[Diana doesn't make it back to the safehouse as often as she ought now that she lives on her own. But it's important, she thinks, to get to know the new displaced. If not their life stories, then at least their faces. The Fates, it seems, have a way of bringing them all together anyway, so she thinks it prudent to be able to recognize them in a crowd. But it's difficult coming back to this public space; she values her privacy, always has since she left the island. Memories of the barracks where she lived during her training, pushed into close quarters with other soldiers of the legion, are both fond and bitter. She'd been raised a princess, given almost anything she could have asked, and learning to readjust had been a trial for both her and Antiope.
Her ears, still keen from her Amazon blood, pick up the sound of someone approaching, but she thinks nothing of it. She's intent upon the task before her--figuring out what she might buy and bring to stock up the commonly used items. Now that she has any amount of disposable income, it seems the very least she can do. She might not agree with everything Morningstar does, but she isn't going to leave them wanting if she can help it.
What she doesn't expect is the person to run right into her. Briefly, their hands brush; her immediate reaction is shock, followed by an immediate mix of sympathy and compassion. It isn't easy being here, she knows that for a fact. It's even harder to get used to one's emotions being on display thanks to something as small as skin-to-skin contact. She takes a step away, giving the both of them space. His frustration hasn't escaped her attention, and that is definitely a feeling she knows well.
She raises a hand, palm out, a placating and dismissive gesture. Her voice, when she speaks, is even with an underlying current of kindness.]
It's alright.
[She means it, and tries to make him believe her with the small smile that flicks over her lips.]
There isn't much room here. It happens more often than you might think.
01.
Her ears, still keen from her Amazon blood, pick up the sound of someone approaching, but she thinks nothing of it. She's intent upon the task before her--figuring out what she might buy and bring to stock up the commonly used items. Now that she has any amount of disposable income, it seems the very least she can do. She might not agree with everything Morningstar does, but she isn't going to leave them wanting if she can help it.
What she doesn't expect is the person to run right into her. Briefly, their hands brush; her immediate reaction is shock, followed by an immediate mix of sympathy and compassion. It isn't easy being here, she knows that for a fact. It's even harder to get used to one's emotions being on display thanks to something as small as skin-to-skin contact. She takes a step away, giving the both of them space. His frustration hasn't escaped her attention, and that is definitely a feeling she knows well.
She raises a hand, palm out, a placating and dismissive gesture. Her voice, when she speaks, is even with an underlying current of kindness.]
It's alright.
[She means it, and tries to make him believe her with the small smile that flicks over her lips.]
There isn't much room here. It happens more often than you might think.