I know nothing about sailor moon so based on vibes / appearance alone, I think I'd like sailor neptune, jupiter, or mercury !

[ ϟ ]—– The sky had split open in a long, pale seam of light, as though some titan hand had drawn a blade from horizon to zenith and left the wound open. The storm rolled as a rumbling breath, a low, living resonance over stone and bone alike, and the god stood within it as unyielding cliff near a restless, violent shore, braced, stilled, utterly defiant.

She came out of that radiance not with the haste of a mortal hero answering alarm, but with the grave inevitability of a meteor falling exactly where it has always meant to strike.

Thunderer's gaze found hers; there was fire in her eyes, frame and posture speaking of strength that could bury empires. The god had faced warriors who postured divinity like armor, yet she wore it as something effortless, and unarguable.

' So...' the Asgardian spoke at last, roar of skies threading through the deep bass. ' This seems to be a divine matter entirely.'

The ground between them bore the scars of what had summoned them both; an outline of violence and sigils cut too deep into the skin of the earth, the air tasting of something bitter. It was not the ruin that held his interest at this moment however, it was her, bright and terrible, justice unsoftened by time, the living echo of myth that refused to fade.

Golden head inclined in greeting, gesture of courtesy and recognition, warrior to warrior, sovereign storm to sovereign truth.

"Diana." Lilia's voice was filled with quiet admiration. "Look what you did."

+ @apolytia asked: "The words you said to me earlier. What do they mean?"

+ " Which ones ? " Certainly, once she got on a role, there was no stopping Mary Jane from stringing sentences together that might as well have been MUSIC in their own right . One could almost get LOST in trying to decipher what their meaning truly was . But as she looked back at Diana now, she knew that certainly one of them had perked an ear .

ᴰᴼ ‎ ‎ ‎ ᴺᴼᵀ ‎ ‎ ‎ ᴳᴼ ‎ ‎ ‎ ɢᴇɴᴛʟᴇ ‎ ‎ ‎ ᴵᴺᵀᴼ ‎ ‎ ‎ ᵀᴴᴬᵀ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𝑮𝑶𝑶𝑫 ‎ ‎ ‎ 𝑵𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻.

her‎ ‎ back‎ ‎ is‎ ‎ against‎ ‎ the‎ ‎ tree,‎ ‎ one‎ ‎ leg‎ ‎ bent,‎ ‎ the‎ ‎ other‎ ‎ stretched‎ ‎ out,‎ ‎ as‎ ‎ the‎ ‎ huntress‎ ‎ perches‎ ‎ cautiously,‎ ‎ catching‎ ‎ her‎ ‎ breath,‎ ‎ deep‎ ‎ and‎ ‎ slow,‎ ‎ inhaling‎ ‎ the‎ ‎ city‎ ‎ noise‎ ‎ and‎ ‎ the‎ ‎ aftermath‎ ‎ of‎ ‎ the‎ ‎ combat‎ ‎ in‎ ‎ a‎ ‎ measured,‎ ‎ careful‎ ‎ rhythm.‎ ‎ a‎ ‎ hand‎ ‎ is‎ ‎ pressed‎ ‎ to‎ ‎ her‎ ‎ side‎ ‎ where‎ ‎ crimson‎ ‎ has‎ ‎ dried‎ ‎ upon‎ ‎ her‎ ‎ armoured‎ ‎ suit; ‎ a‎ ‎ crossbow‎ ‎ rests‎ ‎ precariously‎ ‎ against‎ ‎ her,‎ ‎ the‎ ‎ weapon‎ ‎ set ‎ loose‎ ‎ but‎ ‎ always‎ ‎ in‎ ‎ sight,‎ ‎ always‎ ‎ in‎ ‎ reach.

this‎ ‎ isn’t‎ ‎ agony‎ ‎ or‎ ‎ turmoil‎ ‎ on‎ ‎ her‎ ‎ grittily‎ ‎ human‎ ‎ body.‎ ‎ this‎ ‎ is‎ ‎ only‎ ‎ the‎ ‎ aftermath‎ ‎ of‎ ‎ another‎ ‎ job‎ ‎ well‎ ‎ done,‎ ‎ succeeded.‎ ‎ in‎ ‎ every‎ ‎ inaudible‎ ‎ groan‎ ‎ and‎ ‎ every‎ ‎ bead‎ ‎ of‎ ‎ sweat‎ ‎ that's‎ ‎ ignored,‎ ‎ there‎ ‎ is‎ ‎ a‎ ‎ song‎ ‎ of‎ ‎ contentment;‎ ‎ it‎ ‎ sings‎ ‎ through‎ ‎ the‎ ‎ huntress’‎ ‎ bow.

