7406/Erebos: Themysciran Epilogue

Erebos: Themysciran Epilogue
Date of Scene:	17 August 2021
Location:	Palace - Themyscira City
Synopsis:	After enduring the steps of Erebos and the battle on the island, Cait and Donna reflect on their trip up the steps and what it means for their path going forward.
Cast of Characters:	Caitlin Fairchild, Donna Troy

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Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
For Caitlin, the battle against the legion of undead centaurs was just about the middle of her day. The long, seemingly endless hike up the fathomless steps of Erebos was an adventure all its own. The Titans trudging up those steps with no sense of time, or day and night. Maybe even outside such mortal constraints and perceptions. And then, bare minutes to rally and brace themselves before plunging into the thick of battle shoulder to shoulder with the Amazons of Themyscira. Ixion's armies crushed and left mouldering in the dirt and the great bronze gates once against closed and latched.

And then while the heroes and friends could finally rest, the grim task of tending the wounded fell to the Amazon's healers-- and Caitlin had dutifully fallen into place with them. There are never enough skilled hands in a healer's tent and while the women of Themyscira are paragons of endurance and durability, they can still bleed.

So while others nursed their wounds and rested, Caitlin was in the surgical theater for most of fourteen hours straight. Eponia had forced her to sleep for an hour at one point, but there were too many wounded and never enough hands for any of the women to rest more than briefly.

The hour is late when the last patient is treated, and Caitlin firmly told to take a rest before returning. The brawny redhead staggers out of the medical tent with no arguments there, the immediate emergencies attended to. Her shoulders slumped in exhaustion, she unties the heavy, white canvas apron that's turned rust-red from old blood. It's tossed somewhere out of her way so she can wash her hands clean in a basin of flowing water, scrubbing at nails and fingertips until the water runs clear once more.

Task completed, she moves to the broad steps leading down from the healer's tableau and lowers her weight onto them with a groaning relief for the cool marble against her fatigued hips and legs. With an uncharacteristic lack of posture Caitlin sprawls across several steps, legs stretched out in front of her and elbows resting on a ledge behind her for support. The moon is high overhead and the stars pour their own light down onto the gleaming white marble of Themyscira's architecture, a constant bath of celestial silver radiance.

Donna Troy has posed:
    It has been a day. Even for those who the battle had been the start of the day, it has been a day. It has been a very long time since Themyscira had faced a breakout from Doom's Doorway of that scale. Had the enemy not been delayed first by the Titans and then by the Titans with the help of the smaller force Diana had requested be prepared in advance /just in case/, the Centaur army would probably have broken out into the island before the full might of the Themysciran army could be brought to bear on it. Things might have been far worse.

    They aren't perfect. There have been a significant number of injuries, but also a few deaths. Deaths among the immortal Amazons are rare. They are accepted as a part of what it is to be an Amazon, but that makes each death no less of a personal tragedy, and in some way the loss seems keener-felt. Perhaps it is because an immortal has a longer life to lose.

    Perhaps because every time an Amazon dies, Themysicra becomes that much emptier.

    It has been a day of battle, and exertion, but also of celebration and of mourning. This latter thing has been kept out of the way of the newcomers, as much as possible. They are to be celebrated, if cautiously and with considerable curiosity, for the efforts they made for Themyscira, and some unspoken effort has been made to keep the tragedy away from them.

    Troia has been stuck somewhere in the middle. Wanting to mourn the passing of sisters and celebrate their deeds, but responsible for this herd of young visitors too. Keeping them amused, getting them settled in, showing them around. It has been a more tiring and less joyous experience than it should have been, but Troia will not shirk such duties, and could not be more glad of them.

    Of all the Titans on Themyscira there are two who it is not Troia's duty to chase after, because Cassie and Caitlin are Amazons too, and can look after themselves. Eponia however has somewhat different ideas, and thus shortly before Caitlin had been ordered from the temple of healing, Eponia had sent a message to Troia, giving her one final task of this very long day: see that Aikaterine /actually/ gets some sleep.

    "'Sup, nerd?" Troia says in greeting, climbing up the steps to join Caitlin. She'd assumed she'd meet up with Cait on the walk from the palace, but there had been no Cait on the short journey from the Palace. After beating the stairs of Tartarus, the short flight leading to the healer's buildings seems to have defeated her.

    Troia's no longer wearing the armor Hekate had summoned for her. Pallas had requested it be sent to her forge for examination. Instead she's dressed in a simple but elegant white-and-blue chiton and sandals, an outfit like so many others in the streets of Themyscira's city. She drops down to take a seat beside Caitlin, slouching back with her arms rested on the step above her, eyes up to stare at the moon, and blows out her cheeks. "This has been quite a day. Or two days, apparently. Rae's back at the tower. None of the Titans seem to be too badly hurt, though several of them... have a lot to talk about. Quite a day."

