4966/Sweet Dreams are Made of This

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Sweet Dreams are Made of This
Date of Scene: 01 February 2021
Location: Dreams
Synopsis: The Themysciran royal family shares a dream. Even one who's dead.
Cast of Characters: Donna Troy, Diana Prince, 1581




Donna Troy has posed:
    After exchanging a few words with Eponia and the pair of palace guards Hippolyta has sent to guard Diana while she's in a coma, Troia enters the room where Diana lies sleeping, unable to awaken. She is wearing, for the first time in five months, her old Troia armor - a spare set which has spent the last six years in the room of costumes in Titan's Tower memorial room. After her main set had been destroyed she had decided it was time to move on from that armor, but this is a special circumstance, and given the threat that Cassie's doppelganger represents, it seemed prudent. She has considered, but not yet decided on, wearing Diana's golden armor for any showdown. She does however have two lassos with her.

    Troia has spent an exhausting time searching everywhere she can think of for Helena and for DoppelCassie, but with no luck. She looks down at her sleeping sister, gives a long sigh, and pulls up a chair to sit down beside the bed. She takes one of the lassos from her belt - the borrowed on, Diana's own lasso, and sets it by Diana on the bed, and stares down at a piece of paper in her hands, re-reading it for the fourth time. A message from their mother, Queen Hippolyta, recently delivered.

    The message isn't exactly a refusal, so much as a reminder. Hippolyta had told Troia in the letter to ask again -- after asking herself what her motivations for requesting the god-killer sword really were. She knows exactly what her motivations were. DoppelCassie had hurt Diana badly. DoppelCassie had to die.

    It's not what Diana would want. It's not the Amazon way. It's not how Troia should be thinking. Troia knows it. She sighs softly, folds the note, and tucks it away in her armor. She will not be asking again.

    Troia mutters "You've outplayed me again, mother," and sighs softly. She looks back to her sister, taking Diana's hand in her own, and sits quietly. After a few moments her face creases, and she sniffs loudly. She leans down, resting her head on Diana's shoulder, her mind drifting back to the days shortly after she had arrived in America a decade ago, when she had been living with Diana in New York. When they would often sit together on Diana's sofa in the evenings to talk about their days, and the comfort of her sister's shoulder was all that had stopped Troia from running home with her tail between her legs. Her fingers toy with one end of the lasso on Diana's bed, and slowly Troia too drifts off into sleep.

    Diana sleeps, a deeper sleep than she has ever slept before.

    Next to her, her heart and mind in turmoil, Donna sleeps.

    Far away in Themyscira, troubled by the knowledge of what has happened to Diana, Hippolyta too sleeps fitfully.

    Diana's lasso, the lasso of Hestia, glows faintly in the darkness under Troia's fingers. A coil touches the skin of Diana's arm. And through some extension of the lasso that exists not in the physical world but in the realm of pure Truth, it touches its first wielder too, Queen Hippolyta, back on Themyscira.

Diana Prince has posed:
Diana's healing factor is in embroiled in a conflict with the dark magic poison of doppleCassie's armor. The armor effect is meant to rot a body away, after seizing control of its prey's mind, but Diana's power is strong and it's fighting back against the wounds and the poison inflicted through them.

But it's put Diana in a place of her own, a series of 'happy places' that are swirling and altering, periodically, keeping the Princess' mind occupied while the effects of the war her body is fighting continue to change and shift.

In the now, with the divine power of the lasso influencing her condition even if but a little... Diana is in a happy place.

Themyscira.

One of the greatest joys of the Princess' many years on her home island, was to ride her horses through the fields. She loved to run through the tall grass, the swaying flowers, and across the coastlines.

This is where the Princess is returning from, in the now, her horse 'Arrow' galloping down one of the trails leading back toward the royal stables. Atop the horse, the Princess sits, wearing a set of her golden training armor, with white flowing skirt and leather accessories.

She has her eyes closed as the horse moves at a casual pace, the sun shining through the leaves of the trees and dancing across her face as she seems lost in thought...

