falling troia

no matter how destroyed she was, she still believed in love ( donna troy / wonder girl / troia. daughter of themyscira. wondrous and free ) {{ part of sokovia rising rp }}

[lunarwondcr]

thatstheangle​:

Angelo couldn’t resist a smile at what he was sure was a hint of genuine frustration in Donna’s dark eyes. He knew that they likely didn’t push this subject for a reason, lingering in their comfortable in-between where they didn’t have to admit to any genuine vulnerability. 

Or perhaps she was just humoring him, and didn’t like to be reminded of what she surely already knew—that Angelo genuinely cared for her. And had since he’d nearly died, and had only been able to think of finding his way to her. 

His smile didn’t fade when she told the boys no, though. It did waver, in surprise, when she amended with that yet. Surprise and pleasure. “And I am a very happy man for that,” Angelo added in Sokovian, to the table at large. Donna and cake-eating boys both. “Perhaps some day the answer will be yes.”

The waver in his smile told her all she had to know. There was still something there. It was reassuring in a way. She had died, come back to life, found a new way in this new world, and still could rely on his affection for her. Perhaps it was the most honest thing about him.

Months of affection and contact had not dulled his irritating nature, nor his penchant for thievery but, behind that, she was beginning to see the warmth in his voice when he spoke of things he loved, the light in his eyes when she offered up a gesture of care.

She smiled at the boys, who were watching with rapt attention, and ruffled their hair. "Eat your cake," she scolded gently in Sokovian before glancing back up at Angelo and canting her head slightly. "Perhaps some day," she said, switching back to English.

[lunarwondcr]

redplanetblueplanet​:

@lunarwondcr​

After three months away from the Mousehole, M’gann was back with a new mission. Admittedly, it was not quite as important a mission as the one she’d been on with Hal Jordan, but it was important to M’gann! She would polish every lamp, chandelier, sconce, and candle holder in the entire Mousehole. Oh, she would.

M’gann sat on the cool stone floor of the great hall, surrounded by unlit lights. Her mind was just beginning to get a little hazy from exhaustion and silver polish fumes. Surely, it must have been the fumes. She was getting her signals mixed. Diana in the war room. Diana in the hall. Diana coming nearer… Diana, but not Diana. It gave M’gann pause, but she shook her head and swatted the air to get a clean breath. It was impossible. It was the fumes. “I’ll have these back before it gets dark out, I swear.” Rag in hand, M’gann crossed her heart and hoped to be right on the timing, without even looking up when the door opened. Her heart was caught on a memory of a warm summer’s day and a tall, dark-haired girl laughing heartily while pouring delightfully cool ice cubes down M’gann’s back. Without looking up until it was impossible to deny. It was not the fumes. Then, she stared.

“Donna.”

.

News that M'gann had returned from the mission she had been undertaking for the past few months reached Donna relatively quickly, passed quickly through the grapevine of the Mousehole. She had given M'gann space to get settled back before she decided to seek the other out.

When she did, it was to find her sat surrounded by unlit lights and working on them relentlessly with polish. It wasn't surprising. M'gann always had loved a project to keep herself occupied. She lingered for a moment in the  doorway, listening with fondness as M'gann began to make the excuses. Then their gazes met and she held it. "M'gann. It has been...so long," she murmured, taking a few tentative steps further into the room, allowing the polish fumes to embrace her too.

[lunarwondcr]

loislanereportingin​:

She’s planned a place outside of Sokovia. It was for Steve’s benefit even if the building she chose was non descriptive and the backdrop for their interview was completely white and opaque. Lois wasn’t risking the location. She talked to Oracle already about encrypting the domain for her website and she was pretty sure she sounded like an idiot to someone as good at tech as Oracle was. What she got back was sophisticated and smart. Nearly untraceable according to Oracle’s hard work. This would be the first in many stories she was going to start dropping as she learned things. There were a lot of people to talk to and things to talk about. She and Peter Parker had their work cut out for them and she definitely didn’t mind the help wherever it came.