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"Hey dork," Caitlin replies with a weary affection. She shifts all of half an inch from her position, too tired to do more than a notional nod to making room for Donna to sit as well.

"That can't have been only two days. It felt like a month at least," Caitlin mutters. She rolls her neck around to try and loosen stiff muscles, and looks up at the moon to try and spot what Donna sees in that silvery little orb in the sky.

"Alassia's gonna make it," she says. Her voice is tired, neutral. "It'll take a while to get back use of her hand though. Eponia thinks we saved Daphne's right eye. Myrine, Ida, and Danae are still touch and go. There's not much we can do except wait and see how they respond to the healing poultices."

She scuffs her heel against the granite in exhausted frustration. "I wanted to wait with them but Eponia threatened to do something terrible to me if I didn't get out of the infirmary. All I could make out was 'underworld' and 'bedpans'."

A beat, and she rolls her head tiredly a few degrees towards Donna. "I don't suppose there's any chance at all you've got a wineskin on you, because 'I need a drink' suddenly feels like my new life mantra," she ventures.

Donna Troy has posed:
    "I didn't think to bring one, Cait. Pleeeently of wine back at the palace, though." Troia flashes Caitlin a wide, toothy grin. "Which incidentally Eponia has /ordered/ me to ensure you find your way back to, and specifically to your bed inside it." She tilts her head one way, then the other. "There's a little bar not far from here though. Couple of minutes. We could go there if you like. You know, on the way. It's probably pretty busy tonight."

    Troia sits straighter so she can lean back on a hand rather than both elbows, and drapes the spare arm over Caitlin's shoulder. "Good work, Cait. I mean... all of it." She gestures with her head back towards the temple. "Helping Eponia, in the battle, and... you know. Down there. You might not be thinking it, so I had to tell you that. I don't want you feeling guilty about... you know."

    Troia blinks a few times and lets her head fall back, looking up at the moon again. "I didn't want to say anything, but... I kinda exaggerated. About being there before. One time, I went down the stairs. Pursuing a giant. We caught it close to the bottom of the stairs, but I'd been no further than that. Almost nobody has. There are some pictures though. Some rough maps. Fortunately I'd studied them, just out of curiosity. Guiding you all to the Iron Gate... well it was mostly guesswork. We actually doubled back on ourselves at one point going through that maze of walkways, but I don't think anyone noticed."

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin lists sideways at the touch, leaning against Donna's reassuring hug. Her response to Donna's confession is numbed by exhaustion but there seems to be no reprimand in her voice when she speaks. "Probably smart to keep that to yourself," she admits. "'I think this is the way' is not something you wanna hear when you're somewhere scary. Especially Tartarus. Or upstate New York."

She levers herself to a sitting position and stands up, hands absently brushing at her tunic to dust herself off. "A bar sounds like a good stopping point though," she agrees, and offers Donna a hand to help her to her feet.

They start walking, not with any particular hurry. Caitlin's arms hug her stomach as if there's a faint chill in the air, though the night is warmly temperate and comfortable with the cool Aegean breezes and the day's warmth rising from the marble bricks.

"I feel pretty dumb that I fell for the mind trick," Caitlin admits. "It felt so real, though. It was--" she frowns, tugging on the thick braid at the nape of her neck. "It was my dad. And like, young, y'know? Not how I've seen him in pictures. And Athena was there. They were helping me run from..."

She clears her throat, looks over at Donna. The point of Caitlin's chin lifts at the dark-haired princess. "What about you? What did the stairs show you?"

Donna Troy has posed:
    "That was pretty much what I thought too, Cait," Troia replies as she take Cait's offered hand up. "'Yes we're in hell but don't worry it'll be fine' - I mean that's kind of a hard sell, you know? I mean I /was/ confident we could find the way to the gate. I knew enough of the geography to recognize some landmarks. I knew which rough direction to head in. That just doesn't sound as reassuring as 'I know the way out', though."

    She leads the way at a casual pace towards the bar. Even this late, there's quite a few people in the streets after the excitement of the day, and the pair get a few nods of greeting, in the typically understated manner of Themyscirans keeping out of other people's business. "You shouldn't feel dumb about it, Cait. That was some serious magic we faced. You're not the first Amazon to be caught out by it, and you won't be the last. It found a way to make it real for you. A lever, yes? But it had to be smart. Because it couldn't find a way to make you turn around. You were too strong for that. It couldn't trick you, but it found in your love for the Titans a way to make you /chose/ to go down. Not because you were fooled into thinking that down was the correct way, but because you were fooled into thinking that it was the /only/ way."

