[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/jLsB8OE.png[/img]
[color=e3dac9][b]Time of Day[/b][/color] [i]Early Morning[/i]
[color=e3dac9][b]Location[/b][/color] [i]Dormitory Kitchens - Dormitory Corridor[/i]
[color=e3dac9][b]Interacting with[/b][/color] [@CaptainMarvel][@Lurking Shadow][@OrkytheOrc][/center]

The kitchen was getting crowded, and fast. It was difficult to keep up with the massive comings and goings filtering through the doorway, but it was getting less comfortable by the moment. Given what the reptile had said, Willow could only offer a single return, his eyes turning to lay fixed upon the orc as he re-entered the room. [b][color=e3dac9]"Then cut him into pieces..,"[/color][/b] the boy frowned, turning to the kettle before turning the fire off. Serendipity reared its lovely head towards the young sorcerer, given how he had finished making the meal now prepared for dinner. [b][color=e3dac9]"This place is getting way too crowded, for me."[/color][/b] Willow sighed as he muttered quietly, reaching for a small loaf of bread he had baked a day prior. The wonderful scent of newly baked bread in the morning was something very little could compare to, alas that was not the case this hour. Rather, as people were slipping into the kitchen, Willow took the chance to slip out. His slight frame and tiny size would surely aid in a stealthy escape, that tail being the last thing one would see of the little creature as he made himself scarce. 

Dropping down on a bench in the corridor outside, Willow reached into his shoulder bag and produced a notebook. Those razor sharp teeth rowing his mouth easily bit into the loaf he had taken, a long, slender black haired tail gently resting on his lap as he rummaged after a pencil within the confines of his bag. [color=B89660]"What a fucking circus,"[/color] Blackmore stretched, placing his hands behind his head as he abruptly used Willow's lap as a pillow. [color=B89660]"What's it gonna' take for you to off that orc, anyways'?"[/color]

[b][color=e3dac9]"What good would that do?"[/color][/b] Willow responded, one dainty clawed had on the bread loaf and another on the pen, working on a song he had begun writing earlier. [b][color=e3dac9]"[/color]"Just ignore it, and it'll walk into a wall or something."[/b] The sorcerer finished, tracing his pen against the page of his book, writing out the words as they came to mind. Lately, he hadn't had much time to focus on his music. Blood Magic had confiscated the most of his free hours where he needed to master the various arts accredited to the form. Blood runes were powerful, but required precision and focus, both of which could be difficult, depending on what Blackmore was doing in the background. At times, the shade would help, assisting Willow as the boy's analytical thoughts were given flesh, in the form of his very own figment. Indeed, it was fair to say that Blackmore's behavior was affected by Willow's state of mind. 

[color=B89660]"Think anyone would care? Scales over there seems to be getting along with Green-Freak, just melt them both and call it an accident. Say it was the snake. Like, he poisoned the orc, and the orc fought back."[/color] Blackmore tapped his chin, thinking it over.

[b][color=e3dac9]"And they both happened to die from necrosis? It's rather easy to see if it was me,"[/color][/b] Willow raised an eyebrow, looking down at the reflection resting upon his lap. [b][color=e3dac9]"Stop with the killing talk. I have enough trouble controlling my powers, as is."[/color][/b]

[color=B89660]"Because you're trying to limit yourself. You're so fucking afraid of hurting others, that you end up crippling yourself."[/color] The shade added, [color=B89660]"They way you made our captors fall apart? Hah! The fucking screams, dude. It was amazing, best thing ever."[/color] Blackmore finished, with a smirk. He wasn't wrong. Seeing those orcs withering away at a rapid pace, their skin blackening to the color of charcoal as cracked and fell apart with blood mixing into rotted meat, it brought a sense of satisfaction to the small Enuri. Poetic justice, they called it. What goes around, comes around. It only made sense. 

Willow's internal powers, his ability to conjure and command necrotic energy as if second nature, it came at a price, one he was consistently paying. His slight frame, pale skin and scrawny shape weren't all attested to his species. Necromancy was powerful, but also dangerous. More so than the other forces of magic, due to its life-sapping nature. No matter how much Willow ate, no matter how much he trained, he would remain like this, pale and small. Divine energies burned like a crackling fire, and the darkness of Necromancy was more soothing than a siren's song. He'd be lying if the boy claimed to understand his nature. He did not, by any stretch of the imagination. The guild kept him under close watch, and maintained a strict set of rules for its students. The only thing Willow had been able to truly understand about his powers was that the bone colored energy caused an immense pain along with the biological devastation it brought. However, for him, the very same energy felt almost like silk as it coated his skin. It was a lovely sensation, as if running his hand through the softest fur. Truly a riddle, most of all for Willow himself.