The Unnatural Disasters

1,p1. All the reasons not to trust strange women: Lazuli

Lazuli
"Lazuli Parkman, log one. investigating the effects on myself after the... incident that happened three weeks ago at the Olivell Caves system in Rome."
Incident. I'm still calling it that. Even to nobody but myself and a camera, in a locked room, in an otherwise empty house: I still don't want to admit about what happened. Don't want to say that that cave talked, or the walls moved... no. At my core, I'm a scientist. That's why I'm doing this, right? Bringing ration, even to the unreasonable.
"Documenting first, the most obvious effect- the scar on the left of my face."
I stroke the scarring, and whatever strange camouflage that was on it comes off. I remember the first time I did that- standing in the hospital ward by the mirror, nearly screaming at the flash of blue.
"As you can see, it reaches from my left temple, through my cheek and ends near my mouth. And, yes..." I have no idea how to finish that sentence; hell, I have no idea how to describe any of this. The fact that I have a literal bedazzled scar, and I have no idea where it came from or how it works. "As you can see", I say placidly, trying to pretend that I am not mentally screaming, "the scarring appears to have somehow grown a layer of Lapis Lazuli- my namesake. Ironic. It resembles a vein of rock in my skin. As I have learned, this can be hidden, so that it resembles a normal scar, by me."

The camera's little light blinks at me. I wonder- is it judging, or approving?
Wait. Damn. it's a camera, an inanimate object, and therefore probably not feeling any particular emotion right now. Evidently, I am going insane. Well, that would certainly account for a lot of things.

I stare back at its little lense; I should be using my phone for this. But I put my phone into the rock polisher two weeks ago and it hadn't worked the same since; I'm narrating my confusion via the camera I got for Christmas instead. I shake my head, clear my thoughts, and continue.
"The second effect: well. It's-"
once again, I don't know what to say. it's pretty difficult to explain, well, anything about what happened that day. but this? isn't exactly normal, no, not by any kind of long shot you have. I glance round, take a deep breath, and-
And now several things happen at once, so I'll explain them all in what's probably chronological order.

1. I grab one of the rings off my fingers: the one with the diamond in. Heart-shaped and given to me by my parents for my tenth birthday.
2. The door begins to open.
3. Not noticing this, I bring the ring closer to the camera. What if I can't do it now? One whisper says. What if you're in a padded cell right now, hallucinating? What then?
4. The door continues to open, in a very slow and inefficient manner.
Still paying no attention, I tell my thoughts to shut up, because- look, I feel like I know how to do this. Just like I did the last time. And the time before that. And all those over times, trying to convince myself that I'm not drugged or dreaming.
5. The door opens. I look into the eyes of a woman I've never met before, and now I'm there, and she's there, and we both notice at the same time, and so, suddenly-
6. There's a diamond pointed at her throat, morphed into some bizarre pointed shape, wielded by me.
I look up at the woman. She seems entirely uncaring about the diamond icicle at her throat, or that that I had just morphed said diamond icicle out of a ring bought for a ten-year-old, or the fact that a thirteen year old boy in glasses and a pug jumper is trying to aim a potentially lethal weapon at her pharynx.
"Sorry!" I exclaim. "Still trying to get used to that." I put the diamond back into what I hope is its original shape. That was one of the things I've found out about whatever the hell I can do now: once I've changed a gem's shape, it doesn't go back.
Which brings me down to the more pressing question on my mind.
"Who the hell are you?"
Now my attention's not on the stabby murder crystal in hand, I actually notice the woman in front of me. The first thing I notice about her is the fact that there's nothing really noticeable about her, whatsoever. Face, nose, lips, eyes, body. Utterly nondescript.
I tug on one of my cornrows. I tend to do that when I'm thinking, pretty sure I look insane while doing maths because of it. The gravity and general ridiculousness of the situation dawns on me. Here's a random woman, in my house, in my bedroom, standing unnervingly close to me. What's going to come of this? Murder? Kidnapping? Underage porn?
I'm not really sure I want to know. But she begins to speak, and no matter my feelings, she's going to tell me. Rude.
The woman makes fierce, worrying, I'm-going-to-cut-you-in-half-with-my-eyes-alone style eye contact at me.
She speaks.
"Lazuli Parkman: would you use your powers for good?"