    She walks for a while in speculative silence before ansering Caitlin's question. "I'm not sure they showed me much. It... at one moment I thought I was in that dream again. You know, the one I... the empty tower. That was cunning, because it shifted my expectations. In that dream I go down to the Memorial Room. Down. Tricky. But... well. I think we had help, Cait. And maybe the reason it was you who the stairs got to not anyone else is because of me. I'm not sure, but I think... I think it was looking into my mind. And in my mind you're the strong one. I may have given someone the impression you needed less help than everyone else."

    Troia gives a shrug of her shoulders. "But I'm not sure. I have a lot to think about."

    The bar is as close as Troia had promised. Considerably smaller than Troia's favourite bar overlooking the sea, the place Caitlin had first experienced getting drunk, but cosy and welcoming. There are a small number of tables outside the converted house, and though they are filled, a small group volunteers their table to the pair, a thank-you for the warning the Titans had given to Themyscira, and buys them a jug of wine.

    After the pair are settled and the wine poured, Troia takes a long drink before continuing her story. "I met someone. She walked beside me almost the whole journey. I'm not sure if that was a vision from the stairs, but I don't think it was. She didn't seem to be encouraging me to turn back. I think it was one of the /Lampades/, one of Hekate's servants. They kind of have a history of showing heroes the way to escape from Tartarus. Maybe that means we're officially heroes now."

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin is not a heavy drinker by any means, but the goblet of wine is welcomed and she takes some longer draughts from it than usual compared to her polite sipping. Donna's tale gets close attention, Caitlin's brow furrowing at the speculation about the mysterious aid she got.

"Well... my da-- the vision said that it was the lasso /and/ Erebos," Caitlin reassures Donna. "Just... too many outside influences. It happened like that on the Dreadnought, remember? Maybe it's... becoming something we finally need to do something about."

She stares into her wine, then takes a few healthy pulls from it. The concept clearly brings her no respite.

"Anyway-- nuff about my thing, for now. Hekate, she's the, uh..." Caitlin purses her lip and squints skywards. "Witchcraft, right? ghosts?" she hazards. "I don't know a whole lot about her, or the Lampades. Why do you think she'd throw in and help us out?"

Donna Troy has posed:
Troia sighs and leans back in her chair, her fingers playing with the stem of her goblet. "Cait, Hekate is... I don't know. She's kind of a mystery. The witchcraft thing is... well. Kind of modern witchcraft picking up on things they think are cool, I guess. She may be the literal goddesss of magic though, whatever that means. She /is/ the goddess of... of crossroads, and gateways. One of her names means something like the holder of the keys. She is important in Hades' realm, but she's also important in Zeus' realm, and that's... unusual. She sided with Zeus during the Titanomachy, and probably that got her a lot of... freedom. I don't know. Some people suspect even Zeus finds her worrying."

    She takes another deep drink of her wine, and tops up both cups. "So... I have no idea. I don't know why she was helping us, but I doubt very much she was doing so for our benefit. Which raises a real question. I haven't talked it over with Hippolyta yet. She might have some ideas. But I mean... why did she help us the way she did? Surely she could have stopped the Centaurs herself. Or sent us to the top of the stairs rather than the bottom. That... that part really makes me uneasy, Cait. Because it makes it feel personal. Like... she was using us to deal with the Centaurs, fair enough. No problem with that. But why... why like that? I think... I guess it would be a mistake to assume that anything Hekate does has only a single reason. I think there were plans within plans, and it would take someone smarter than me to figure it out."

    She takes another drink, but a more modest one. "And I really wouldn't bet against Hekate having arranged it all, Cait. The box. How did it end up in Metropolis? We don't know. But if you wanted to get a bunch of Titans into Tartarus, that would be a way to do it."

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"Okay, but... why put us in Tartarus?" Caitlin counters. She runs her fingers through her hair, and the motion serves to remind her she's still got her fighting braid in place. The twist at the end of the braid's undone and she starts brushing the thick red strands out with her fingertips to loosen them.

"Nadia's a scientist, she's not someone they're interested in. Robin is one of Batman's kids, or... whatever that deal is. Gar and Terry... Terry's kind of off their radar, right? The Olympians? And Gar's never so much as crossed paths with a minotaur as much as he enjoyed pretending to be one."

Her hair's a little tangled but it's falling free around her shoulders now at least. Caitlin sips her wine with her usual sense of modest consumption. "So... I mean that leaves you and me," she points out. "And of the two of us, you're kind of more special than I am when it comes to the favors of the gods."

