thestormishere: (writing on the wall)
[ You'd think that a woman who goes by 'Lightning' would have an affinity for thunderstorms. However, in truth... considering she grew up in the all but completely climate-controlled environment of Cocoon, her experiences with storms in general have actually been relatively rare, and... well, while she doesn't fear them by any means, she's certainly found they tend to bring more trouble than anything else- and not just because of the bothersome amphibious monsters that like to frolic in their wake.

This afternoon's no different. More importantly, water - and cold, the rumble of thunder overhead and wind gusting over her, mussing her hair - isn't something she was expecting to wake up to. In fact, she... really wasn't expecting to wake up at all. She hadn't been asleep.

In an instant she's rolled into a crouch, backing up against the nearest wall, and the soggy journal laying nearby captures the image of a woman who looks just about as good as you'd expect out of someone who just found themselves face-down in the midst of a rainy village, wearing nothing more than that ever-familiar white dress of a New Feather. Who needs dignity? ]


What...? What?

[ Oh, she seems unhappy. Especially since- even though she clearly wasn't armed a moment beforehand, when she then extends her arm... this happens, with what appears to be a sword materializing in her hand with a flurry of white feathers.

Feathers that slowly vanish with a soft light as they land on the ground, although she stays still, obviously confused yet trying not to show it.

She might be a face that's been around in town for quite a while, but it's likely that only those closest to her or close to her friends in turn will have even heard anything about how she's been missing for just over half a day now.

... Until now, at least. ]
thestormishere: (not a question of can or can't)
[ Evening of the 8th )

It's not until well into Thursday afternoon that Lightning makes a reappearance to the 'public.' That said, it would be hard to pinpoint anything's wrong at all for those who don't know her fairly well, save for a sort of distant demeanor- evident in her averted gaze and too-smooth voice.

She's sitting on a beach in her transmitted video, but it's not Luceti's beach, given it's clearly night where she is, in contrast to the real sun still shining away cheerfully outside. ]


I'm looking for people wanting to spar-- maybe help me test something. Weapons, hand-to-hand, anything. Send me a message. Or just come to the battle dome.

[ "-- I don't care." There's a short pause, while she briefly taps her fingers on her knee, tries to think of anything else worth mentioning.... ]

Magic is a bonus too, if you've got it.

[ And then there's an abrupt end to the 'feed' once again. Anyone who doesn't catch her message or decides to just go ahead and wander over to the battle dome will find her fiddling with the simulation controls, armed with an unusual, bulky weapon - looking somewhat like some sort of gun - hanging holstered behind her hips.

... No, there's really no words for how much pain she's in right now, but perhaps distraction may help. In any case, no matter how much she sometimes seems set on it, she knows quite well by now that cutting herself off has a very low chance of making her feel any better. If nothing else, this is at least worth a try. ]
thestormishere: (to sink or swim)
[ Lightning's actually not much of a morning person. Military girl or not, on most days it's usually the sun that beats her up- especially once the daylight hours start lengthening a little, and she has no real obligations except to get an early start on going out to run or something...

This time, though... something's been bothering her all night, and sleep in general hasn't come easy at all. It's still mostly dark when she tumbles out of her room, on edge because even if she doesn't yet recognize the source something is wrong--

It doesn't take her long to figure out why, that her current family in Luceti number has abruptly dropped, four total to three instead. After all, she's been around plenty long enough to know the signs that someone has left, even if she's never experienced it firsthand.

In this case, it's an empty bedroom- the only sign that it's ever been lived in at all the color of the walls and several of the dog's things left behind.

And to say that the woman's upset is like saying water is wet, or really, that Luceti is unfair. Rather than alerting anyone else, however, there's only a distinct SLAM of the front door as the pink-haired l'Cie flees the scene, taking Baldr with her - even now she's not cruel enough to make the animal think two of his people have left him.

Whether her housemates choose to go after her immediately or discuss amongst themselves first or whatever, regardless, eventually there's brief audio message that gets thrown out to the winds of the journals, delivered in a voice that's deceptively flat. Considering the general sentiment behind such a common type of report here, however, she's probably not fooling even those who don't know her personally. ]


Hope Estheim's gone home.

[ ... Someone just try and be smart with her about the teen's name right now. She's not in the mood. ]
thestormishere: (the hero will drown)
[ For Lightning, because of the circumstances at the end of the last time she'd been drafted, this is actually the first time since her arrival she's ever had to go and try to readjust back to 'normal' life so suddenly- to go from experiencing days of battle and worry, thinking critically, ready to kill or order to kill at a moment's notice... to sleeping in a bed she's used to, eating breakfast in the morning, running for exercise, trying to figure out what else to do for the day...

The village might just be getting started on a whole new New Feather cycle, but Lightning doesn't really find it easy to care that much. She pays attention but mostly ignores what doesn't concern her-- aside from even more random strangers wandering through her yard, that is. Apparently that's just the price of living at house #41, so close to the plaza.

... Of course, something is still pretty off, too. Regardless of somehow managing to do a passable job before, she'd really rather not be having to go out and water the flowers around the house again-- Aerith's flowers. Especially since, like it or not, the guilt over not keeping an eye on the other woman that last day of the draft continues to plague her. She still doesn't know what happened to her, aside from the fact that she suddenly disappeared and just never came back... and yet she does know that others will probably be wondering where she is anyway. In a weird way, the l'Cie kind of considers handling it her duty... even if she'll still be eyeing anyone who gets near with obvious suspicion.

Unless your name happens to be Hope or Zack, of course, the former which has an upcoming birthday laying on her mind, and the other which... she needs to... kind of figure things out with. After that conversation right before everyone was sent off. Ohhhh boy.

If she's not caught in her yard, eventually she does leave her own territory, though, restless and looking for something to do. And after some time, she turns to the journals with a dry, vaguely annoyed-sounding inquiry: ]


Just... out of curiosity, who all is even looking after these fruit trees north of the village? [ A short pause, and she's clearly looking off, studying something a little bit overhead. Unsurprisingly, she's standing right alongside an apple tree, bearing a prodigious load of readying round fruit. ] Look about ready to harvest, out here...

January 2013

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