(Video | UN: blinded.by.light)

[soulsflight]

(Claire is slightly out of breath and she is wearing an outfit that is a far cry from the one she arrived in. She leans against what looks like a stone pillar, stretching out the muscles in her back.)

I could use an opponent. I can spar all I like against myself, but that won't do me much good.

(Just keep in mind, even without magical powers, she can handle herself just fine. After dusting off her hands, she picks up the communicator and pans the picture, showing that she is right on the edge of the main civilization.)

Bring a weapon. I don't want to be the cause of some tragedy. (Though she will look out for whoever answers her call. This is just her version of "tough love".)

Comments

[northerndragon]

[He seems vaguely, privately, ruefully amused by this, but doesn't explain why. It's that he's been training since the time he could walk, and he's trained others, and for the most part, live steel won't be a danger.

What he isn't is smug, in face or voice.]

Oh, I have good control.

But be sure your sword is up to it; mine is Valyrian steel. Harder and lighter than you might have seen before, and it retains its edge better than ordinary steel. I don't want to destroy a sword someone can't easily replace.

What should I call you? I'm Jon Snow.

[soulsflight]

(Claire joined the Guardian Corps as a teenager - after the death of her parents - and she has wielded all sorts of weapons in various scenarios spanning five hundred years since then. She can deal with smug.)

Glad to hear it. (Have a helping of sarcasm, Jon.) I'd like to see what it can do. I've brought several types of swords with me, so if you cut through one of them, I have a back up.

I'm...Lightning. (She just isn't ready to say her given name. These circumstances feel too much like the world she left behind.)