At the request, Jannick’s lips curved a bit, into a brief smile. He had been hoping for that kind of answer, pleased when Pitch’s eyes focused back on him, after looking at his scars. He reaches for the necklace, using his other hand to pull aside his shirt, exposing his collar bone. The blade is mostly covered by his fingers as he takes a deep breath in, eyes closing as he draws a line against the prominent bone. It does nothing at first before the cut floods red like a tiny stream. He grimaces a bit, pressing his fingers against the open wound.
It isn’t bleeding much - if at all - in fact, nothing seems particularly extraordinary about what he’s done so far. The hand against his chest tenses and he slowly moves it outward, coaxing his blood with it. It’s almost floating, moving in slow motion, trailing in the air path that his hand has made. Jannick’s eyes open, observing the floating crimson before he gathers it in the palm of his hand. It beings to form a solid, his fingers curl around the end of the object it’s creating and in the split second it takes to create it, there is now a shining blade sitting in his palm.
"You want to hold it?"
Pitch watches the blade intently, flickering every now and then to look back at the red heads face, to watch him. He swallows thickly at the grimace as his eyes trail back down to the blood. It was a beautiful shade, blood was always one of his favorite colors.
Nothing seems to have happened the first few moments, but knowing something would, he waited in baited breath. He feels the boy next to him tense and watches, eyes sparkling with fascination as the blood begins to move like a beautiful dark ballet. Before he could blink the blood became solid, some form of sharp object. It was amazing and Pitch would be a liar if he said he wasn't envious of such a beautiful power. He nodded, not sure if the blood would return into a liquid state if he touched it or not, not that he cared. Pitch held out his hand and looked into Jannicks eyes and nodded.
