"The Dance," Wanda's perception.

Like a sacred dance, it typically starts as a tiny tingle in your fantastic toes; like music that you love being played at a significant volume that slowly slithers up through your legs. Gradually, the tingle feels like you've been struck with an electric current by a downed powerline as the sensation grows in size and magnitude. It's a kind of feeling that forces you to move as you draw it up from the ground below your feet and up into your soul.

 
Before long, it settles deep in your prominent belly before it inflates up into your rib cage and brilliantly blossoms like a rare, red rose that crushes your ribs as it inflates. Filling that cavity with crackling flames that must be expelled. The fire trickles up through your throat in a slow crawl until that fire sparks through your eyes. Cherry, fierce; the brilliant color of one's own precious blood that properly meets sacred flame.

 
As that static powerfully builds, it must be promptly released. A small fire can send out small tendrils of flames between delicate, nimble, and capable fingers. The digits begin a dance, causing friction that gathers and pools like lava in the palms of each hand.

 
At that point, you bear it. It, suddenly, forces you to move. Arcing of one arm overhead and one sweeping up below to roll forward with a ballerina's grace until those small balls of energy turn into a vortex of powerful Magick.

 
Nimble fingers flex, delicately playing through the sultry air as if they were thoughtfully stroking the unique strings of a rare guitar or playing Brahms on a grand piano. Arms drift in snake-like patterns through the air overheard to come down low to the ground. Pulling up, pulling up, carefully pulling up more and more extraordinary power with each delicate move.

 
Once the inner music undoubtedly reaches a gradual crescendo and the capable body has carefully collected the lively bars into a sweeping symphony. It is thrown out into the world.

Used to vanquish a foe, become a shield, restore a town or construct an alternative universe within the inner fabric of the genuine one.

 
Rage, fierce pain, fear, acute depression, and sadness are all tools used to paint the world in scarlet light. Emotions turned into a destructive art of the body and mind.

 
In the ultimate end, though, as the brilliant flames of the inferno willingly die and subside sufficiently; behind is left either carnage or grand rebirth...Maybe even both.

 
Never stand in the direct path of a flaming tornado; it can eagerly tear your peaceful world completely apart and you with it.