The night air was warm, but the wind coming off the ocean was cool. Distant storm systems sent the smell of ozone and gusts of salty wind up into the trees. They might never make landfall, if the island was truly one of the two only actual landmasses in what seemed to be an endless, looping world of ocean. She sort of hoped one would, but the feel of the storms, the smell of them was good enough for the time being.

It wasn't her usual activity, granted- she'd been good about not sleeping alone, something made easier by giving up the ghost and going back to Spike the way she'd wanted to, anyway- but it had been a trying week, and her head and her heart were roiling like the far-off clouds. She couldn't center herself, couldn't console herself, so she'd slipped out into the dark, a woven cotton blanket wrapped around her body, and gone to the top of the waterfall.

The view was different in the dark. The sky wasn't crystal clear, the moonlight filtered, muted ever now and then by a passing veneer of cloud, but the water and the canopy moving in the breeze still glittered in the light. It looked like a world carved out of obsidian. Beautiful, and not still, but quiet.

Breathing deeply, feeling the wind pick up, carrying mist from the waterfall's spray upward with it, Rogue slipped the blanket from her shoulders and tilted her face toward the sky. The elements might not have been hers to control, but they were still hers to feel, and their enormity and immediacy filled her senses and cleared her head.