June 15, 8:32 p.m.
"Exactly how was it you kept pulling your stitches? You know you were only making things worse." The stark woman stared down at the young woman somewhat propped up on the couch, red-brown eyes staring in to fiery red. Short black hair was kept in a wild near-bob, a contrast to the lengthy mane pooled behind the girl's shoulders and falling over the arm of the couch. Red-brown narrowed for a moment, pale lips thinning and whitening as she behind the various protective bandages peeking under the nightshirt. "Why were you even out when the outage happened? You should have used your car or at least called--"
"I know, mom. As we've been over almost every day since." Exasperation warred with affection and pure exhaustion as Danika rolled her eyes. This was an argument they'd been having since her mother first arrived at the hospital. Back on May 3rd. Homicide Detective and predominantly single mother, Josselyn Teresi had stood near vigil while the doctors had stitched her daughter back up--or so Danika later heard. She hadn't exactly been lucid during the events themselves. But the moment full consciousness had taken hold of her, Danika found herself juggling both tenacious aspects of her mother--the cop, and the mom. It'd almost been a relief to have the detectives handling the case finally coax Josselyn from the hospital room to take the young woman's statement. One Danika had been happy to give, telling as much of the truth as she could of the attack. "And as I keep saying: how was I supposed to know one of those freaks in costume would be out?"
Just like the pair who'd taken her statement weeks prior, Josselyn frowned. They'd been among the many to see the news report showing how the Negaverse were the ones trying to protect the city. That Danika had named one as directly being her attacker--and not one of the senshi as they'd assumed when she began mentioning "freak in a costume"--had caused an exhausting ring of only faintly re-worded questions. All aimed to ensure she was saying a Nega attacked her. Beat the s**t out of her. Broke bones. Tore open skin. Danika never wavered, and threw his damned name about as often as she could. Even there in her apartment, staring across the room to where her mother stood near the door, she refused to waver. "Can I just take the test for a pistol permit already? Least next time I can have a bit of backup--"
"That is not funny, Danika--"
"Hey I saw him bleed! Dude was still human! A shot to the kneecap--"
"Danika Teresi."
Her mouth clicked close with a scowl. It was a moot argument. Though she'd long sought to do more than take a class every now and then on handling a pistol, since obtaining the mantel of Themiscyra she wasn't entirely convinced it was the most... effective means of protection any more. Or maybe it was, with her lack of... proper weaponry. The main reason she kept the argument up even was to try and not give her mother any more reason to worry. Try and convince her her daughter was still her, nothing changed.
Yet as the girl lay there under blankets despite the AC pumping away elsewhere in the apartment, she hid away the ring she knew her mother couldn't see for what it really was anyways. Couldn't tell how big a deal it was. The ring she'd seen... elsewhere, earlier that day. . .
June 15, 7 a.m.
The gashes were healing. Bit by bit. She knew that. The stitches would have been out at the end of May, had she not done exactly what she told her doctor, her mother, Dominic, Chris.... and really everyone who bothered to say anything to her on it, what she wouldn't do. Get up, run around, overexert herself. Because just sitting around doing nothing was bullshit in her mind.
She'd done exactly what she wanted to. Transformed into Themiscyra, walked around. Patrolled. She hadn't engaged in any fights--she knew better than that, at least. But she'd wandered, jogged now and then. Threw a few trial punches and kicks when she really probably shouldn't have. It'd been the transformations that seemed to do the worst to the stitches and healing injuries. It'd been her additional--minor--antics that had caused further strain to the sites. Of course, the recent incident on Uranus hadn't... uh. Helped. Helped her anyways. Sitting at home? Even Danika could grudgingly agree she would have been mostly back to full game by now.
Did that stop her from grumbling each time Dom or someone pointed things out, or otherwise try to distract her? Nope.
They meant well. She knew it. Didn't change the fact she was restless. That not even burrowing into her workroom helped. Neither graphics or fabric held any appeal to her. She wanted to be out. Wanted to be away. Wanted to be Themiscyra. She'd spoken to Dom against last night, hung out for a little while. He'd departed saying he'd be back again today--something about watching movies on the couch. Danika glanced at the clock. She'd barely slept, too much pent up energy. It'd be a good chunk of the day before Dom came over.
