Fighting without hope is no way to live.
It's just a way to die.
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strikeoflightning: ({Depression})
{It's late at night - it might even be bordering on early morning - and Lightning is sitting in her kitchen, holding a mug of steaming tea between her hands. Her head is bowed, emphasizing how long her pink hair has gotten. She glances at the strands occasionally, her brow furrowing.}

I am in need of a hair-cut. {While she doesn't doubt that she could get it to a feasible length, she wonders if it would look good. It takes skill and practice to style hair.}

The last time I wore my hair this long, I was only a child. {And some memories are best left alone. She takes a generous sip of tea and swallows it, letting the heat burn her tongue and throat.}

I pretend to have unwavering strength; I have been granted a chance for redemption by one of the gods of my world. That chance gave me confidence and hope in the future.

{Her fingers flex around her tea cup and her expression is troubled. The gifts Etro gave her haven't translated well to Luceti.}

What will Luceti's future hold? Will all of our efforts be rewarded? Regardless of the answer, I cannot - will not - admit defeat. My future holds my family and my friends.

{It's probably clear that she lives alone. Her house is very quiet.}

We will be joined in a world without war and devastation. I will keep the Chaos in check.
strikeoflightning: ({Vivid})

{Her armor is back in order thanks to the skillful hands of the blacksmiths in the village. They have also cut out space for her wings, which were quite sore after the battle. She considered - briefly - keeping her new appendages covered, but in the end she decided to keep a closer eye on enemies coming at her from behind. The wings are troublesome enough without pushing them against unyielding metal.

After examining the finer aspects of the blacksmiths' handiwork, Lightning exits the shop with the armor slung over her shoulder. She is wearing a sleeveless black shirt - which doesn't completely hide the hint of a bandage wrapped around her abdomen - and tan pants. Yet, even with an obvious injury, she holds herself with strength, keeping her posture pristine.

As she walks down the street, she scans the crowd, offering a small smile as greeting to anyone who glances her way. Feel free to cross her path or call to get her attention!}


{This video occurs sometime later. The light is dim outside and Lightning is leaning over her journal, her voice low and calm.}

Our strength is returning. Pay your respects to those that are lost and return to your training. I will offer lessons starting next week. Contact me with a time that is suitable to you and I will reserve a space in the stadium. Also, tell me which weapon you prefer.

{She is confident in her ability to spar with just about any weapon - thus it really is up to the student.}
strikeoflightning: ({Stiff})
{Lightning shrugs off battered and dented armor, revealing a bandage wrapped around her abdomen. Blood has stained the material and she is already in the process of finding some fresh bandages.}

There were no answers given. Lives were lost and what did it mean? {Her voice is rougher, hoarser as she slams a fist against a table.} Sacrifices are tragic by themselves, but sacrifices without meaning are even worse.

{She grabs a bottle and takes a swig before slowly unwinding the bandage.}

I'm in need of a Healer. The blade was buried deep.
strikeoflightning: ({Arms Crossed})
{Lightning is pinning a list to one of the walls in the home she shares with Serah. A small smirk follows a re-read of what she has in store for her little sister. She wants her to be prepared for anything. Gods know, she needs to be.}

Are you prepared for tomorrow? {That question is directed at the village in general. For the moment, Lightning is without her armor, but she still possesses the mind of a warrior. Her ideology is a form of armor that she will never shed.} Expect the best; prepare for the worst.

I am seeing to my sister's training, yet I could [and would] make time for more students should the need arise. I require no payment; I want the village armed against the unknown.

We live to make the impossible possible. {Her smirk returns, though it is filled with pride this time rather than mischief.}
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