Donna Troy has posed:
    Eyes are not the only sense available, and Philippus would look very disappointed if she thought all those years of training had not instilled in Diana a considerable awareness of her situation through hearing alone.

    Diana hears motion in the trees by the trail. At first it's nothing that can't be dismissed as some animal moving through the undergrowth, but after a short while it becomes clear the the movement is pacing her. Someone is following her, just out of sight, in the treeline. Someone who can move through the woods as fast as a horse. Listening more closely, Diana can hear the breathing of her pursuit, and then an odd but familiar sense. She knows she is being hunted, but she knows the hunter bears her no ill-will. It's 'her little shadow' as some of the sisters had taken to referring to Troia since Diana had returned and found to her great surprise that she had a kid sister. The adopted sister so much like Diana herself once was, who Diana must never reveal is actually her cousin. The child who was strangely wary of Diana when they first met, but over the months decided Diana was the best thing ever and followed her around the island. Diana has found that she can sense Troia's moods with an odd clarity.

    No, that's not right. That was a different time. Troia is older now. Troia is Donna now. Forget the fact that Troia isn't born yet, that there will be no Donna for the best part of a century, that just doesn't seem to be relevant.

    The trees start to thin as Diana approaches the palace, and suddenly, with a joyful laugh, Donna comes leaping out from cover. Donna at about sixteen. She springs over Diana, swinging a bird net to try to trap her sister with, landing on the dirt path with a roll. She leaps to her feet grinning wide, to see if she'd managed to catch Diana.

     Arrow, faithful and steady, is not the least bothered by all of this.

Diana Prince has posed:
Diana's mental state isn't precisely one of full lucidity. She's not entirely self aware of her situation, as the happiness that she feels in the moment's she's experiencing have lead her to simply be content in the basking of the 'sun rays' in any given situation she's been in since being in this coma.

In this instance, she's fully aware of her sister's approach, and the net trap that is being prepared for her isn't... stopped. She does, however, have a grin spread across her face a mere /moment/ before the net falls around her-- though Donna likely doesn't see it.

The melodic laugh of her big sister is soon to follow Donna's own, and the sight Donna is rewarded with is her sister effectively netted on her horse with her eyes open now and her hands coming up in front of her to try to gain some sense of understanding of her new predicament.

"Oh by the Goddess, what has become of my place in this world now?" Diana says in an over dramatic tone of her otherwise amused voice. She looks to her right hand, to her left, and her fingers wiggle out through the holes in the net.

"Ahhhh, I will surely never escape this finely laid trap!" Diana leans forward then. "Arrow, how could you let this happen to me?" She asks the horse, who merely nickers back at the Princess mounted on the saddle upon his back. The horse flicks his nose up and shakes his head as he keeps walking though.

"Who has done this to me?" Diana calls out, looking around dramatically now. "Show yourself, at once!"

Hippolyta (1581) has posed:
Hippolyta faded from the waking world with an uneasy mind, and she finds herself in an equally uneasy frame of mind as the world of dreams unfolds around her.

She is not certain, precisely, what is the source of her discontent. Her only clear impulse is to seek clear skies and fresh air, and so she is soon seen not far from the stables on her blinding white horse, Astrion, her purple garments billowing about her as she rides.

Fresh on her mind is the Pact, the oath which she swore and by which she may never reveal to her daughter the truth of her origin. She doesn't know they reason for which this should weigh heavily on her now, as she has seen her daugher grow into a young woman and made her peace with the secret she must withhold- a secret that has been concealed with craft and cunning so as to not fall prey to the gift of truthsense.

But wait. She does know why it weighs on her so- for her other daughter is grieviously wounded, and Troia is in turmoil.

But she is now a vision in white and gold, her habitual riding outfit, and riding upon her black steed, Aethon, who would in turn sire Astrion, several years from now.

She smiles as she comes into view of the two princesses. "It seems that my daughter has been gravely wounded," she says with a light-hearted tone to her voice, "Perhaps I should call for Eponia on the spot?" Troia's youthfulness brought out a certain levity in the queen that had been rather subdued during Diana's absence. It was as if immortals needed to be reminded of the euphoria of youthfulness long past to them.

