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: (heading for a breakdown)
[ Lightning looks particularly tired today, although even with it obvious that she's got her journal open, she's clearly not looking at it- something that might explain why she doesn't seem to notice that she's 'recording' herself. ]

I'm not tired.

[ She seems pretty frustrated, too. After a moment, she literally tosses the journal aside- the image spins wildly... and yet keeps going even after it lands. A view of Lightning's legs strolling away can be seen, and then Aerith, standing a short distance away and fiddling with the staff in her hands. Lightning stops next to her, hand on hip, but their conversation - if any - is seemingly too low to be caught.

They're in the battledome, and anyone who happens to be around out there or tuning in curiously will quickly see that what they're doing doesn't seem very interesting: like many others, preparing for the draft by fighting simulated Third Party combatants. Lightning takes point, wielding her gunblade with practiced ease as Aerith calls on the magic of the Filial spirits, firing jets of water and following up with her staff. Those familiar with spirit energy may also recognize that she's gathering and is close to unleashing it, a very faint glow of light around her body.

Eventually the last soldier collapses, the body fading away, and Aerith turns to Lightning. There's a slash on her arm, bloodied but shallow, but the brunette doesn't pay it mind for the moment, looking at Lightning with an earnest expression. ]
All right, I'm ready.

Right... [ Lightning seems at once determined and uneasy as she folds her gunblade and slams it into its holster, shifting in place. Aerith pauses, then holds her staff in front of her, concentrating with her brow furrowed. The energy goes out from her, surrounding Lightning and surging forward as beams of light-- going specifically for her chest, from which a different glow starts to appear: bright blue, seemingly shining from a small but elaborate something beneath her sleeveless tunic...

But almost immediately after that, it's obvious that something is extremely wrong. The lights flare, almost seeming to clash, and what looks like it should be a magical healing of some sort causes Lightning to suddenly stagger back as if struck, pressing a hand into her chest.

And as if that wasn't enough, the pink-haired girl screams in pain. The sound abruptly cuts off just as the glow fades, Lightning wavers where she stands, and then just collapses, straight down with zero effort to catch herself- not a good sign, considering the former soldier could probably do that in her sleep.

OOC: Both video and action open! ]

January 2013

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