Even as Diana speaks, Steve can feel a gnawing disquietude behind every grateful beat of his heart. How can he accept that this is as real as he wants it to be ( as real as the sensation of her fingers brushing against his jaw, his cheekbones )? He can’t permit himself to become complacent in the moment, not when he can still easily recall the resignation which had settled within him before, in the moment he had realized that they needed to let go so she might save the world — and then her lips are pressing against his. For now, that’s all Steve requires to dispel his trepidation to the outskirts of his mind. Despite its tenderness, it’s imbued with a weight he isn’t fully capable of expounding upon. As they part far too soon, the temptation to chase after another kiss is circumvented only by the way in which Diana’s eyes utterly arrest him when they meet once more: she’s always possessed the capacity to stop him dead in his tracks with that dark gaze, and perhaps sensing himself captured by it all over again is what sparks that quiet flare of hope within his chest all the brighter. “Twenty-twenty-one?” The short inquiry, laced with astonishment, encapsulates Steve’s awe; not only has he reached an age he had only ever anticipated visiting in science-fiction novels, but he’s breached thirty-seven years to experience it with her since their last reunion, and one hundred three all together. He can’t quite help the breath of a laugh which escapes him, a result of shocked amazement. “Twenty-twenty-one. I’m here, with you, in twenty-twenty-one.”
The incredulity is placed on hold when she pulls him towards the nearest open window ( their palms still pressed together, and he’s almost of a mind to never withdraw his ) to see a crow perched just outside. However, Steve’s attention is drawn to Diana as she explains her theory on the gods’ potential motivation for his return. He’s been past questioning any of this for some time; how could he not be, with everything he’s witnessed and experienced at her side? Only someone leaning upon willful ignorance would even make the attempt to dissuade themselves of the truth. Of course, her amused comment on his favorite invention during his ‘ absence ’ from Earth garners immediate recognition, alongside a widening of his blue eyes. “They still exist, thank god.” Then comes a pause. “Or — gods? Is that more, I don’t know, appropriate?” Steve’s inquiry, tinged with both humor and genuine relief, is halted when he looks to the crow ( really looks ) for the first time.
Suddenly, he’s somewhere else: scenes are there in front of him and then gone again just as fast, while whispered phrases he doesn’t understand border each of them. Is Diana wrong? Is he being pulled away like some sort of sick cosmic joke? With no warning, the flashes of vision are gone, as if they’re shut off like someone might turn on and off an overhead light. “Diana.” Her name leaves Steve’s lips as he takes an unconscious, unsteady step back from the window, blinking to reorient himself. It’s then that he registers how fiercely he’s been gripping her hand, his gaze searching falteringly until it finally lands upon her ( it seems as if he doesn’t breathe until that moment, prompting him to drag air back into his lungs ). “I saw something, a lot of something. I don’t know how, but I think I know what they need.”
leaf in the wind glides over the inverted pyramid, at first disturbed by the flock of birds whom had taken to the skies, and carried upward on a stream of air, up up and away as a young woman watches it’s dance. something about it... something about the world around her in that moment felt charged in a way she’s only bore witness to a few times. hues watch the leaf’s dance as it continues it’s journey up past an open window of the museum until it flutters out of sight. the woman closes her eyes for a moment, a speed to her subsequent steps into the building.
meanwhile, a chant is uttered mentally by diana, a voice of gratitude offered to her family, the gods of old as she watches a leaf float in the wind: ‘efcharistó’, ‘efcharistó’, ‘efcharistó’. the gods-- still gaining strength from their battle millennia ago-- had once granted diana a gift in the form of a girl blessed by the gods to aid her in her worldly mission and now? now they had granted her another gift.. a gift she would cherish forever.
“twenty-twenty-one, yes. you are here. with me, my love.” thought is given as a curve is granted to her lips. the gods were at work after all this time. her father... her family ever-present regardless to her distance from them. “i will not pretend to have all the answers. the gods exist, but that is not to say others do not.”
footfalls echo against marble surfaces, a feeling of anticipation awaiting the girl as single steps give way to double steps. a card pulled out of pocket is swiped at a door allowing the woman access. her journey continues until she hears diana ask someone to come back to her and another voice, a male, stating he knew what someone wanted only for diana to question him. it’s that moment card is slid once more, allison trevor stepping forward into the room, so much the spiting image of her grandmother-- a grandmother who’s brother had been lost in the war that was said to end all wars. if only it had.
“diana w---” bag is dropped at allison’s feet, lips forming into an ‘o’ shape. he looked every bit the spitting image of the photographs she’s seen so many times previous. “-- the gods, they’ve brought you back uncle steve. i’m right aren’t i diana?” if only her grandmother could be alive to see this.
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