Member
Old Amsterdam
olcharlieboiEasy for him to say, he wasn't a girl. It wasn't like Morgana wasn't fine with being naked in front of people, it was just generally speaking: A) It was freaking cold when you did. B) It gave people funny ideas and Morgana had to run from enough people as is. C) Only perverts said something like that anyway. Obviously if she was fighting for her life, which was apparently going to be a thing here as well, then she wouldn't worry about something as trivial as clothes. However the important thing now was to focus on what Dragon was saying. Apparently this was a sink or swim sort of thing. Morgana felt a confusing swirl of sensations as he pressed spheres of magic into them. For a second, Morgana wasn't entirely sure what was going on. Then the pain started. Well that explained why they were kneeling. So that they didn't crash into the ground. A string of curses ran through Morgana's mind longer than the Amazon River and just about as convoluted.
Form a shape? Morgana shoved the writhing pain she felt to the recesses of her mind, something that she was used to, but even with that it was a screaming beast tearing at her consciousness. Morgana clumsily pushed her new found energy together. She held her hands together just in front of her stomach, gathering all she could there as best she could. It was a writhing mass of energy that appeared to have some sort of center. Slowly it began to look like something solid. It was, at first, a bubbling sphere fully enclosed by her hands that were wrapped around it. Then it managed to warp into something resembling what Morgana wanted. When it was finished it took the form of a knife, about twice as long as one that you would use to spread butter with and around a centimeter or so wide. To call it a crude shape would be generous, periodically some of it would ripple erratically or leak to one side or the other. It was the best Morgana could do. She wasn't sure if it'd taken seconds or minutes or even hours, she was far too focused on the work at hand to keep track of time. He'd said you picked a form for when you used it later. In the half-moments Morgana had been able to form a coherent thought she'd picked a knife.
Form a shape? Morgana shoved the writhing pain she felt to the recesses of her mind, something that she was used to, but even with that it was a screaming beast tearing at her consciousness. Morgana clumsily pushed her new found energy together. She held her hands together just in front of her stomach, gathering all she could there as best she could. It was a writhing mass of energy that appeared to have some sort of center. Slowly it began to look like something solid. It was, at first, a bubbling sphere fully enclosed by her hands that were wrapped around it. Then it managed to warp into something resembling what Morgana wanted. When it was finished it took the form of a knife, about twice as long as one that you would use to spread butter with and around a centimeter or so wide. To call it a crude shape would be generous, periodically some of it would ripple erratically or leak to one side or the other. It was the best Morgana could do. She wasn't sure if it'd taken seconds or minutes or even hours, she was far too focused on the work at hand to keep track of time. He'd said you picked a form for when you used it later. In the half-moments Morgana had been able to form a coherent thought she'd picked a knife.