[Crona can feel the magic, familiar and unsettling. Crona does not like magic.]
Hey, Ragnarok? [Crona is clinging to the metal of the bull as it bucks and crashes around. But Crona is determined.
Crona offers Ragnarok the idea, and the mouth on the sword grins. Those black dragon wings dissolve into a splash of liquid that seeps into the bull, coating gears and mechanisms in blood.]
Freeze. [Ragnarok laughs, and the blood goes solid, trying to lock the moving parts in place. It will probably work. Things can't break through black blood.]
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Hey, Ragnarok? [Crona is clinging to the metal of the bull as it bucks and crashes around. But Crona is determined.
Crona offers Ragnarok the idea, and the mouth on the sword grins. Those black dragon wings dissolve into a splash of liquid that seeps into the bull, coating gears and mechanisms in blood.]
Freeze. [Ragnarok laughs, and the blood goes solid, trying to lock the moving parts in place. It will probably work. Things can't break through black blood.]