sword is now wedged in the floor. She glances around both startled and annoyed, unaware of the journal being opened. ]
(ooc; open like an open thing. over the journals or anyone loitering around on the second floor. all her windows, mirrors and other glass objects have shattered. tis quite the mess.)