Caitlin blinks at the conclusion of the logic she's talked herself through. "Well... I mean gosh, Donna, if you think about it, the most surefire way to get you through Tartarus would be for a bunch of your friends to trip over something like that Box. Even if it didn't get you in the initial blast radius, you'd have come running for everyone it did," she observes. "What would Hekate want with -you- then?"

Donna Troy has posed:
    Troia frowns and shakes her head. "No... Cait, I... look. The gods aren't easy to understand and Hekate least of all. Maybe... maybe it's a way at getting at my mother. Or maybe a way of getting at one of the five. Or maybe you're wrong and it's /you/ not me who's more interesting. After all, you got all five speak to you in the temple, really /speak/ to you, about who you are. I just got their mom showing up to pat me on the head. Or maybe Hekate was curious about Gar, because he changes into animals like Zeus does and she just wanted to take a look at him. Or maybe Hekate wanted to take a look at Rae. Or because Eris was involved, she found the nearest creature of chaos magic she could find, because she thought it would be funny if Eris lost because of a being of chaos magic. Maybe they're beginning to feel that science is getting way too close to their magic and Nadia was a good person to study. Robin's ancestry... could be of interest. Hell for all we know, Dick's could be. Maybe his mom was another of Zeus' offspring. Or maybe she was hoping to net Cassie all along, and when it was just us lot who showed up, she got bored."

    Troia gives Cait a helpless shrug and takes a modest sip of her wine before rolling her shoulders and getting comfortable again. "What I'm saying is... what I'm saying is it doesn't make sense to try to guess motives. For all we know, Hekate saw something in the threads Clotho was spinning that told her that events a thousand years from now would be more to her advantage if a mortal called Kate Bishop visits Tartarus before she's an adult. We just can't know."

    She reaches a hand out to rest it on Caitlin's arm. "Cait... I just don't think it's worth trying to second-guess this. I'm gonna talk to /matera/ about it because she needs to know. If any of the gods are involving Themysicra in their plans for any reason, she needs to know. But I'm not expecting any /answers/."

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin reaches across and gives Donna's fingers a squeeze where they rest on her arm. "Okay, okay," she soothes. "Fair enough. But I reserve the right to be a little suspicious, okay?" she counters. "I mean, hear hooves, think horses. You're the most /probable/ link to Hekate, is all I'm saying, and from what everyone's said about their personal... vision quests, you had the most prolonged contact with a Lampade that wasn't just a bundle of metaphor and simile. I didn't even see one," she points out.

"I'm just glad we didn't have to slog our way back across Tartarus," she says with an attempt to elicit some humor from Donna. "You ever stop and think about the banality of our weird lives? I remember when making my rent was a big deal. Now we're debating about crawling through the Olympian underworld and how inconvenient that would have been. We used to stop bank robbers. I can't remember the last time we rolled in on like... a /mugging/ even." She laughs at the memories, and reaches for her wineglass for another sip.

Donna Troy has posed:
    "I'm the one person who'd beaten the stairs before," Troia points out. "I was leading the group, and I was taking the rear. It was more important for me to remain clear-headed than anyone else. Other people could have their vision quests so long as I was walking behind them, aware enough to stop them passing me. And who says the Lampades can even speak English? We're basically cousins. Who else would they speak to directly?" It all seems perfectly logical.

    Troia withdraws her hand to take another gulp of wine, and shakes her head. "Last week. I stopped a mugging last week." She gives Caitlin a look that can only be described as slightly embarrassed, and shrugs her shoulders. "It was close. I was on monitor duty and bored. What can I say? But yeah. Titans do bank robberies, League saves the world. That's how it used to be. But we grew up Cait. Now we save the world alongside the League. Sometimes ahead of them. What can I say about that other than..." Her expression slowly morphs into a look of pure amused mischief. "Told ya. Didn't I tell you, all of you, right from the start?"

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin's eyes roll theatrically at Donna's expression of pleased self-amusement, and she just shakes her head and looks out at the cool Aegean with a grin on her face. The Amazons are in their revels, celebrating their victory. Few greater threats come to the island than those from Doom's Gate-- but it's been decades since a foreign host descended on Themyscira with the intent to challenge their forces en masse. "I don't remember, you were in that phase where you were lecturing everyone all the time. I tuned out most of it," she says with a lofty insincerity.