though‎ ‎ she‎ ‎ may‎ ‎ not‎ ‎ look‎ ‎ up‎ ‎ right‎ ‎ away,‎ ‎ neither‎ ‎ the‎ ‎ arrival‎ ‎ of‎ ‎ sudden‎ ‎ company‎ ‎ nor‎ ‎ the‎ ‎ good-mannered‎ ‎ question‎ ‎ disconcerts‎ ‎ the‎ ‎ masked‎ ‎ vigilante.”

“no,‎ ‎ not‎ ‎ at‎ ‎ all,”‎ ‎ a‎ ‎ shake‎ ‎ of‎ ‎ her‎ ‎ head‎ ‎ as‎ ‎ she‎ ‎ replies,‎ ‎ scrambling‎ ‎ gracefully‎ ‎ to‎ ‎ make‎ ‎ room‎ ‎ for‎ ‎ the‎ ‎ other‎ ‎ —‎ ‎ rather‎ ‎ generously,‎ ‎ like‎ ‎ helena‎ ‎ is‎ ‎ already‎ ‎ careful‎ ‎ to‎ ‎ not‎ ‎ encroach‎ ‎ on‎ ‎ personal‎ ‎ space.‎ ‎ “by‎ ‎ all‎ ‎ means,‎ ‎ feel‎ ‎ free.”

relocating‎ ‎ her‎ ‎ crossbow‎ ‎ to‎ ‎ a‎ ‎ safer‎ ‎ place‎ ‎ out‎ ‎ of‎ ‎ sight,‎ ‎ huntress‎ ‎ sighs‎ ‎ as‎ ‎ she‎ ‎ takes‎ ‎ off‎ ‎ her‎ ‎ mask‎ ‎ and‎ ‎ sets‎ ‎ it‎ ‎ aside,‎ ‎ letting‎ ‎ the‎ ‎ air‎ ‎ move‎ ‎ through‎ ‎ her‎ ‎ chest‎ ‎ in‎ ‎ heavy‎ ‎ pulls‎. ‎‎ ‎ she‎ ‎ wipes‎ ‎ the‎ ‎ blood‎ ‎ off‎ ‎ her‎ ‎ face‎ ‎ with‎ ‎ a‎ ‎ handkerchief‎ ‎ retrieved‎ ‎ from‎ ‎ her‎ ‎ utility‎ ‎ belt,‎ ‎ pale‎ ‎ fabric‎ ‎ already‎ ‎ smeared‎ ‎ and‎ ‎ useless,‎ ‎ but‎ ‎ the‎ ‎ little‎ ‎ pressure‎ ‎ of‎ ‎ the‎ ‎ touch‎ ‎ keeps‎ ‎ her‎ ‎ steady.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ another‎ ‎ sigh‎ ‎ is‎ ‎ heaved,‎ ‎ and‎ ‎ helena‎ ‎ feels‎ ‎ cleaner,‎ ‎ readier,‎ ‎ less‎ ‎ messy,‎ ‎ still‎ ‎ beholden‎ ‎ to‎ ‎ her‎ ‎ duty,‎ ‎ but‎ ‎ right‎ ‎ now,‎ ‎ she‎ ‎ is‎ ‎ awfully,‎ ‎ ordinarily‎ ‎ human;‎ ‎ ‘what‎ ‎ a‎ ‎ good‎ ‎ thing‎ ‎ to ‎ be,’‎ ‎ she‎ ‎ mentally‎ ‎ remarks‎ ‎ with‎ ‎ sincerity.‎ ‎ ‘as‎ ‎ rare‎ ‎ as‎ ‎ it‎ ‎ is.’

