[long, obviously, because it's probably what makes the most sense for a man his size. it feels stupid to have asked, but—no matter. she looks around, spots one of those shovels that nero had dragged in with him earlier in the day, leaning against a wall.
her hands are joined together, plumes of scarlet circling between her fingers, as she catapults her thoughts and will into transmuting the shovel into a sword. it's part imagination, part fantasy things she's seen on tv, and a big chunk of what she's seen here that others have wielded. again, this is not unlike making nero's sword for him twice now.
the sword reclines against the wall, now, and wanda's magic ceases. she rubs a hand over her lips, relieved at the lack of a nosebleed, still.]
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her hands are joined together, plumes of scarlet circling between her fingers, as she catapults her thoughts and will into transmuting the shovel into a sword. it's part imagination, part fantasy things she's seen on tv, and a big chunk of what she's seen here that others have wielded. again, this is not unlike making nero's sword for him twice now.
the sword reclines against the wall, now, and wanda's magic ceases. she rubs a hand over her lips, relieved at the lack of a nosebleed, still.]
That should work.
[lest he finds reason to complain about it.]