There was a gleam as she moved it with a flick of her wrist; like an aura of danger, darkness, and light. It rested on a cutting edge. Learning how sharp the points were, rolling the hilt between twirling fingers. Cold steel pressed up against her wrist and she paused, intently looking at her narrow reflection. Transferring herself into the metal; looking past the solid level and into the curve and meaning of such a weapon. She stayed that way for minutes, until she could see the faint colored light of old blood raise from its edges.
She smirked as she pulled the knife away from her wrist, fingering the warm touch against the other cold butt. With the energy transferred, the candles lit in a circle and scattered around the room, the energy in the room rose to an ethereal level. All though nothing in the room moved, Dianna could feel thee hair on her neck raise and lift as though she were being lifted by a noon existent wind. Staticy air wrapped tightly around her mouth and heart, creating a struggle as she began to lay the cool flat against her breast.
All at once- it all stopped and the world fell back to gravity, and the poor sense of reality that we all deal with on a daily bases. Silence was broken by a raspy exhale; and, weakened; Dianna let her hand fall away, body exhausted. The edge slipped across her skin, and the thin edge came away with a red too real to notice for most at first glance. Placing the blade along the altar, green speckled eyes opened and observed the line of blood falling onto the ornamental tabletop. Her other hand flew up to her chest, her heart line, feeling the sticky warm life falling from her. Pulling her hand away, she saw her palm traced with her own blood.
The white energy- all colors of light in one, flew from her heart line as she collapsed on her knees, holding her face in her hands, crying into her blood for all she had released and how she had failed once more.