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watchtower_rebirthThere are few simpler pleasures in the world than basking in the warmth of the sunlight. Given how dark and stormy the world has been lately - how full of turmoil and doubt, with things that were and things that are at war with one another - it’s this simple pleasure that Diana Prince chooses to focus on as she stands by the Bethesda Fountain in Central Park. She breathes in deeply, holds her breath, and then exhales. So much seems to have changed lately. A mosaic of memories and moments shift in and out of her mind as she tries to sort through what was, what is, and what was never. It seems more difficult than it ought to. Even when she used her golden lasso of truth on herself, none of it truly rang false.
But what does it mean? Diana isn’t sure. She knows she’s the daughter of Hippolyta, moulded from the clay of Themyscira, given life and gifts by her patrons from the Olympian pantheon. She knows that she has been an avatar of Truth and the embodiment of War. She has been a princess, a spy, an ambassador, a daughter, a friend, a leader, a partner, and, among so many other roles, a sister. Yet, each one of those roles, each one of those things that made her who she was, lately they had felt all disjointed.
It isn’t a feeling Diana much cares for. Diana who had always been centered and sure. Diana who had always known what the truth was. It was that same Diana who now struggles to see past the lies which cloud her clarity.
There were, of course, some things that were absolutely clear. Clark was dead. The Clark who had been a large part of her life, anyhow. She was no longer War. She cared more now for Steve Trevor than she would have previously admitted. She needed her sister.
It was this last thing that had brought Diana to Central Park. She had extended an invitation to Donna Troy, to her sister, to meet, to catch up, to reconnect. They were sisters. Family. For too long, they had been separated by one thing or another. Diana was determined to not let that continue.
Diana opens her eyes, her lips curving in a warm, welcoming smile. She is all too aware that people mill about her, taking pictures, watching her, wondering why she was here, who she was to meet. She hears the murmurs of the crowd, she sees the people waving, and she waves back, returning the warmth they so willingly extend towards her. To those who approach her, Diana makes friendly conversation, drawing them in as though they are old, cherished acquaintances. To those who asks, Diana poses for a picture or gave an autograph. She loves this - talking to people, interacting them, getting to know them. It fills her with an immense amount of joy. It;s never about the adulation, about the way they look at her with a sense of worship in their eyes. It’s about connecting with the world around her - connecting in the way that she hopes she can with her sister. Her eyes gently sweep the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of the woman who she so sorely missed today. Donna will be here soon, she knows. Diana is, as always, terribly early.
But what does it mean? Diana isn’t sure. She knows she’s the daughter of Hippolyta, moulded from the clay of Themyscira, given life and gifts by her patrons from the Olympian pantheon. She knows that she has been an avatar of Truth and the embodiment of War. She has been a princess, a spy, an ambassador, a daughter, a friend, a leader, a partner, and, among so many other roles, a sister. Yet, each one of those roles, each one of those things that made her who she was, lately they had felt all disjointed.
It isn’t a feeling Diana much cares for. Diana who had always been centered and sure. Diana who had always known what the truth was. It was that same Diana who now struggles to see past the lies which cloud her clarity.
There were, of course, some things that were absolutely clear. Clark was dead. The Clark who had been a large part of her life, anyhow. She was no longer War. She cared more now for Steve Trevor than she would have previously admitted. She needed her sister.
It was this last thing that had brought Diana to Central Park. She had extended an invitation to Donna Troy, to her sister, to meet, to catch up, to reconnect. They were sisters. Family. For too long, they had been separated by one thing or another. Diana was determined to not let that continue.
Diana opens her eyes, her lips curving in a warm, welcoming smile. She is all too aware that people mill about her, taking pictures, watching her, wondering why she was here, who she was to meet. She hears the murmurs of the crowd, she sees the people waving, and she waves back, returning the warmth they so willingly extend towards her. To those who approach her, Diana makes friendly conversation, drawing them in as though they are old, cherished acquaintances. To those who asks, Diana poses for a picture or gave an autograph. She loves this - talking to people, interacting them, getting to know them. It fills her with an immense amount of joy. It;s never about the adulation, about the way they look at her with a sense of worship in their eyes. It’s about connecting with the world around her - connecting in the way that she hopes she can with her sister. Her eyes gently sweep the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of the woman who she so sorely missed today. Donna will be here soon, she knows. Diana is, as always, terribly early.
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Date: 2016-12-06 04:28 am (UTC)Never again, she silently promises herself as her hand gently grazes over the golden lariat of truth hanging off of her slim vegan brown belt. Ultimately, as always, Diana lets go of fear and sadness and embraces pride and joy instead.
She's never been one for loud, joyous eruptions, or girlish squeals. Even despite all of the warmth and love that she effuses, Diana still tends to be somewhat reserved at the best of times. Reserved, but never cold.
"Sister!" she says brightly. With a tear or two shining in her eye, she makes her way towards Donna.
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Date: 2016-12-07 04:13 am (UTC)For too long, she'd been playing the role of the tortured warrior, only ever letting anger or pain cross her face. She couldn't remember the last time that she'd smiled, truly felt happiness and joy. She'd missed them. Having these feelings restored to her felt nice.
Donna felt like a child again, seeing her sister after being apart from her for a long period of time. She certainly didn't mind the feeling. And she honestly didn't care as she bolted through the crowd, running towards her sister to wrap her arms around her, tears of joy streaming down her face as she did.
Donna didn't have any words yet. She just wanted to feel comforted and loved by the person she cared about most in the world.
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Date: 2016-12-07 06:37 am (UTC)"I have missed you so much," Diana said, her voice soft, her tone warm. She reaches up and twists back a lock of Donna's hair and then drops her arms to Donna's shoulders. She squeezes them, almost as though to make sure that Donna's not just an illusion that's been created by one of Diana's more mystically bent villains. "I hope you will forgive me for everything that transpired between us. The anger, the war. The hatred, the competition. I never wanted that for us. It is never who we have been, and yet..." Diana trails off. They had been pitted against each other. Lied to. Deceived. Another lie among many that Diana had yet to cut through.
"It does not matter. How have you been?"
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Date: 2016-12-15 09:32 pm (UTC)"I just hope you can forgive me, too," Donna said, "I can't believe I did that to you. You're my sister. I love you more than anything else in this whole world."
She smiled. "I'm better, now that I'm with you again."
no subject
Date: 2016-12-16 04:20 am (UTC)"I am better too, I must confess. The emptiness I felt inside...it is no longer as empty." She smiled warmly at her sister. "We have much to catch up on. Perhaps over lunch?"