thestormishere: (across the way)
October 2nd, House 41, tl;dr )

Later October 2nd, voice, filtered to Noel )

October 4th, Voice
[ It's been since before her disappearance and then almost immediate return that Lightning's made any sort of widely public, intentional post, but today apparently she's got something heavy enough on her mind to warrant attempting to soothe her curiosity.

It doesn't bother her so much though, and even those who have only seen or met her in passing should be able to tell that there's something subtly different about her- in a way that surpasses the fact that she's apparently sustained a haircut, and those wings fanned out slightly behind her are different colors than before, once-red wing turned white, once-white turned to silver and gold. She regards the journal thoughtfully a moment before speaking, her voice deliberately even. ]


If I remember correctly, the viewpoints over what happens to us after death... are as varied here as the worlds we're pulled in from. Reward and punishment, returning to where our spirits belonged in the first place... simply fading into oblivion....

[ She pauses, and a clock fixed to the wall behind her - an antique-looking, wooden piece of work - fills the air with steady ticks and tocks as she takes in a breath or two, looking up and over past the 'camera.' ]

When we die here, we return but a week later... although missing a piece of who we were before. [ Another breath. Tick, tock. ] What do you suppose happens, in the meantime?

Do you believe it is different than 'home?'

[ Sure, she knows this sort of thing's been brought up before, but... if it's ever been in these exact words, she definitely isn't going to waste her time digging through years of others' entries looking for it. ]
thestormishere: (before you break)
[ Lightning surprises herself with how upsetting it is to come back from the draft and see the village torn to pieces like this, not repairing itself like usual. The general destruction is bad enough, but when she gets to house #41... well, chalk up one more emotionally affected by the flood damage to the town's vegetation- the storm has not been kind to the yard-- to Aerith's flowers, which are all but washed away now. When she first sees it, it actually takes a few minutes before she's able to move past it, touching the leafless, lifeless remains of a something-or-another that she's forgotten the name of, her expression unreadable...

- And after she's assessed the damage to the building itself, worked the last couple of days just to make it livable again and helped out with the worst of the destruction throughout the village, the yard of her house right off the town's center is where she is again, walking along the perimeter of the destroyed fence there.

It's not until she's yanked and pulled at a section to try and right it again that she notices something else: beneath it is a rosebush, but despite it too missing its flowers and a good deal of leaves, half-turned over out of its placed in the ground... it's obviously still growing. Still alive. The fallen barrier must have protected it, somehow.

Without a word, she simply shoves the wrecked fence out of the way... and starts trying to upright the abused shrubbery instead.

- A little while later, she wanders back into town, a lot muddier than she usually is. She means to go somewhere else, but funnily enough, she ends up getting distracted by visiting Good Spirits instead, then the smithy, which is all but flattened to the ground. Not a very good place to be if you didn't feel like sustaining some sort of injury due to the high number of unlucky weapons that had been there.

Considering there's nothing to do there too, she's just about to move on when she suddenly pauses, her brow furrowing as she looks at the wreckage; call it yet another case of inexplicable l'Cie intuition, but something stops her. She takes another look.

... There, in the mud and half-hidden by a hunk of twisted metal, is something she's pretty sure she recognizes. With a sudden, obvious sense of urgency, she starts pulling things aside, trying to get closer. ]
thestormishere: (no one else here will save you)
[ After the whole fiasco with having to take down Jack Horner's dragon form, Lightning's been thinking a lot lately-- namely, about her own trouble with maintaining a human form and fallout from failing against her will several months ago- both things which, frankly, she's been trying to avoid.

However, she can't just keep ignoring it forever, can she? Especially considering that ever since then, even if she's continued to grow slowly stronger and is currently safe from the ramifications of an active l'Cie Brand... the 'penalty' she was saddled with makes using her powers a lot harder than how it used to be.

And so she practices, attempting to get a handle on the magic that's there but no longer instinctive like it once was. Healing magic is fairly easy to figure out, the weaker elemental things like Thunder and Water are simple enough if difficult to aim now, but as for the more complicated spells...?

As for learning new ones...?

She can be found alternately in the battle dome and outside near the edges of town quite a bit during these last few days, with and without her gunblade and various other weapons from before and during her time spent here. She's not really doing much actual fighting, though; it's obvious she's trying to do something, concentrating for sometimes minutes at a time, before casting something that just seems to flicker in the air around her, or light up the edges of her weapons with bright-colored energy.

After some time and a lot of deliberation, she turns to the journals. ]


Filtered to her housemates. )

January 2013

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