♦{ｃｒｙｓｔａｌ ✶ ｃｏｍａｔｏｓｅ }♦
The world is eerily silent as Lightning stares down at the land of Gran Pulse through the gash in Cocoon's siding. The inner shell of the slowly breaking orb feels more like a tomb than a shield, as it did so long ago and a shiver runs through the former l'Cie's body. Everything is broken, glass shards crunching beneath leather boots as she turns away from the shadows falling over Pulse's surface. The herds of small shadow creatures have become more frequent and there's a voice whispering in her head to give up, but she can't, she won't, because she's so sick of watching people die and this has to stop. She follows long forgotten steps up into what was once an intricate church, now falling apart with broken lights hanging eerily from above, casting shadows in place of their usual brightness. Without the Fal'Cie, the power is gone and the world decaying, the only thing holding the world up at all are the two pillars beneath Cocoon, her two friends sleeping soundly below her. There's a marble seat in the middle of a stage, a crumbling alter before it and she stops her movements before the stone platform, azure optics staring blankly at the throne with gloved extremities curling into fists at her sides. She's aware of what she has to do, she has been for quite some time and it was that decision that brought here here in the first place. But now, standing here, a wave of unease took over her and while she did not fall, her body shook, eyes closing to block out the scenery around them. Lightning thinks, if she concentrates, she can hear the screaming of the terrified civilians down below, fighting for their lives on Gran Pulse and for a moment she feels like a coward. If this doesn't work, if she's wrong, she's spent over a day getting here for nothing, and lives were cost in vain. It's a sickening thought and she hates it, but it wont leave her mind despite how hard she pushes it away.
The wind that blows around her, sudden and coming from seemingly nowhere, seems to whisper and her eyes snap open, the voice of an often forgotten deity filling her mind. Her legs move without her consent, but she knows further delay will only prove more costly than not trying at all, and she allows herself to be guided to the cracking throne, halting only a moment when she finds her knees tapping against the cold structure. Blue hues take in the object that will serve as her tomb, her monument, for as long as this war rages on below her and she takes a deep breath, ivory fingers reaching out and curling around one of the armrests. It's freezing and a chill runs up her spine, but it's too late to back out and she wants this; she wants to save them, and if Etro's voice tells her this is the way, assures that she is right, who is she to disobey? Lightning turns, facing the front doors of the church now, with the seat behind her and she breathes out, a steady exhale as she takes in her surroundings one last time before sinking down into the chair behind her. Legs cross, left over right and eyes close once more as breathing slows down, becomes unnecessary and she can feel her skin turning to crystal. Surprisingly, there is no moment of panic or unease. All of that melts away and she's left feeling calm, the voices of the tormented finally fading from her mind and the world seems to simply cease. Time has stopped, her body a broken gear in the clockwork of eternity, stalling the twitching hands until someone comes to wake her and end still dream, returning the world to it's former nightmare. Only when she wakes, she will understand how to fight, and she will know who her allies are.
In a world there time has ceased to exist, and darkness has been forced to a standstill, you will find a warrior, a soldier, awaiting the call of an ally to bring the shadows to an end. Go to her, Riku, and assist in a battle that my chosen one cannot fight alone. Find her in Cocoon, a floating wasteland above a wild world. Be quick; she must not sleep forever.
Etro's voice is speaking once more and Lightning is aware that this time, it is not talking to her and as her consciousness fades, she finds herself wondering if someone truly will come to wake her, or if this boy will retreat to the safety of his own world like a coward. People are rarely strong, they break easy, and if her lips had been able to move she would have scoffed. But she would wait, regardless, as long as it took, until someone came to awaken her and stop the endless war going on down below. The name of the boy that is chosen falls deaf on her ears, and she feels as though it would not matter regardless; Etro's words were not intended for her, and thus would be wiped from her mind upon her moment of waking. If, and when, that moment came, of course. The last of the shining crystals take hold over her body, creating a beautiful, crystalline structure, encasing not only her but the throne as well, the human and the object of divinity, of royalty, both falling into a place holding slumber, awaiting time itself to be brought back from the brink of a halted eternity.