closed | for want of wit, to memory now i can't recall,

[murderbaby]

WHO: Mhav, Jone, Amos, and some others.
WHAT: This is a catch-all post for some starters I owe.
WHEN: Post-dream, Mid-Guardian.
WHERE: Gallows, Kirkwall generally.
NOTES: I will keep you informed if something horrible happens.

Comments

[truthtied]

They both stand out and admittedly, Diana had hoped for a chance to talk to the woman. Not the least because every inch of her screamed warrior in a way that was comfortingly familiar.

"Themysciran," she corrects automatically, then smiles, "Or Rifter, for intents and purposes. Though I prefer to be called Diana."

[poleaxed]

"Yeah, I'll be sticking with that last one, it has an amount of syllables I can reckon with."

Warrior is fine, though the general sense people tend to get from Jone is gobshite.

"How'd they fight, in... wherever the fuck you said you was from?"

[truthtied]

"Themyscira," she says helpfully, "All of us were trained in sword and shield work and hand to hand. I never quite mastered weaponry with a longer range." She indicates Jone's poleaxe. "Why do you ask?"

[poleaxed]

"'Cos birds're in short supply on the field, 'specially the tall sort, so most of us end up coming to our own styles to suit." She picks up her poleaxe, balances the heft in her hand from memory more than reason. "Swords'n shields're just everybody with the right number of arms, though."

[truthtied]

It takes her a moment to parse the slang, but when she does: "Do you not have women armies here?"

They weren't terribly prevalent in Diana's world either, but still. A small dwindling part hopes that some version of Themyscira exists in this world.

[poleaxed]

"Uh, there are women in armies. Never run the numbers; I'm not much for armies in general."

Soldier's pay is even worse than Riftwatch pay.

[truthtied]

A little more hope fades off. Such is the way of it. But nevermind.

"Do you prefer to fight alone?"

[poleaxed]

That's Jone's job, ennit. Eroding the hope that makes people take unnecessary risks. At least, when she's feeling poetic (when she's feeling the urge to self-justify), that's what she comes up with.

"I prefer to win," she says, "you're new, like? This war's been going on for five bloody years."

[truthtied]

"Such is the nature of war at times," says Diana. Ares would be pleased is a thought that comes with distant unease. "I was given to understand there were several other ongoing conflicts before Corypheus' rise. I imagine shifting the focus to a single and more unified force took some time."

She has never considered herself the sort of leader who could command armies for that reason. Even when she was helping stage a rebellion, she'd preferred her small crew over joining a larger force.

[poleaxed]

"Yeah, it was a bloody terror," Jone says, refusing to let the images in her mind flicker back to the scenes of carnage she'd passed through-- or caused. "Guess I'm not much a joiner, me."

[truthtied]

There are questions she could ask. If this were another world, perhaps she would (and she misses Artemis with an unexpected intensity). Instead she says, "Then I will be thankful for whatever brought you to Riftwatch." And tips her head toward the sparring ring, "Does not being a joiner extend to sparring?"

[poleaxed]

A grin lights Jone's face. Finally, this conversation is turning. "I run the training grounds- with a friend. I'm always ready for a good spar."

[truthtied]

"Good," Diana says, with an answering smile, all eager delight, "It's been some time since I've had one myself." She is a little more sure of her bodies limits, but it would be good to test that against someone who knows how to fight hard.