Donna was a connection she cashed in on as soon as she heard there was a story there. The ISA had gone after Wonder Woman’s little sisters. It was the kind of headline that would make people talk.

“Please,” she said. “Call me Lois. Your sister’s a good friend.” She was tiny compared to this Amazon. It was hilarious and she was glad they would be sitting for the interview. “Thank you for agreeing to do this. I really believe we need to start taking back the media from them one at a time. The harder we can swing with the truth hopefully the more cracks we can leave. It’s important, even if it’s slow work.”

Donna smiled indulgently down at the smaller woman, more than a little amused by the rather sizable height difference between them. As she shook the other woman's hand, she nodded in agreement. "Lois it is. Diana has spoken highly of you - i'm glad we finally got to meet," she said lightly, moving to take the seat she was gestured towards.

"And of course. I understand - it's a very noble mission you're setting out on." And one that would drag up countless stories if it went well. Donna's was the first of many - of that she had no doubt. The treatment she had undergone at the hands of the ISA was something she had kept close to her chest, to save causing further pain to those she loved, but it had been nothing short of traumatic.

"I'm more than happy to be helping with such an endeavour. Is there anything you'd like to go over with me first?" Donna asked, trying to shake the melancholy off before they had even begun.

[lunarwondcr]

@loislanereportingin

If there was one thing Donna could respect, it was integrity. Lois Lane had such a thing in spades, despite her latest feud with MJ Watson. Donna was well informed of the current state of affairs between the two and found it to be, if nothing else, a very intelligent way of creating buzz around a piece that deserved to be read. It was, however, more attention than she cared to have directed towards members of their team - something Lois was hopefully to be, should she ever want to be.

Still, she respected what the other woman was trying to do and so, had agreed to meet with her and speak about her experiences with the ISA. As she approached their meeting spot, Donna smiled politely and warmly at the other woman.

"Good afternoon, Miss Lane. It's a pleasure, as ever."

[lunarwondcr]

whoaindeed​:

What would be best for her. Hank weighed that, brow furrowed. She deserved to be known, to have that dignity. And if she’d never had a name of her own, if she couldn’t choose one herself, then he could, he’d name her, but - that seemed such an immense responsibility. Perhaps because he’d accepted more names than he’d picked, and it was habit that’d made them his, and - he’d want better, for her. The best, yes. Whatever that meant, for whatever she’d be. 

They’d find out. Day by day. Her purr, her easy-for-now heartbeat, rolled across the back of his neck as she slumped into one of her usual spots, draped and ready to doze. “Thank you. Yes - now. Now’s alright.” Hank sighed, glad and worn, and worried, but less. She’d already proven to be so very strong, after all. “There was a boy she knew, in that place. They escaped together. Survived the desert, for a while. He’s the only one, I imagine, who might’ve called her anything… meaningful.” Not a number, a code, something as empty and cruel as those cells. 

That poor boy. He’d had meaning, to her. Enough to risk sneaking back into the bunker she’d barely survived, over and over, just to sit with him. The memory of him, even. 

With an ache gathering high and heavy in his chest, Hank caught the sweep of his shadow’s tail, letting it grip around his knuckles and pulling, just a little. She creaked, curiously, and followed the point of his finger to Donna’s sweet face, those warmly brown eyes, so steady and serene. “She understands that he’s gone. She should know he wasn’t left there. Berto brought him out, and showed him the sun, and - made sure nobody could take anything from him, ever again.” The way Sinister’s people would have, constantly sampling, stealing biopsies and blood, pieces of him, testing, testing, testing. To see if they’d met the objectives of Nathaniel Essex. Hank wavered, furious and sore, swallowing it. “Tell her that, please. And see if they had names, for each other?” Her friend deserved one, too. Oh, they’d both deserved so much more. So, so much more than Sinister had ever imagined… 

.

Donna lapsed into a soft, reverent quiet as Hank spoke. This was grief and despair and everything shadowy and hard. The quiet was enough to let it sit respectfully for now.