Donna Troy has posed:
    The ten-year old Troia that Diana had first met would have been delighted at her victory, her active imagination able to believe it was real at the same time as recognizing that it was not. The Donna who is six or possibly sixteen years older is not fooled nor was expecting any more than a laugh out of the encounter. "You're so silly, sister, she says, walking around the front of Arrow with a handful of grass to compensate the horse for his patience and taking his reigns to draw him to a halt. "There may be none on Themyscira who can match you with a sword, but you were not born for the stage."

    Donna stares up at Diana for a few moments with a very serious expression that is definitely more ten-year-old Troia, but then again burst into a fit of laughter that is much more the older Donna.

     "I have to admit, sister, that I did not think you so easily defeated!" Donna declares as Hippolyta is coming into view. "Do not blame Arrow for your oversight! He is an ever-faithful friend to you. You are just far too trusting! Suppose your assailant had not been your little sister, but someone of ill-intent, pretending to be her?" she teases.

    She turns to the queen, still holding Arrow's reigns, smiling happily at the unexpected family reunion. "Mother!" she calls out, grinning happily in the sunshine. "I am sure there is no need to trouble Eponia. What could ever hurt Diana?"

    What could ever hurt Diana? Troia turns to look at her sister, and her smile falls and gives way to an expression of shock. "D-Diana?" she says in a small voice. She drops the reigns, her face white, and backs away. "Diana? Di? Please... don't..." she backs away a couple more steps, her head turning to glance quickly at Hippolyta, checking to see if she's still there, to see if their mother is seeing the same thing she is, then turns back. "I'm... I'm sorry Diana. I should have... I didn't... please Diana. I'll make this right. I will, I promise... Mother, yes call Eponia, we have to... quickly! Please Diana. Please don't die..."

Diana Prince has posed:
Diana's eyes look to her sister from inside of her netted-prison still atop her faithful friend. She is left just smiling down at the young Donna. For Diana, having a sister was a special kind of happiness. It was something she'd always wanted, an actual sister, to play with and ... terrorize the other Amazons with. Of course... it wasn't precisely how her wishes had been imagined. Diana, in her youthful years, wanted a sister that would be her own age, so that they could grow up together. She had the sisters of the island, but they were all... old. At least until she caught up with them in age...

Even still, Donna's arrival had been a wish come true. If a bit late.

"Oh, I think I will live to fight another day. In fact, I--" Her look between the arrival of her mohter, and the reaction that their conversation had suddenly taken across Donna's face causes Diana's temperament to suddenly shift.

Where happiness was on her face, concern suddenly strikes it out of existence. Diana's right hand comes up and she whips the net off of her body with utter ease. "Donna?" She asks, standing and sweeping a leg off of her horse to dismount it in a graceful swift fashion.

Her sandaled feet impact on the soft earth of the horse trail, and she starts to cross the distance between she and the young Troia. "Donna..." She shouldn't even be calling her by that name right now, she shouldn't even... exist right now?

"Mother?" Diana looks to Hippolyta then, concern stricken across her facial features. "What has happened?" She asks them both, now looking from Hipplyta, back to Troia. "This is... this is not how I remember this day..."

Hippolyta (1581) has posed:
The queen descends from her horse, to run towards her daughters. Her white garment seems to be streaked with dark, fading between white and purple. "I do not know- Diana, stay by-"

She stops for a second, looking down at her belt. The sword she had sought to draw is not there. Why did she wanted to draw the sword? Why was there a threat? Whence was it coming from?

She glances around. Was that a figure with flaming-golden hair? Just when she thought she had seen it it disappeared. It was almost as if the world was seeking to assert itself, but it did not know which skein was the right one.

Donna Troy has posed:
    "You've outplayed me again mother," Troia says, studying the petteia board on the small table between them. "I thought I had the advantage a few moves back, but I've allowed you to build the stronger position while taking those last few pebbles. Unless you make a mistake now, you'll win this."