There was time to run. She took it. Didn't pause, didn't hesitate. Powered up right there in her apartment--she didn't dare take the chance she'd come back too late and find Dominic standing in her apartment with her wandering around outside. Never mind risk running into him. Or anyone else. No. She was running. Away. Out of reach. Get away from the city. Away from the stifling, the constricting, the restlessness. Her only pause had been to wrap bandages around her various healing wounds, having to take the majority of her uniform off in the process. A risky situation if another powered decided to track her signature, but one she was feeling reckless enough to take. Only once she felt the heavy padding and makeshift bracing she'd done wouldn't disrupt her injuries too much did she settle back on the couch and close her eyes.
One city for another, her finger tangled in the small chain from her earring. She'd been looking at the sky the last few nights, when the lights of the city dimmed at the deepest point of night or nearer dawn if she was up. Now and then, she'd see it. That glint of red. Stir crazy, she'd even begun looking at images of the red planet that were beamed back from the robots. Humoring herself, wondering if she'd catch a glimpse. Wanted more than a glimpse. It'd been a while since she'd gone.
"I pledge my life and loyalty to Mars, and to Themiscyra. I humbly request your aid, so that in return I may give you mine."
The shift was near instantaneous. The gradual warmth surrounded her, dry and comforting. Even as her arm throbbed at the reflex to shoot it out to try and balance herself suddenly standing, even as her leg shot warning sparks up her nerves at the sudden impact of sandal against hard ground.... She breathed in deep the Martian air, and opened her eyes to the new dawn rising over the ancient city. She was back at the first square, the same one she'd seen when she'd first arrived with Valhalla. The three women stood, weather worn yet still of remarkable detail. Stern eyes, all turned towards the entrance of the city. Waiting. Watching. Judging. Chained weapons were held aloft by each, at the ready. A warning. An eternal warning to all who stepped within the walls.
For a long moment, she lingered there, trailing slowly around the massive space. Peeking at where it looked like stores might have been, stalls. Places to gather, linger. Sell, buy, trade? Always, did her eyes travel back to the three women. The city... didn't hold the same tension she'd experienced last time. Had it really been Valhalla's presence? She gave a snort. More likely, she'd been too much in her own head, letting the stories of Wonder Woman's Themiscyra take hold.
One of the main streets stretched out to her right, and red eyes followed it carefully. She could see it, far ahead, the massive hill that rose out of the city, forcing it upward, spiraling around the miniature mount. The higher up her eyes traveled, the more she could make out cliffs of sorts, larger and grander buildings that spread further and further out from what she could make out from there. At its peak? The grandest building? Hard to say. Her gaze traveled back down, across the red stone and sand-strewn street. A great deal of the city lay between her and the central rise. She wanted a place to escape to, to hide away from people for a while. Where she could stretch her muscles and not have to worry about a lecture.
Well. She had just that. And then some, she added with a wary glance around the massive city. She couldn't even begin to fathom how many people must have lived there.
Nor did she want to start. The chill that brief thought alone--and where they now?--was enough to have her quickly drop the subject.
As she walked, it didn't take long for her to begin noticing architectural patterns. Roman architecture was clearly a prime source of inspiration, and the section she walked was obviously one great pride and wealth had been put into. She could still see the ornate carvings along pillars and columns, decorative paintings faded over the doorways of some buildings. Symbols were carved here and there into stone--on the buildings, on columns, into doors if they still stood... even into the streets themselves, she noticed now and then as she made it past a few other openings to slightly smaller streets. It took even longer though before she began to realize the patterns in the carvings. Similar symbols repeated in places of honor, massive compared to more symbols under or around them. Those larger symbols were also evident on a few statues she found, outcroppings of carvings that had been worn away in time. The further in she wandered, the more buildings she peeked into, the more she could catch glimpses of those symbols. The more she began to find inner walls, too. The massive walls along the outside--thick as they were, filled with halls by which archers could hide and weapons could be mounted to attack any who dared challenge them--were repeated in sort by defensive walls, before which lay large patches of yellow grass and winding, broken paths. She could imagine they had once been perhaps gardens of sorts, or maybe just simple places to gather before the... walls? Separation of what from what? She'd found only one such wall thus far, but could easily imagine more existed further in. That the entrance ways still had towers standing on either side where guards would have stood only convinced her something was either kept out, or something else kept in.
