A darkness allured, a cojurered roared. Dark scarf in sanguine, a young witch she did seen. Esperia? How Quaint. A she witch of kin, a demon within. "You were a delight." She wrote down, a blood from finger drowned. A dark void fire spewed out, it embered down south. She toiled and rushed it, no, she blushed and bluffed it. She wrote it all down, backwards upside down. She toiled and struggled, eternally fuddled. She muggled and wrustled, and nudged and embezzled. She wrote it all out, and blew it to fall. The most cold of them all, the winter death maul.

She called upon seasons, and brought about darkness, a powerful, ice winter, blood ritual harvest. She toiled their bodies, she danced and she razzled. She darted about and she spat at the castles. She wondered around, made her way back from the slums. To the blood with it made no difference, she would bury them in the mums. What difference would it make she got paid either way? Was it good? Was it bad? Was it neutral? Who's to say? She wrote out the methods and brought them to mind, she toiled her brain and she reminded in kind. Blood writing did hit the paper with black blighting. Dark flighting red fighting black lighting dead rising. Some blood and some cuts and a heart and a stash. She covered her traces, she burried them in ash. Dark purple fllames frosted and dared others to cross it. She spoke in elf language and dared others to boss it. A simple utility spell that brought with it death, she thought on it more and she brought it to breath. She though of ill visions and brought forth the courage. She hit them with carrows and marrrowed their heritage. She left no traces back there, no fingerprints or tones. She did not leave witnesses or syndicates or stones. She spoke to the wind and made out for the night. In the dead of the dusk she went into the fight. She called upon darkness and moonlight and blight. She took her foe down and stuck them in a sack. She drained the husk dry and threw it on the rack. She grabbed at it gnabbed it and jumped down from the sky. She'd found her self a tree to plunge from the high. She marked it down slowly and waited it out. She'd stolen the guard records and plotted it prout. She crawled and she tip toed and channelled a silence. She summoned a slug, and she summoned her fox blighted. She brought out a smoke screen and disappeared quick, she chanelled her ancestors and thought of their wits. End of the line she brought a threshhold to bring sentine's lines. The box they would bring out would entwine and brine. She called upon oceans and forged towards bodies. She grabbed a new victim and found her a hottie. She slit at the heart and drew it out in a grab, she took it to the other place where the dead had been gabbed.