As she turned to look at Donna, Donna softened her expression accordingly, arranging her features into a more open and welcoming look. Carefully, she reached out her hand, palm up, and waited for the sweet thing to initiate contact. "I'll make sure she knows," she confirmed before reaching out with that animal comprehension, the fine gift of Themyscira, and waiting patiently. Her mind was quiet and still, like the sweetest lake any creature could hope to set their gaze on, and she spoke quietly amongst it.

Hello. I am a friend of Hank. We wanted to reach out and see how you're doing? I hope you can understand me alright.

[lunarwondcr]

thatstheangle​:

Now, that was a question worth hearing an answer to. Funny how universal that word seemed to be. Angelo set his cup down with an absolutely devious smile, resting his elbows on the table and lacing his fingers together. "That is an excellent question,” he remarked in English, delighted.

(Technically. Technically. He wasn’t anything to her, was he? A fair-weather friend who came and went as he pleased, uncatchable as the air. And she was nothing to him, really. A lovely, unknowable creature of sun and starlight, something even he couldn’t steal for his own. There were no declarations or promises to bind them, nothing apart from their lengthy on-and-off flirtation and friendship. Donna Troy was, strictly speaking, nothing to him.

And yet she was so, so very much.)

“Yes, Donna,” Angelo began in Sokovian, leaning forward to tip his chin over his woven-together hands. “Is he your boyfriend?” he echoed, eyes alight with mischief. 

Donna raised her eyebrows at Angelo. That expression spelled nothing but trouble and she was already feeling a quiet tension headache start behind her eyes. Why had this ever seemed like a good idea to her? She drained the last of the coffee in her cup and set it down, before her grip tightened and she shattered the porcelain.

They had made no move to quantify what this was between them. Months of exchanging jazz songs, recipes, idle anecdotes serving only to make them feel closer in spirit and in geography and yet, not a label to be found. Could they even be considered friends? What would it mean to be Angelo's friend? She found the thought discomfiting. As though it did not quite speak to whatever this was between them. That, in itself, was unsettling.

She exhaled a sigh, returning the smile gently. There was less mischief there, something quieter and more introspective. "Not exactly," she offered in Sokovian. She was speaking ostensibly, to the boy who watched her rapt, but her gaze drifted up to Angelo again. "Not that yet."

[lunarwondcr]

thatstheangle​:

The way the boys squinted at Angelo let him know that they sincerely doubted that he ‘meant well’. He only sipped his cappuccino serenely at their scrutiny, and was pleased that before they could start their barrage of questions, the cake arrived. 

Not that it stopped the boys. 

They dug in like children who who weren’t sure where their next meal would come from, and who rarely got to eat something like cake, to boot. And yet they still managed to ask questions between bites, throwing him beady eyes between forkfuls. Angelo was grateful that he’d been spending more time in Sokovia, because otherwise the questions, all in their native tongue, would have gone completely over his head.

“How did you meet Donna?” 

“In a museum,” he answered simply, pleased with how easy the answer was to articulate. 

“When?” 

“Oh… two years ago? Maybe more.” 

“Are you someone important? You look rich,” the younger one asked, eyeing his suit dubiously. Angelo furrowed his brows, looking to Donna for a better translation (or, perhaps, an answer.) 

Donna hid her smile behind the rim of her coffee cup, eyes softening at the sight of Angelo and the kids conversing back and forth easily. His Sokovian was improving, even now. She kept abreast of the conversation however, a fact that she was thankful for when he looked at her - clearly asking for her help on that one. She chuckled a little and dipped her head. "They're saying you look rich," she said in English before smiling at the children.

"He dresses very well."

The answer was gentle and diplomatic. There was no reason to explain theft and class consciousness to poor children who already knew.

"He is...important to me. That's all you need to know," she said fondly.

The boy slanted her a dubious look before starting in again. "Why? Is he your boyfriend?"