"Where's my tourist guide translation when I need it," she grumbled into the open window of one building, spotting more of the symbols in a relief against a far wall. Whatever the symbols were, they were important. They were everywhere. Hell if she knew why. Grumbling as she moved back from the window, her steps began to falter a little. The throb in her right thigh was on the return, eating away bit by bit at her resolve to explore as much as she could. The sun was beginning to rise further in the sky--so much smaller than it was from earth, yet still just as capable of impressive heat--yet she didn't have a clue the exact time. A rest... wasn't out of order. Right? She wasn't ready to go home. Not yet. She'd barely gotten that far... just a handful of blocks at the most.
Which, for while under the boost of Themiscyra, was rather pathetic. Such a mood gripped her as she limped further down the wide street, peeking this way and that for a suitable place to flop down for a bit. It wasn't until she'd traveled another two blocks that she found such a place. Her limp was all the more prominent as she pushed open the ancient doors, marveling at the intricate designs still shown in relief on the stone and wood. Windows still maintained mosaic glass here--she'd begun to see more and more buildings deeper into the city that maintained more and more of these finer features. A tentative hand rested upon the doors, finding again the strange symbols among ornate carvings of women, chains, and flame. These women seemed peaceful however, welcoming those who passed through the doors. The fire and chains seemed more open, warm and inviting--be warmed by the flame, may the chains guide instead of bind you--in such a high contrast to the reliefs before the first inner wall.
As she stepped into the massive building though, she began to get a concept of why. From outside, she'd realized multiple large buildings seemed to be connected to one another by long arched halls, that even in the upper level of the buildings stood as columned and railed bridges of sorts. Within the first building, she could see upward to the ceiling of the third floor, a massive circular chamber stretching outward and upward to a domed top. A ceiling that still held large portions of a mosaic, figures moving gracefully through clouds and sand and water. Female figures. Pillars stretched upward across the floors, stone carved delicately as most were. Shelves stretched from floor to ceiling on each floor that she could glimpse from the ground, countless shelves of solid block, or blocks stacked together. It gave the impression sections of the building might have been once nothing but solid rock, carved into the wondrous shape it now took, with the excess stone used to create features in other, emptied areas. Likely not true, she realized as she peered at some of the different archways and shelves and nooks, but only showing the skill of the architects and builders.
What was even more mystifying was that the shelves... weren't empty. She could still locate wooden ladders--though some looked more worse for wear than others, and she wasn't sure how safe even the better looking ones were. Shelves were packed with scrolls and stone tablets. Ancient texts surrounded her, and it took a long. Long moment for the reality of her situation to sink into Danika's baffled and awed brain.
A library.
She was standing in a Martian, Themiscyrian library.
"God almighty," she breathed, almost afraid to disturb the silent air around her. It was almost easy to ignore her leg now, even as she limped slowly from shelf to shelf. She was afraid to touch the scrolls--some looked so dry and brittle, she was sure one wrong touch and they'd crumble to dust at her very breath. But some of the tablets she removed from their spots, running bewildered hands over the carved texts--symbols. "Martian language.... ********> The various carvings she'd seen on her way there was beginning to make more sense. Signs, she guessed. Directions, maybe. Prayers? Who knew. But it had all been writing, in a language long forgotten.
For a moment, there was a spark of hope, as she peered down at the text before her. She was Martian, right? She was a knight of Mars. The knight of Themiscyra, in the city of Themiscyra. So she should be able to figure this out, right? It was how it always worked in the movies and books. Stuff just clicked.
Screw logic! That's what Hollywood and DC Comics and Marvel taught her. Screw logic, s**t just happens. Hell, that's how it was when she awoke as a knight.