She rests her elbows on the table, arms loosely folded near her glass, and looks back at Donna. "Do you think there's a chance I was actually talking to my dad?" she inquires, with a slightly troubled look. "Because ... like, in the dream, I was having things that were trying to make me descend the stairs. Like I was running towards a fight, or moving to help a friend. And he'd grab my arm and pull me along. And he told me things, things like... about how it was the day Uncle Billy rescued me. That's not something I'd ever heard from anyone before. Ever. I never even imagined it. Just with... as weird and scary as everything was, could..." She pushes her mess of red hair back from her face and sighs, air from her lower lip pushing bangs away from her eyebrows. "Could we have been like, close enough to the veil for me to really have talked to him?"

Donna Troy has posed:
    Troia grimaces briefly then gives a smile and shuffles her chair a bit closer to Caitlin, to lean against her shoulder. "Cait.. yes there's a chance. I can't tell you if that's what happened, but I don't believe it's impossible. But that magic can be /really/ subtle. It could be that he was guiding you onwards exactly so that you'd lower your guard about things he was telling you. Or just to put you in the right frame of mind to be receptive to your fears."

    She drapes an arm around Caitlin's back, pulling her closer to give her a half-hug before letting go again. "On the other hand the magic could have been playing on something much deeper all along, only on your emotions, and everything you actually saw might have been real. Maybe you really did talk to him. You were in the right place for it Cait. Heroes descending into Tartarus to consult with the souls of those who've passed on is a thing. Athena though... I'm no priestess, Cait. But I think if you saw one of the gods... it doesn't /feel/ right that the magic would do that. So I believe you when you say you are sure it was really her."

    Troia leans back, rubbing the bridge of her nose tiredly. When even Caitlin and Troia are tired, you know the Titans have had a hard time. Troia considers briefly returning to the subject of Caitlin's inner demon and the point that Caitlin had raised earlier, that it had come out before once under not too dissimilar circumstances, and that it's something that needs addressing. She concludes that things are too emotionally raw for that discussion just yet, but it's a discussion that needs to be had, and soon.

    "The Lampad was mocking me, Cait. All the way up. Saying things to provoke me. Keep me angry so the magic of the stairs couldn't get a foothold, I guess. She said the Amazons are an irrelevance and the gods don't know what to do with us any more. Claimed she knew who my real parents are. Mocked me for not being a proper Amazon because I haven't got a new set of Themysciran armor, and not being a proper Titan because I don't have a... you know. Costume. And she hinted that I was betraying Rae by letting her go alone, that Rae was in danger. I... I almost threw her off the stairs."

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin leans in when Donna hugs her, emanating her usual quiet warmth and support for someone needing someone sturdy to lean against. Her elbow rests on the table and she props her chin in hand, a slouching posture of relaxation that'd look out of place anywhere but in their little corner of the wine hall.

"Kara changes her costume every other week," Caitlin points out after Donna leans back. A hand rests on Donna's shoulder, thumb gently pressing an over-tense trigger point behind her deltoid. "Pallas said something about making you spend a week schlepping coal for her forges before she's gonna make you something new. That sounds more like the Lampad looking for a way to get under your skin than something real."

"And let's-- Donna, let's be real," she says with a certain gravitas. "If Rae says she's going off to do something, there is literally nothing anyone of us can do to stop her. You -know- how she gets if she thinks people are bossing her around. Even you. If she thinks going to Tibet for six weeks is the right call, all you can do is mark it in your calendar."

There's a little pink on the tips of Caitlin's ears and nose, probably from the wine. She finally stops fussing with her hair once it's at least out of her way, and the humidity of the island sets the tumbling red locks into loose curls that frame her face and scatter over her shoulders. "Might be the wine talking, but I think if you'd yeeted her into the blackness, you'd have gotten along just fine. That sounds a lot less like divinely inspired insight, and more like something just trying to prey on your insecurity. Y'know?"

Donna Troy has posed:
    "Pallas has also said that she'll make me spend a week schlepping coal for her forges if I /don't/ ask her for something new soon," Troia says with a laugh. "That woman is offended that I dare go into battle not wearing her armor. Mostly I think she just enjoys being offended. Despairing of me is one of her hobbies."

    Troia waits for Caitlin to pick up her cup again for a drink before giving her arm a playful nudge. "None of it was real. It was all about trying to keep me on edge. Nothing more. I trust Rae to look after herself. Cait... we all have to do that. We all have to trust the rest of the Titans to do the right thing, and to be safe. Because if we didn't, we couldn't stand it. We go into danger so often. Of course there was a part of me that just wanted to say no. When everyone else said they were coming, and Rae couldn't. I hated leaving her on her own. And part of me thought... no. Some of them can come, but some have to stay with Rae. But the thing is... what would Rae say to that? She'd say 'Troia, every single time you charge like a lunatic into the thickest part of any battle you see, I let you.' And she'd be right. She often is."

