[She lets her eyes track the punching bag for a brief moment, back and forth, trying to center herself, calm her pounding heart. He's standing, breathing, but what if he wasn't? What if she'd gone too far? What if...? A dozen scenarios run through her mind in those few seconds, each worse than the last, tearing away little pieces of her heart.
She's spiraling, setting herself up to drown in guilt for that one thoughtless act, and then he speaks, jolting her mind to a stop.
He doesn't tell her it's okay (it's not, she thinks that maybe even he knows that), but he says he knows her better for it. In a way, he does. It has been a very long time since Diana has lost herself like that, let herself go for even a second. The risks have always been too great. But here in this dank sparring ring, she did. He didn't even really goad her to it; maybe if he'd tried to, she would have had the wherewithal to remember who she is and what she can do when she doesn't pay attention.
I know you better. She can't help it; her lips curve into the slightest smile, the barest tell that he's stemmed the guilt (for the moment). She rubs the palm of one hand over the knuckles of the other, as if she can still feel the impact of them landing against his abdomen. Of how real it felt.]
That's a very Amazonian take.
[Her voice is wry, but at least it's no longer emotionless, bottled up.]
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i did, thank you!
She's spiraling, setting herself up to drown in guilt for that one thoughtless act, and then he speaks, jolting her mind to a stop.
He doesn't tell her it's okay (it's not, she thinks that maybe even he knows that), but he says he knows her better for it. In a way, he does. It has been a very long time since Diana has lost herself like that, let herself go for even a second. The risks have always been too great. But here in this dank sparring ring, she did. He didn't even really goad her to it; maybe if he'd tried to, she would have had the wherewithal to remember who she is and what she can do when she doesn't pay attention.
I know you better. She can't help it; her lips curve into the slightest smile, the barest tell that he's stemmed the guilt (for the moment). She rubs the palm of one hand over the knuckles of the other, as if she can still feel the impact of them landing against his abdomen. Of how real it felt.]
That's a very Amazonian take.
[Her voice is wry, but at least it's no longer emotionless, bottled up.]