    There is a faint click as Troia moves one of her black pebbles across the board - she knows her position is difficult, but there are still options. She knows she has played too aggressively up to now, but maybe she can use that. If she plays it just right and Hippolyta thinks she's still going with aggression, she may be able to engineer a stalemate. There is one strategy Troia has that's all her own - she /never/ gives up.

    "How long did it take you to get your first victory over mother?" Troia asks Diana, who's sitting beside them watching the game. "Please tell me it wasn't when you were twelve or something. I want something to aim for." She grins wide at Diana, a challenging expression that rapidly softens into a smile.

    It's an odd kind of rivalry, that Troia acts determined to do things better than her sister in all things - one that Hippolyta has seen over the years, but has come to realize more clearly since Troia returned from America that Troia herself doesn't take seriously at all. For a time it had been a worry that Troia seemed to motivate herself in that way, but it had been Philippus who had first really seen it for what it is. Troia has found a role-model in Diana, but presenting it as a rivalry is Troia's way of making a joke out of it, and at her own expense. It's as if she feels a need to remind people that she's got a lot of catching up to do.

    The why of it is something that Philippus hadn't figured out, and nor is it something Troia herself has ever given away. Warm afternoon sunlight floods into the throne room from the high windows, and around the room a few courtiers sit talking quietly amongst themselves. In one corner, away from the light, the lone figure of the Amazon's greatest sorcerer Magala sits watching the royal family at play, a secret smile on her lips. She's the one person on Themyscira who knows the fear Troia has that makes her act in that way, and it's the same fear that caused her to be shy of Diana at first, when Diana first returned to the island.

    Magala gets to her feet and bows to the Queen. "I have my studies to attend to," she says. "If you will excuse me, my queen. I wish you a pleasant day. And you, Troia." She looks straight through Diana as if she were not there, and turns to leave.

Diana Prince has posed:
Diana sits with her back straight on the seat beside the game players. Her eyes are on the board and its pieces when she hears Donna's frustrations with the game-at-hand, coupled with the seemingly endless losses to the tactical genius that is their mother.

A quick smile is summoned to Diana's lips, her eyes dance over to their mother's face, and then back to Donna's own. "Troia... you are playing the same strategy again and again, that is how she can predict your moves. You need to break free of your ideas, and come up with new methods." That did not answer the question!

Diana's hands move up to rest atop her knee after she crosses her legs together. "Besides, it is not about winning as much is it is about learning. And what better way to learn than to lose to the best?" That ALSO does not answer the question!

It's possible Diana knows about this rivalry that is entirely one sided between she and the young Troia.

Diana looks to Hippolyta and grins at her mother. "You are taking far too much joy in these wins though, mother, much as I remember you did with me as well..."

This feels 'right' and happy again.

At least up to the point where Diana's eyes go to Magala who approaches them, speaks, and then stares through Diana like she was a... ghost. "Magala?" Diana questions before she can leave.

No reply comes.

Diana uncrosses her legs again and places her hands atop her thighs as she raises to stand. "Periménete, ti eínai láthos?" Diana says to the departing woman...

Now, on her feet, Diana looks from Donna to Hippolyta. "What did I do?" She asks, concern on her voice.

Hippolyta (1581) has posed:
Hippolyta smiles and rests a fingertip on one of the pebbles. "You shouldn't begrudge me what little time I have left in remaining undefeated, daughter," this is to Diana while looking fondly at Troia. "It won't be long until we are playing at equals, and I won't have the joy to see my daughter learning by leaps and bounds but to the more subtle steps that follow the refinement of mastery." Hippolyta's custodial attacks have been steady, carefully balancing prudence to offset her daughter's aggression, and in this way to impart a lesson while also enjoying the game.

She pauses, however, when Diana seems to be upset by Magala. The queen seems to direct a question to the sorceress as she exits... but then-

She looks down at the board again. It was only her and Troia in the room, after all. She needed to impart the important lesson, lest Troia end like... "You are improving, but you are still applying too much aggression, daughter. You will exhaust yourself and leave yourself open."