    "But it bothered me, Cait." Troia gives out a soft sigh. "It bothered me that threatened her like that. I knew what she was doing, knew that she was trying to get to me. And even then I nearly... I get angry too quickly, Cait. It's not good."

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"No one's perfect," Caitlin quickly points out. "We've all got our... i'unno. Sore spots," she says. "It doesn't even take a mind-reader to pick up on them. Anyone who's spent ten minutes watching the team work knows that we're all each other's best strength and Achille's heel all in one."
     Her arm's nudged and Caitlin makes a strangled sound before barely avoiding spilling her drink. Donna gets a narrow-eyed look of reprimand for a flashing moment.
     Caitlin sets the winecup down. There are a few beats of silence and the object of her focus is clearly a thousand yards behind her wineglass.

"I--" she hesitates. "I think--...." There's a fidgeting uncertainty from the brawny redhead. "I think maybe it's time we... I... talked to a psychosurgeon," she says, carefully. "We've gotten lucky one too many times in the past. Stuff that could heal or be repaired. This time I literally jumped off the side of a cliff. There's something in my head that I don't want in there, Donna, and it's going to get me killed. And better me than my friends. And I am -terrified- of what's going to happen the day someone sets me off and you or Kara aren't able to stop me," she says. She looks up at Donna with a haunted expression. "But I don't think this is the kind of thing a regular therapist can even come close to fixing. How do we even figure out where to start?"

Donna Troy has posed:
    Troia sits in thoughtful silence for a little while, then smiles oddly and gives a shake of her head. "I'm not sure we know enough about how brains work for that to... I mean /we/ as in humans, not we as in Themyscirans. The idea of having someone poke around in your skull with a knife, or a laser scalpel, in the hopes of finding out where in that giant brain of yours the kinks have developed -- I'm not sure. Also, given that it would probably require stimulating areas of your brain in a kind of digging expedition, I think it might be a good idea if Kara or I were there anyway."

    She leans back, and picks up the jug to top up both cups again, though neither cup really needs it. "Cait, I... I don't know," Troia says, shaking her head. "But maybe it's not neuroscience and psychiatry you need. Maybe the best option would be a psychic. Or Rae. Or both. I know you wouldn't excatly be happy at the thought of someone rooting around in your mind like that, probably particularly not Rae. But it might be the best option. To find out what's really going on in your skull, and to /do/ something about it. The triggers are emotional, and nobody's better at rechanneling emotional responses than Rae. And someone like J'onn would probably be able to accurately trace down the pathways of thought that... that this is all about, better than any neuroscientist. And quite likely more safely, too."

    There are a few moments of silence as Troia studies Caitlin's face, then breathes out heavily and leans forwards on her elbows. "That's my suggestion, anyway. And..." The silence returns for a while, Troia's eyes dropping to look down into her wine cup. "I... I've been thinking that -- well, it's less dramatic that psychosurgery or psychic intervention, but Cait, I've been wondering if I shouldn't... maybe visit a -- I'm not saying therapy. I don't think I need... I don't know. It's just there's... I guess there's a lot I could do with working out. Unresolved stuff. Going to America... maybe I was too young. I don't know."

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
     "I ..." Caitlin hesitates, flickering a glance towards Donna, before proceeding -very- carefully. "I would trust Rae with my life in a heartbeat, but I also know this is something that's not entirely within her wheelhouse to treat. Rae doesn't really 'collaborate' on medical issues, she'd just... see the problem, corral the problem, and cast a spell at the problem. And then I've got a Rae spell in my brain forever, for good or bad."
     Caitlin starts to continue, then hesitates and backtracks. "Listen if you feel like you need a therapist, I know a good one," Caitlin tells Donna. "A couple, actually. I've talked to Doctor Samson a few times, he's got a lot of experience working with capes. But Dr. Quinzel, she's a friend of mine. And Terry's," she amends, a beat later. "I was her pen pal for years. She got kind of messed up by a supervillain and it took her a while to work through it. She's brilliant, though, really. Her methodologies a little, um... unorthodox, but she really is a good behavioural therapist," Caitlin urges. "I know there are meditative healers on the Island but maybe what you need is someone who can relate to being a hero more than being an Amazon. Y'know?"

Donna Troy has posed:
    Troia gives Caitlin a wry smile. "I am quite certain Terry would make the same recommendation," she says. "And Diana likes her a lot, too. It's funny -- my first day back in Metropolis, before I returned to the Tower, I bumped into Terry. He told me about Harley turning her back on crime and going straight. I had no idea what he was talking about, she hadn't exactly been famous when I left."