"....or maybe logic wins this round," Danika huffed after her head began to pound for how long she'd stared at the still baffling collection of carved characters and symbols. Replacing the tablet she'd held, she continued on, no closer than she'd been before to understanding the collection around her. It was... a painful thing. So much knowledge. So much information. The shelves weren't full, but there was still a great deal left in this section of the library--and she hadn't even explored the whole thing yet, or the other buildings. For all the imposing statues of warriors she'd seen thus far, it was clear the people of Themiscyra hadn't been slacking off in the education department, either.
Fingers trailed over the hard stone of the shelves, finding herself more and more struck by how useful this information could be. So close... yet so painfully far. Literally, at her fingertips. Did anyone out there know the language still? Kairatos, maybe? Someone? Anyone?
The young woman turned a corner, rounding the end of one of the shelving units, when her eye caught on something on a far wall. Another symbol. A symbol she'd seen repeated here and there, one of the important ones. She blinked, peering at it. Her head hurt still, pounding in time with the pulse in her thigh. It was illuminated by the light from some of the windows-----
- "---with all due respect, the tournament will be held just beyond a month's sights of Deimos. Instructions were given to the artisans and architects, but--"
Her hand lifted, the ring of Themiscyra flickering in the light fractured and spiraled down from the mosaic windows. "Those in the theatres practice, just as those in the training fields spar. The merchants have already begun to gather and stockpile. I've seen the preparations in the inns and in the arena fields." She paused, running over a quick calculation in her head. Deimos' viewing orbit ranged around five days from when it appeared in their skies, to the vanishing, and reappearance. Her eyes slid close briefly, irises rolling towards the sky as the calculation hit home. Five and a half months approximate. She didn't even lift her head from the table she was leaning over, though as she let her hand come back to rest on the stone surface, her fingers drummed against it once. "There is enough time for preparations to complete. I have long since sent word to others, and made the necessary announcements here. A year ago, to be precise," she added in a slightly louder, harder voice as the woman behind her began to voice more objections.
She wasn't to be deterred. Not a fault, but a trait to be praised. "What of your chains then? Will you relinquish them to be tended to as they should be?" No, not a fault. But though her boldness was praised by many, in this moment it was nearly an annoyance.
Her head shook, looking back to the parchment set before her. A quill was dipped into a deep well of ink carved into stone, before setting back to the parchment. "There is no need for us to be separated. Tradition would be useless in this. After all, our own tradition keeps them close to the knight--as you yourself told me, numerous times." It was hard not keeping the humor, the tease, from her voice, and behind her she could hear the other woman huff and mumble something beneath her breath. A sign of the more personal moments they shared, beyond the duty of their ranks. Though she did not laugh, she felt a smile flit briefly across her lips. "Do not stress yourself on this. It is not my first tournament."
Again the woman began to object, but for the moment she was ignored, flourishing the quill in a last symbol at the bottom of the page. Her eyes lingered atop that symbol, the curves and marks so familiar to her. The page consumed the ink, and the stain held. As would what it represented, the-----
-----"Com... pact...?"
The Page blinked her eyes, leaning heavily into the shelving unit beside her. The symbol still stood in the carved relief far before her. The same that she'd seen on the message that... she, had been writing..? It made no sense. It didn't... look like the library, but the red stone around her had looked like the majority of the city. The woman... she couldn't recall the person she'd been speaking to. Tournament? What tournament? The message itself that she'd been writing still made no sense. Indeed, when she got the strength back to move, as she picked up another tablet there was not a lick of translation to be found in her head. Yet... she had been writing in the language..? When? How?
A gradual chill began to swirl its way up her spine as the young woman looked back to the far wall, the altar beneath that symbol. Symbol of.... the Compact..? That's what she was thinking when she looked at the symbol, anyways.
"What... is the Compact?"
It was an answer she was no closer to by the time she returned home, powering down to collapse into her couch and peer anxiously at her cell with the multiple texts and a few missed calls. From Dom. The greater chill though, had been recognizing the ring on that hand. The one she herself wore now, clear as day to her own eyes even in plain clothes. Yet the skin under the ring... had been far darker. The voice had not sounded like her own. Danika shivered under the power of the AC in her apartment and pulled a throw blanket over herself as she tried to relax... before she even began to think about trying to contact Dominic.
Not that she had much of a chance. It wasn't until around an hour later that her mother showed up.
Word count: 3,659 | Solo x3
