![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
06 [voice/action]
Jul. 18th, 2014 10:24 pm[The moment those upcoming missions were announced, Jean knew he would volunteer. He has the habit of pulling the weight of responsibility down on himself, out of a need to not be caught standing still. The mission to Pagoda should be the obvious choice, when he's already seen more corpses than he cares to count, but he thinks he owes something to the dead and he doesn't want fear to be enough of a reason to stop him. And so, the unmade decision teeters in his mind.
The idea of rebuilding, and the destruction that inherently goes before it, gets him thinking about something else that's been sitting on his mind lately. He addresses the journal network with the sort of dogged formality that has been drilled into him by a military life, and the prickly awkwardness of a young man who prefers not to ask for too much help.]
I have a question for anyone who uses magic here. I learned some about the spirits - the filial spirits - at school here, and I've been trying to make contact with them. Mostly the healing spirit, Nala...it'd be useful to be able to do some first aid without needing to have a kit on hand. [His mind is on the battlefield, which hasn't left him since he stepped off of it months ago.] I haven't had much luck, though.
[That, or he just doesn't have the right head for this stuff.]
What I'm asking is, anyone have any tips? About what worked for you, or...anything like that. I'd like to hear it.
Thanks.
[Action]
[Jean, being very much human, is a creature of habit. In the morning, he can be found at the Battle Dome. Need a training partner? Despite the persistent look of having had someone piss in his toast and eggs, he's approachable enough. Honest. Second floor spectators might spot him slinging himself through the air and doing flips and shit with what looks like a complicated system of grappling lines that he's strapped into via an equally complicated harness. Also in the morning, and again in the afternoon, the equine-minded might bump into him at the stables alongside his black Friesian.
At some point, he ends up on the cherry blossom tree hill tucked away just north of the village. Breaking news, fucking loser at most romantic spot in town all by himself. But he has his sketchbook, and he's here to practice landscapes. Something to distract himself with. ...Except while he's got his head bent over the page, the damn trees lose all their leaves like it's suddenly winter - with no autumn in between to buffer the change - and then they blink out of existence entirely. Left behind is a naked hill and a bewildered Jean.]
The idea of rebuilding, and the destruction that inherently goes before it, gets him thinking about something else that's been sitting on his mind lately. He addresses the journal network with the sort of dogged formality that has been drilled into him by a military life, and the prickly awkwardness of a young man who prefers not to ask for too much help.]
I have a question for anyone who uses magic here. I learned some about the spirits - the filial spirits - at school here, and I've been trying to make contact with them. Mostly the healing spirit, Nala...it'd be useful to be able to do some first aid without needing to have a kit on hand. [His mind is on the battlefield, which hasn't left him since he stepped off of it months ago.] I haven't had much luck, though.
[That, or he just doesn't have the right head for this stuff.]
What I'm asking is, anyone have any tips? About what worked for you, or...anything like that. I'd like to hear it.
Thanks.
[Action]
[Jean, being very much human, is a creature of habit. In the morning, he can be found at the Battle Dome. Need a training partner? Despite the persistent look of having had someone piss in his toast and eggs, he's approachable enough. Honest. Second floor spectators might spot him slinging himself through the air and doing flips and shit with what looks like a complicated system of grappling lines that he's strapped into via an equally complicated harness. Also in the morning, and again in the afternoon, the equine-minded might bump into him at the stables alongside his black Friesian.
At some point, he ends up on the cherry blossom tree hill tucked away just north of the village. Breaking news, fucking loser at most romantic spot in town all by himself. But he has his sketchbook, and he's here to practice landscapes. Something to distract himself with. ...Except while he's got his head bent over the page, the damn trees lose all their leaves like it's suddenly winter - with no autumn in between to buffer the change - and then they blink out of existence entirely. Left behind is a naked hill and a bewildered Jean.]