[lunarwondcr]

divineblccd​:

@lunarwondcr​

Cassie had always assumed that when people found out Donna was her sister, they were immediately perplexed. She, herself, couldn’t believe it when she first found out, and it only became stranger the more time she spent with her. Donna was, in Cassie’s eyes, perfect. Had been ever since Cassie watched her fly around in her star-spangled red suit on the news while her mom tried to keep her head straight and do something with her knotted hair. People flocked to her, and that was just a coincidental perk to being Donna Troy. That effortless grace––Cassie was convinced that she was born with it…or, rather, crafted with it. Cassie, on the other hand, was the textbook example of an attention-seeker. She came out slimy with someone else’s blood, kicking and screaming, and she never changed. She was a troublemaker––uncontrolled, dramatic, sensitive. And she was Donna’s sister. Imagine that. 

She tore at the grass underneath her feet and glanced up when a shadow moved in front of the rising sun. Her pouting spot wasn’t as hidden as she wanted it be, but there only so many places to run away to on the castle grounds. “Can you explain to me how Damian could possibly be Dick’s brother,” Cassie glowered at the dandelion that dared to be so cheerfully yellow in her line of vision, “because I still haven’t figured it out after five years. Robin my fuckin’ ass.” Maybe, if she punched the trust-funded smirk off of his face, she wouldn’t feel so…small, like she was five years old and lost in the cereal isle again. Maybe, she could pretend not to see the irony with blood on her knuckles. 

Cassie was sulking. After her own talk with Damian, Donna knew that Cassie would be somewhere in a mood that could rival even Hera's on such a day. So, when she made her way out into the grounds, she wasn't surprised to see Cassie hidden away, pouting in a way that Donna could only describe as disgruntled. With an amused smile, she shifted to sit down by her sister, gracefully arranging her limbs into an elegant fold as she got comfortable for such a conversation. "It's been quite a while, yeah," she said instead of picking up on the bitterness.

"What has he done this time?" She asked, deftly picking up a few of the blades of grass that Cassie had ripped out and starting to twist them together in an elaborate braided system. "Tell me about it - as a sister, not as the HR specialist for once." She was certain Cassie would have plenty to say either way but she preferred to make it clear that she was there to be emotional support, not to make the Mousehole run smoothly. Not this time.

[lunarwondcr]

onetruewayne​:

How to make it less frequent that Damian didn’t trust anyone here? Just talk to people. Get to know them. Make connections. Stupid advice, Helena. What was he supposed to do with that? “Anyone here could decide one day that they don’t think it is safe to have people with powers running around unsupervised and call in Lex Luthor. Father does his best, but he is one man and the cast of clowns we call allies could become a revolving door once we start working outside of Sokovia. He is limited by Diana and the Captain America as well. Their policy of… trust.”

Damian thrust his arm out, slicing sharply into the air. He let the momentum of the punch carry him through to a roll and popped back up onto his feet, facing the other way. “I took it upon myself to… tighten the security. Father did not appreciate the efforts.”

Donna would entertain his concerns. That was, after all, her job, and she wasn't about to take anything he said less seriously just because he did it with a bad attitude. "So you're concerned that we're being too lax about who we let into the Mousehole and how we treat our allies?" She asked, voice clear and even. She was asking for clarification, not accusing. That was the most important part of the conversation, she figured. Damian would respond ill to the idea that she was implying he was wrong in any respect.

"I understand. I think there's always scope to improve security measures but equally, I think your father is very concerned with security too - perhaps it's best that you ask to be involved on his side, rather than both of you working in opposition. Surely that'll only weaken our security if you're fighting against one another."

[lunarwondcr]

whoaindeed​:

Hank had cleared the nearest lab chair - the more comfortable kind - for Donna, and perched easily on the countertop, his shadow still happily slung across his shoulders. “She can be. She is, really. Just shy, to start.” But this was going better than most first meetings, already. Lovely. 