    At the next table, a group of Amazons discussing the battle earlier in the day get loud as two of them argue over a point of tactics, and Troia smirks slightly at Caitlin, rolling her eyes. The Amazons may have been at this for thousands of years, but it's just not as everyday an occurance as it is when you're a Titan. For an odd moment it feels like the two youngest there by far are the two veterans in a crowd of tyros. She takes another drink of wine then leans her elbows on the table and her chin on her hands with her head tilted to look at Caitlin, waiting for the noise from the other table to subside a little.

    "No... someone who can relate to being a hero isn't the issue. It's not that. That side... that's what makes me comfortable, Cait. Doing all of this, it's who I am. Where my life has always been going. It's more -- well, the non-hero stuff, I guess." Troia takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "I'm too Themysciran to be American, and too American to be Themysciran. I never... I was sixteen when I left, on an island of immortals. And I wasn't even born here. I never really did fit in. And then I went to America, where... well, you know. I mean this is /home/ Cait. And I love being here, with my sisters. And Metropolis and the tower is home too, and I love being there with you guys. But both of them are homes that I found. Or that found me, you know. Neither is... neither is me. Neither is where I come from. Some days I think... that's dumb. Everyone's the same. We are all born as blank slates, and we are filled by our experiences. That's just what it is to being a person. But some days I can't help wondering... if I'm not truly an Amazon, and I'm not truly an American, what am I? And I have to ask myself, who am I really? Who is Troia? Who is Donna Troy?"

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"You're a Titan." Caitlin's shoulders work in a shrug. "I'm sorry, if you're looking for something about self-identity that's deeper than 'where did I come from', you're going to have to talk to someone who's more than ten years old," she says with a rare, wry humor.
     "I mean-- look at the Amazons. This is their life. It's their identity." She gestures at the women, some chattering glibly, others arguing, others sitting back with taciturn expressions. "Everything about them is being an Amazon of Themyscira. No one expects them to do anything else but -be- an Amazon, and that's what all of them want most in the world."
     She draws Donna's attention back to her. "The Titans, none of us fit in anywhere," she points out. "I mean yeah we can /blend/, but we made a home for ourselves because what we were-- who we wanted to be-- it didn't fit in anywhere else. We wanted to be heroes and help people. And when no one was gonna help us do it, we did it ourselves, our own way."
     "Maybe it's different for you and Richard, because you have-- had-- identities before the Titans. Family and friends and stuff. For me it was..." she shrugs a little helplessly. "Where I came from didn't matter to me as much as the friends I made. Which worked out well for me with how things turned out. So... yeah." She fidgets with her wineglass, eyes ducking to the table after her lengthy bit of speech. "I guess that's just-- I mean that's how it's always felt to me."

Donna Troy has posed:
    Troia grins and leans in to wrap an arm around Caitlin's shoulders. "We're both Titans, Cait. That's the easy thing. And we're both Amazons too." She grins wide, giving Caitlin's shoulders a squeeze. "That first day we met, in your friend's restaurant. I knew then. I'm not just saying it, I really knew. Everyone else I had met in America, they were different to me and Diana. You were the first person I met ther who felt like... well, it felt like you'd just been born in the wrong place. Like you should have been an Amazon, but ended up in America instead. You puzzled me a lot, Cait. Because well -- Americans are weird, but you were an Amazon who didn't even know it and thought she was just another American. Everything about you said 'Amazon' to me, except... everything."

    She laughs, taking her arm away to lean back in her seat again. "I couldn't understand how someone your age had so little experience and training. Of course the whole 'your age' thing, well that turned out to be quite a surprise when you told me."

    "I don't know. Maybe it's just the things the Lampad said, getting to me." Troia's lips curl up into a smile that seems suddenly more relaxed. "The thing she said about knowing who my real parents are. It's something I've wondered, but never really... nothing more than idle curiosity. I don't care. I know who my family is. Hippolyta is my real mother in any every way that matters. The Amazons are my sisters. The Titans are family, too. And the thing she said about not getting Amazon armor or getting an American style hero costume. Neither fish nor fowl, you know?"

    Troia gives a quick shrug. "I don't know. It's just sometimes I feel like maybe I should have stayed here longer. When I came to America, I told mom that I needed to discover myself. Needed to understand the world outside, the world I had been born in, to understand myself. But honestly that was just an excuse, the reality was that I just wanted to see the world that Diana had described to me. It sounded so exciting. And maybe it was a mistake, because when I left I was still a child in the eyes of everyone here, the only child in Themyscira. I was different. Now... now I go to see mother and talk with her, and she listens to me as an adult. When you're a child and you impress your parents, you do so because they compare you to yourself. They see you are developing. Finally I am at the stage where sometimes I do something or say something that impresses her without that rider that it's better than she's used to from me. That I contribute. That I am part of Themysciran society, not some odd add-on to it. And maybe I should have got to that stage before leaving."

