Brielle decided she would go next, she had been wanting to hold out to go luckly last, but it seemed there was no time like the present.

Stepping forward, her ponytail bouncing as she stepped, the girl withdrew her wand, in the most elegant fashion of course. Brielle's wand, like everything else about this girl was perfect, and beautifully well kept. The very holster that held it, beside being the best one could get, acted as a permanent polisher. It was not possibly for this wand to less then perfection. The wand and the Witch were made for each other.

With a slight curtsy and dip of the head Brielle presented her wand, "10½ Pouces, Cerisier, les Cheveux d'une Sirène" The girl said, realising that she had in fact spoken in her native tongue, "Pardon moi, 10½ Inches, Cherry, The Hair of a Siren" she smiled.

As usual she could help but place her hand on her hip, in the modelesque style that way Brielle. Her body language read, Yeah read that!