chest‎ ‎ heaving‎ ‎ noticeably‎ ‎ slower,‎ ‎ helena‎ ‎ finally‎ ‎ turns‎ ‎ to‎ ‎ face‎ ‎ her‎ ‎ companion‎ ‎ and‎ ‎ observe‎ ‎ the‎ ‎ other‎ ‎ with‎ ‎ adequate‎ ‎ depth; ‎ ‘a‎ ‎ warrior,’‎ ‎ stronger‎ ‎ than‎ ‎ huntress,‎ ‎ yet‎ ‎ she‎ ‎ radiates‎ ‎ a‎ ‎ sort‎ ‎ of‎ ‎ honour‎ ‎ helena‎ ‎ can‎ ‎ only‎ ‎ attribute‎ ‎ to‎ ‎ not‎ ‎ kings‎ ‎ and‎ ‎ rulers,‎ ‎ but‎ ‎ to‎ ‎ the‎ ‎ inherent‎ ‎ goodness‎ ‎ of‎ ‎ the‎ ‎ world.‎ ‎ helena’s ‎ compelled‎ ‎ to‎ ‎ add,‎ ‎ ‘and‎ ‎ also‎ ‎ more‎ ‎ than‎ ‎ a‎ ‎ warrior.’

however,‎ ‎ huntress ‎ doesn't‎ ‎ know‎ ‎ how‎ ‎ to‎ ‎ draw‎ ‎ the‎ ‎ suitable‎ ‎ conclusion.

“have‎ ‎ we‎ ‎ met‎ ‎ before?”‎ ‎ she‎ ‎ asks,‎ ‎ question‎ ‎ as‎ ‎ bold‎ ‎ as‎ ‎ the‎ ‎ clean‎ ‎ shot‎ ‎ of‎ ‎ a‎ ‎ bolt,‎ ‎ formalities‎ ‎ merely ‎ discarded.‎ ‎ “you‎ ‎ seem‎ ‎ terribly‎ ‎ familiar,‎ ‎ but‎ ‎ i‎ ‎ prefer ‎ not ‎ to‎ ‎ guess‎ ‎ aimlessly ‎ — ‎ besides,‎ ‎ i‎ ‎ have ‎ the‎ ‎ feeling‎ ‎ you‎ ‎ probably ‎ already‎ ‎ get‎ ‎ that‎ ‎ a‎ ‎ lot.”

would‎ ‎ be‎ ‎ quite‎ ‎ hard‎ ‎ to‎ ‎ not‎ ‎ hear‎ ‎ that‎ ‎ question,‎ ‎ huntress‎ ‎ doesn't‎ ‎ say;‎ ‎ the‎ ‎ stranger ‎ looks‎ ‎ like‎ ‎ wonder‎ ‎ woman,‎ ‎ and‎ ‎ yet.

❝ i've seen you interacting with the bat, has he sent you to investigate me ? ❞ he aims to not sound accusatory, and really just a poor attempt at curiosity, but his wariness probably didn't make him seem any less suspicious.

“oh,‎ ‎ di,‎ ‎ the‎ ‎ pleasure‎ ‎ is‎ ‎ all‎ ‎ mine,”‎ ‎ a‎ ‎ smile‎ ‎ works‎ ‎ its‎ ‎ way‎ ‎ across‎ ‎ huntress'‎ ‎ lips‎ ‎ as‎ ‎ she‎ ‎ continues‎ ‎ to‎ ‎ spectate‎ ‎ her‎ ‎ valentine’s‎ ‎ reaction ‎ with‎ ‎ awe‎ ‎ and‎ ‎ admiration;‎ ‎ diana‎ ‎ feels‎ ‎ with‎ ‎ all‎ ‎ of‎ ‎ her‎ ‎ heart,‎ ‎ which‎ ‎ she‎ ‎ wears ‎ on‎ ‎ her‎ ‎ soul‎ ‎ and‎ ‎ her‎ ‎ sleeves,‎ ‎ and‎ ‎ she‎ ‎ lights‎ ‎ up‎ ‎ like‎ ‎ northern‎ ‎ lights,‎ ‎ bringing‎ ‎ hue‎ ‎ and‎ ‎ animation‎ ‎ to‎ ‎ the‎ ‎ grey‎ ‎ backdrop‎ ‎ of‎ ‎ helena’s‎ ‎ life.‎ ‎ really,‎ ‎ what‎ ‎ more‎ ‎ can‎ ‎ the‎ ‎ archer‎ ‎ ask‎ ‎ for?