    Another brief shrug, and there's a subtle change in Troia's body language. A slight relaxing of muscles and poise, a settling into her seat, a soft exhalation, all indicative that she feels like that's out there, task done. "Anyway. I really think you /should/ speak to Rae about it. Get her to take a look, at least. She won't cast any spells if you ask her not to. J'onn too. Get them to take a look. Maybe they can help."

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin grins at the aside about age-- it had been something of a shock to her as well, at the time. She sips her wine again and when Donna eases back, Caitlin leans forward and rests her elbows on the table. Her elbow and palm support her chin and she props herself up so she can look back at Donna.
     "I'll talk to her about it. No promises," Caitlin says. "I love Rae to death and I'd trust her with my life. I also know she has a really hard time holding herself back from 'fixing'--" air-quotes dance from her fingers-- "an issue if she sees a direct line between problem and solution. Remember when the garbage disposal broke?" An eloquent shudder moves across Caitlin's shoulders.

"That's-- I mean I guess that's why I wanted to look at psychosurgery. I could figure out a way to immobilize myself physically for an exam, then induce an episode while I'm in a PET or fRMI scanner. I think a targeted meson emitter could sever the active neural links. It all seems like it's autonomous muscle memory, so the damage would just be in my amygdala and the cingulate gyrus. There's... pretty low odds of it seriously affecting my cognitive skills. I think."

Donna Troy has posed:
    "Just don't say anything to Epione," Troia says with a short laugh. "You should have heard her talking about that neurology textbook you gave her. She does not hold American neuroscience in high regard. Look... it's your brain and your decision, but I don't like those odds, Cait. I know what /you/ think about Themysciran medicine too, but we were studying the functioning of the brain when everyone else was busy trying to decide if coins were a good idea. Messing around with the parts of the brain that are concerned with emotional reaction isn't something simple. Cognitive function is one thing, but anticipation in battle is closely connected to emotional reactions. It might not impact your cognitive function, but it could make a real difference to your decision making in battle."

    Troia sucks her teeth with momentary indecision, then gives a short shake of her head. "Look, Cait. All I'm saying is don't make your mind up without exploring all the possibilities. Speak to Epione, and see what she has to say. Speak to Rae and J'onn -- and I can guarantee I can persuade Rae not to portal pieces of your mind to a random dimension just because it seems like a good fix at the time. Your brain isn't a garbage disposal unit. Make sure you explore all the options, okay?"

    She tilts her head to the side, matching the gesture with a one-shouldered half-shrug. "The PET scanner too. Luckily I know how to immobilize even you. I have a lasso."

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"You better not let Rae catch you offerin' to tie me up." The words are gone too fast for Cait's hand to catch them before it claps over her mouth, and green eyes go wide with alarm.

Laughter slips through her fingers and Caitlin slumps to the table, laughing until the corners of her eyes are wet. "Oh my gosh I can't believe I said that, I'm so sorry," she says through peeling, helpless giggles. Her laughter draws the momentary attention of a few Amazons who aren't quite as deep in their cups, but no one seems terribly perturbed by Caitlin's uncharacteristic outburst of giggles.

"Oh golly. I have been..." she wipes the amused tears from her eyes, still giggling. "I have been hanging out with Terry /way/ too much, clearly, y'all starting to become a bad influence on me."

The long-suppressed Iowa accent's starting to come through more steadily, and Caitlin drains her winecup and gets to her feet (albeit a little unsteadily). "I think I'm gonna-- gon' go before I start lecturin' ev'ryone about behavioural cognition, then. I've only got a minor in that, y'know," she adds with a conspiratorial sotto voce. "I wanted-- I wanted to get an MD along with my PhD, something in psychiatric sciences, and the dean-- she said..." Caitlin puts a hand on Donna's shoulder, leans. "She said that'd be -crazy-."

There's another snort-laugh from the redhead and she straightens again and hooks a finger through the wine jug. "So I'm gonna go, and I'm gon' take this with me," she says, hefting the jug, "which I earned because I spent the last half-day in surgery, and then... find somewhere to get the rest of my crying done where I'm not gonna embarrass anyone but myself. So...." she purses her lips, thinking, and moving gracelessly towards the door. "Come morning, rattle the topiary and make sure I didn't pass out in the garden somewhere?"