Laughed. Sickened laughter emanated from Lucien, for it would be inaccurate to say he himself was laughing. He chuckled in a thousand different voices, yet was crying in pain at the same time. It was as if he had mouths beneath his corrupted flesh that cried and laughed like two parallel theatre masks multiplied by the thousands. As Irina swirled hers and Lucien's blood around her, some of it began to... dissipate? No - [i]it was turning to ash.[/i] Lucien's blood transmuted into calcified skin cells with burning blue cores, skin to a swathe of hot cinders. Irina had unintentionally trapped herself in a swirling ash storm by controlling Lucien's blood. He slowly raised his sword up and brought his blade down quickly, not hitting Irina at all due to the range between them, but shaping the ashen winds around Irina into razors that burnt her flesh every time they cut her - he was cauterizing each wound to ensure she would bleed no more.