Donna Troy has posed:
    It'snot the same game though!" Donna insists to Diana. "I try so many permutations. This time I concentrated on attacking either flank unpredictably. I set up with the split middle so I could respond on either side side as she built up forces there, but I kept this force in reserve because I anticipated she would attempt to build a defensive base in the center to counter my weakness there. Instead she sacrifices the center, where I am weakest! This is not a tactic I have ever seen her use before."

    She folds her arms across her chest, staring with an intent focus at the board as Hippolyta considers her move. When she thinks the queen's attention is away, she gives Diana the subtlest of winks, an acknowledgement that she is not quite as naive to her current position as she is letting on. The lesson to be less aggressive in her play is one she has yet to learn, but there are things about tactical improvisation that she has learned in Patriarch's world that may yet surprise her mother...

    The wink gives way to a slight frown as she sees Diana's reaction to Magala, and she turns from the board to watch Magala leave before turning back with a puzzled expression. "Sister? Did you and Magala have a falling out? What's wrong? Mother, I ..." she blinks a few times, the expression of puzzlement deepening into a look of confusion. She reaches a hand out to Diana's shoulder, and her hand passes through Diana as if she was not there.

    The blinking continues for a few moments, and then shifts in turn to an expression of sadness. She lightly touches the edge of the chair Diana is sitting on, and turns back to the board. "Mother. I miss her so much," she whispers.

Diana Prince has posed:
On her feet now, Diana moves around the back of Donna, as though she plans to pursue Magala to insist that the woman regards her, but she halts her progress once she's on the other side of the game board from which she was seated. She stares after the departing figure before she turns back to her mother and sister...

When Donna's hand passes through her shoulder, Diana's eyes watch it before she follows the hand back to Donna's eyes across the board at the Queen.

A look is given between the two of them. Donna's words of remorse toward Diana's presence makes her brow furrow. "Donna--" Diana gasps, her head shaking right to left. "I am not gone. I am here. I am not..."

Once more she looks to their mother for confirmation of this.

"I am not... dead." She stares at the Queen for only a moment before she suddenly is overcome with an overwhelming desire to turn and run away! She spins on her heels and raises her hands up to the sides of her face, drifting her fingertips back across her hairline, and then tosses her hands down, her eyes lifting up as she looks toward the doorway, and begins to run out of the throne room!

Hippolyta (1581) has posed:
The doorway leads to a corridor that grows increasingly darker and darker, until alost nothing can be seen. And then, the light of torches illuminates the world. The Queen's chambers are often a welcoming, serene environment, but in this setting they are anything but. The torches somehow light less than they should, and the darkness seems to be actually fighting the light, attempting to suffocate it. The colors seem washed out, paler.

Hippolyta paces across the room, wine-red garment trailing behind her as she wrests her hands, a severe expression on her face.

"No! It is my determination that she will be captured and put to the judgement of Dike. Regarldess of what she has done- she will be judged the way all Amazons are judged." She turns around in a sweep of red cloth, to face someone...

Donna Troy has posed:
    The figure seated opposite Hippolyta, dressed and hooded in long robes of Pheonician purple and thrice-dyed black turns her head to look at Diana as her flight from the throne room takes her into the the dim chamber. "Does your middle daughter share your soft heart, sister?" she asks. "You have sheltered too long on your island. You call for the judgement of Dike, yet she gave her judgement long ago, when she too fled the World of Men. When she stepped up to take her place in the stars, did she not bid us 'Behold how far the children of the golden age have fallen: the strife of Ares shall be their lot, and grief their harvest'?"

    She lowers her hood, looking back at Hippolyta. Her face is familiar enough to all three; it has been more than three thousand years since the queen had seen her sister in the waking world, but there are are reminders in bronze and marble around the palace. "What was done to us, back then, was not just. What was done to Diana, was not just. We were born of those souls who had suffered injustices so that we could bring justice to the world. Do not look to the capricious gods for justice, Hippolyta. Look to your own hand." She turns again, to face a third, white clad figure barely visible in the gloom. "Or to your youngest's hand. We are in accord, are we not, Troia?"

