[X] The weirwood interests you, for both its obviously magical nature, as well as its macabre beauty. You will take the risk, for you feel it is worth it.
[X] You will use your blood as a core, with all the risks that entails. The wand will no doubt be fickle and temperamental, but at least it will be perfectly suited to you.
You stare at the branch of weirwood, spindly and rather crooked, but not too bad considering what few branches were scattered about in the first place. While it'd have been simpler to just take directly from the source, you would prefer to avoid whatever unintended offense might come of that.
Besides, potentially oddly-shaped wand or not, you're far more interested in the wood itself, what with the subtle magic suffusing it. Using wood with magical properties may be a tad unorthodox, seeing as the magic of the wood tends to interfere with that of the core, but in this case you're not really all that worried. Blood as a core rarely emits any conflicting qualities as say a unicorn tail hair or a phoenix feather would, so in theory you should have no issues on that front. What truly worries you is that you simply do not know what properties the weirwood conveys.
Will it act as a sort of balancing act to the innate fickle nature of blood? Will it only destabilize the wand further? What if it just flat out refuses to click with your likely unfamiliar magic? The possibilities worry you, and yet, you're excited.
You've always liked to tinker, to experiment, whether it be with charms or transfiguration, jinxes or hexes, to curses of the worst kind. Now you have the opportunity to explore magic of a sort you've never encountered before, and so, risk or no, you will endeavor to learn.
You sit down at your makeshift table and get to work. You have no real tools to work with, but a few clever spells here and there leaves you with a length and shape you're comfortable with, if not entirely ideal. The tricky part will be to hollow out enough space for your blood to permeate without weakening the structure of the wood itself, no easy task, especially when you're limited to lackluster charms and using condensed air as a sort of improvised drill. You make do, and honestly, an hour or two of repetitive work is nothing compared to the monotony of Nurmengard. You beckon the conjured orb closer, as you rigorously check for any errors, the stark contrast of the wood under the false light only helping the process along. Satisfied, you lay the hollowed-out wand on the stone as you prepare for what comes next.
You run your index finger over the fingertips of your left hand, practiced motions that lead to pain you've long become accustomed with. As your blood begins to drip, you grasp and gather it before you, directing the flow to the waiting wood.
The moment the blood connects with the wood is when you notice something rather odd. You absently levitate the unfinished wand closer to you so as to better observe exactly what is happening, and frankly, you're confused. The bone white pallor of the weirwood has only become more pronounced, more eerie, as it seems to exude some manner of subtle luminescence. You realize then that the pooled blood has also begun to change, first to something resembling the consistency of sap, then to what looks like... butter? The wand is full to the brim of it now, so you cut off the flow and reach out to pluck it from the air. As you stare at whatever it is that your blood changed to, you wonder as to what effects will come of this, whether it will be a boon or a hindrance.
Normally, if one is desperate enough to use blood in the first place, the blood would need to be kept in some sort of stasis, lest nature take its course. Now, you're left with some vaguely butter-like substance, which has actually begun to crystallize somehow.
Well, it's not like you expected nothing out of the ordinary; on the contrary, really.
You're about to fix up the breach you made, when you see the wood actually trying to do so on its own. Your curiosity piqued, you leave it be, watching as it slowly reforms to what it was, if perhaps a tad different.
Your job done for you, you come to the moment of truth. You hold your newly made wand upright, your posture relaxed, and you simply let your magic flow. For the briefest of moments there is a slight resistance, before you focus your will and swat it aside. Then, you feel it, you understand it, you know. Your first, original wand, was always comfortable, warm, like an old friend. The Elder Wand was powerful, self-assured, arrogant even. This wand though, it is wild. You felt boundless greed, and yet, untold patience. A sudden realization knocks you out of your trance, then.
This is the first time you've held a wand in over fifty years. Even wandless magic was nigh-impossible under the wards you yourself created, that work of art you named Nurmengard. Now, you are free, your magic is free.
A twirl of the wand leaves you naked no more, the robes comfortable, if not all that ornate. You run the tip of the wand along your fingertips, closing up the cuts that had already begun to clot. A flick banishes the chill and you sigh as the warmth suffuses you. There are no words for how much you've missed this feeling, how much you longed for it when you had nothing but a ragged blanket and your own innate resilience to protect you against the cold Atlantic breeze. Your gaze falls on the stone that served as your workbench, when an idea comes to you.
You step onto the stone, steadying yourself as best you can as you wave the wand upwards, your intention clear and concise.
You rise above the canopy, you rise and rise, though you make sure to stop long before you could reach the clouds. You look out, as the break of dawn chases away the night. You see the Isle, the lake that surrounds it, you see the lands that stretch beyond.
A new world.
OOC vote
[] 281 AC, The Year of the False Spring. The Mad King reigns, in the midst of the Tourney of Harrenhal. This is the eve of the Targaryen dynasty, where the seeds of the Rebellion take root.
[] 297 AC, The Long Summer. King Robert reigns, yet the Game of Thrones goes on and on. All the while, the Others stir beyond the Wall, the Long Night comes.
This will set the framework for the entire quest, so choose wisely.