    The dim light shifts slightly, and the white-clad figure of Donna takes a half step forwards. She frowns in puzzlement, her sleeping mind unable to understand why it is she finds the voice of her aunt so unfamiliar. "I... I am not sure. I don't... it's not up to me to make this decision."

    "Is it not?" Antiope asks, smiling softly. "Then why do you carry that?" She gestures towards Donna's hand, and Donna looks down to see a slender sword, widening to the tip, of bronze, silver and gold. She blinks in surprise, raising the sword to catch the faint light of the torches, and stare at it in silence a few moments, before she looks guiltily to Diana.

    "I... sister, I wanted to... I don't know. Seeing you hurt made me... it filled me with anger, sister. In that moment, had Cassie's double been in front of me I would have taken her life without hesitation, without pity, without forgiveness. Now - now I don't know. I just... I just want you back, Diana."

Diana Prince has posed:
Diana pauses in this new area, her hands at her sides and her eyes scanning over the faces of those here-in. She listens to them discuss the Goddess of Judgement, the way to deal with the version of Cassie that...

... that lead to all of this.

The blurred reality of dream and the waking world were becoming more and more clear. The realization of being IN a dream, mixed in with people from reality were becoming more... obvious to the Princess.

Diana's eyes linger on her mother, on her aunt... and then on to Donna. She walks toward Donna, and her hands raise up to place her fingertips out on to either of Donna's cheeks. She stares down at her young sister. "I could not bring myself to fight her, to harm her. I care for Cassie as much as I care for you. You are both my strongest love." And there-by her strongest weakness.

"Even this... tortured version of dear Cassie, does not deserve death in our world. She deserves to be sent back to her reality, to her world, where her story can find its proper ending, as all ours should, in our rightful places."

Diana's fingertips leave Donna's face and she turns to look to Hippolyta. "I have been given so many gifts in my life. Cassie and Donna, being at the peak of those granted gifts. But through my sisters, I have come to understand the stresses, and fears, of helping preserve their safety."

The Princess takes a step toward her mother and moves to sit down beside her. "I am not giving up." She says to the Queen, then looks to Troia. "Help me find a way to fight back against... whatever is keeping me here, and we will overcome it. Together."

Hippolyta (1581) has posed:
"You fought in a war fueled by the revenge of man!" Hippolyta says, her eyes flashing, "And you were lost to us forever! Sister, I will always grieve for your loss, but I will not allow you to lead my daughter astray as you were led by the madness of Patriarch's world."

The queen stops and glances at Diana and Donna, and turns to Antiope. "You forsook your sisters to fight your own war. Dike is not with us because the world of men forsook the path of Harmonia- are we, then, to perpetuate man's fall in our own flesh and forsake the laws that hold us in the grace of the Patrons? Forsake out heritage? Our wisdom?" She shakes her head, "Think of why is it that you want what you want, Antiope, and ask me again."

Her eyes soften as they return to her two daughters. "Troia."

Donna Troy has posed:
    "Diana, I know she doesn't deserve death," Donna says, her eyes downcast. "But she tried to kill you. And Cassie. /Our/ Cassie. She will try again, and she has to be stopped. I didn't mean..." she shakes her head and looks up into Diana's eyes. "No. At first I /did/ mean to seek revenge. I saw you lying there wounded and I was filled with anger. But now I have calmed down, I am afraid. You are not here to preserve Cassie's safety, so that falls to me. And you cannot defend yourself, so preserving /your/ safety falls to me. I don't want to kill Cassie's double any more, but I am afraid that if I try anything less then it may not be enough."

    Antiope gestures towards Troia. "Is this madness, sister? Or pragmatism? Herakles' betrayal had to be answered, not for the sake of revenge, but for the sake of the future. Forty thousand moons and more have shone down on Themyscira and watched you sit on your throne while the world around you grows no more just, sister. Mercy should be granted when it can be afforded, but can you afford it here?"

    She turns to Diana, smiling her gentle smile that belies the war-like nature of her words. "You talk of the many gifts that have been granted you. Think then of the price of having those gifts taken away. Is it worth risking the life of the Cassandra you love for the sake of the Cassandra who would take her from you? Would you have Troia strive to protect you without the weapons she needs to do so? This is not some simple villain she faces on your behalf, it is Kassandra Dios Thugater, a daughter of Zeus, who she has abandoned for Ares. For all that she is a misled child, she is Ares' sword at your heart. Ares must be disarmed. This is who we are."

    Donna, her eyes locked on Diana's still, lowers the sword. "I just want Diana back and Cassie safe," she whispers.

Diana Prince has posed:
With some lucidity returning to Diana's mind, it's at least clear that the power keeping her here isn't, or hasn't yet, damaged that part of her body. Her eyes look from one of them to the next as they speak before she lowers her stare down to her lap where she is seated, her hands together and her fingers interlaced.

"I have no intention of staying here, in these dreams, forever." Diana says, followed by a wince of pain! The Princess' stands up again and looks down to her arm where the skin where the Lasso of Truth touches her in reality suddenly glows from the rope's activation.

It caught her in a lie...

She did have intentions of staying here, so it seemed? Her eyes dart back up to Donna and the Queen, once more with concern on her visage. "I... I..." The elder of Hippolyta's daughters stammers now for an explanation. "I do not /want/ to... want... to be here. In this... imaginary construct." A brief look around their immediate area is taken in before she looks again to them.

"It pulls at me." She states firmly, her brow knitted as she shows the passion behind the feelings she's experiencing. "It desires me to stay /here/ with it." 'it' being... Death?

"I do not know if I could resist it, had... had you--" Diana lets these thoughts ago. She turns and walks toward the opposite side of the room with one hand upon her hip and another rising up to stroke over the top of her head, her dark hair tied back into a bun. "I can fight it." She says, barely above a whisper.

Quickly she whips around again to tell them both, louder. "I will fight it!"

Hippolyta (1581) has posed:
"Melanippe thought she was being pragmatic when she shed blood on Themysciran soil and stole-"

A pregnant pause, and Hippolyta collects herself, "She stole more from us than we can ever regain. Our sister broke the pact of our sisterhood in the name of vengeance- and it was not Nemesis that led her stepps, but the doom of Eris, who leads the vengeful to ruin!"

The Queen of the Amazons begins to waver, her image becoming somewhat transluscent as the agitation of the dream pushes her closer to consciousness.

"My daughters will always know to do what must be done." She fixes her eyes on Diana and Donna. "Even if they lose their way, they will always find each other, for they have never forsaken Themyscira. And for that... they have become our gift to the world."

Donna Troy has posed:
    Donna stands still, the god-killer sword dangling from one hand, silently watching Diana as she steps away.

    "Melanippe was seduced by Ares in cohort with Eris," Antiope argues. "Though she did not know it. How much more can this other Cassandra, seduced knowingly and embracing her seduction, take from us? Melanippe took one daughter from you, my sister. She thought she was doing the right thing for the Amazons. This other Cassandra has tried to take another daughter from you and seeks only to bring harm to the Amazons."

    She leans back, her hands gripping the arms of her chair, her gaze fixed on Hippolyta. "Your ability to forgive is a strength, Hippolyta. But you must temper that with action when it is necessary to act, and the years have softened your determination to act. You sit on your throne on an island at peace, and you let the world fall into war. Your daughters know this; you say they have never forsaken Themyscira, but unlike you they have rejected your belief that the rest of the world must be forsaken. You heard your mother, Troia. You know what must be done. Stand up for you sister. Protect her. Face the danger that threatens us all, and defeat it - you have the means in your hands to do so."

    Donna turns to stare at her mother, then at Antiope. She holds Antiope's gaze for a few moments, and then gives a very small nod of her head towards her aunt.

    The silence in the room is broken by a clattering of metal as the god-killer slips from Donna's fingers and falls to the ground. She rushes forwards and wraps her arms around Diana in a fierce embrace, and whispers "I do now, aunt. I do now. Diana - you do not have to fight it alone. I am with you, and I will always be with you, even when you think you are alone. Come back to me. Find me."