As was that assurance that everyone else from the Nevada team was on the docket, for these check-ins. Understandable, that he’d be first. Logan would fight it tooth and claw. Berto… it was a strange grief he’d brought back out of that desert, one few could even begin to comprehend. (Not none, though. Especially on their roster.) “He’ll heal.” Hank insisted, gently. Certain, or, at least, wishing very sincerely that he was. “Whether or not he’ll accept any help, on the way, that’s - well. We’ll see.” They would indeed. 

A name, though. Something else he didn’t know. Though, it wasn’t quite that simple, was it? Hank glanced over at the quite feline face peering across his shoulder, that golden gaze flicking from Donna to him. “There’s… a shortlist, but. I’ve hesitated? I - it’s just that I’m not sure she had one, before she found us. Possibly, but…” Not in that grey, steelclad bunker, he’d suspect. Perhaps from that friend she’d come back to find. That poor child, brought into the world from a few specks of Sunspot. 

Hank huffed, quietly. “I was hoping, actually, that you, or Diana, could… ask her? Sometime.” Diana set such a standard; but none of her fellow Wonders had ever proven less, well, wonderful. So incredibly kind. Far as he’d been given to understand, the power he’d set that hope on was gentle. Not so unsettling as telepathy might be, to one of Sinister’s victims. “Just to see? In case there’s something she’d like to be called. Though I have no idea what sort of answers she might have, if any.” She shoved that snout into his palm, under his fingers. “It’s difficult to gauge much of anything. In such a genuinely unique situation.” As so many of their situations were. Their little survivor thrummed, a surprisingly deep, rolling purr, as Hank scratched at the dark, whiskered spots over her eyes. “Do you think it’s wise, to try? Now?” So soon. “Or - this could wait, too…“ 

Donna made a quiet sound under her breath, a short acknowledgement regarding Roberto, as she perched on the cleared lab chair gratefully. She jotted it down next to her notes from the debrief before returning her attention to Hank and the new arrival. His request wasn't one she had expected but it was hardly a taxing one. So Donna smiled warmly, indulgently so, and nodded her head. "I'd be more than happy to do it or to pass your request onto Diana. Whatever you think would be best for her."

And then Hank continued to speak and Donna shook her head. "Not at all. I'm more than happy to try now - like I say, I have plenty of time before I'm due to find Roberto anyway," she said. "Is there a way you think would be best to do so? I will do my best to be very gentle with her."

[lunarwondcr]

thatstheangle​:

The children looked wary, swaying closer to their patron saint and watching Angelo with uncertain eyes. He didn’t fault them for it, of course. Though it wasn’t particularly endearing, was it, street urchins eyeing you so suspiciously?

Ah. It was a good thing the lovely Troia’s many gifts did not include telepathy.

“Maybe just for a little while,” the smaller boy suggested, looking around before dragging a chair over for himself. The other still looked wary, shuffling his feet awkwardly, but sat down at the edge of the chair with his companion. “Who is that, Donna?” the smaller boy asked her, wary. 

Angelo hid a smile behind his cappuccino. 

Donna smiled softly as they eventually came to accept the offer. She glanced over at Angelo to check his comfort with the situation, although he seemed mostly fond for the moment.

And so, she glanced back to the boys and chuckled faintly, unsure how to explain who Angelo was.

In the end, she settled for a simple; "This is my friend, Angelo. He means well, just as I do." Hopefully it would assuage their questions for time being. If not, the waiter was already beginning to weave his way back to their table and she was certain cake would occupy their attention.

She murmured a quiet thanks in Sokovian before sliding the plates towards them. "Here, have as much as you'd like."

[lunarwondcr]

onetruewayne​:

When he was a child, every moment was a moment to push through, to learn, peace was for people who were strong enough to have earned it. Training in Gotham was more structured, strict times for school and rest, time he dictated for himself and felt wildly rebellious to use for video games or secret art projects, often lashing out if he was caught not using every minute to better his abilities. It felt like weakness to want to sketch another angle of his dog on his belly or watch a video tutorial on watercolor shading he still hadn’t mastered. But it was because his body needed to recover from training. Constant tension was bad for a growing body, as Alfred would say. “I don’t imagine you really know much of fathers.”

“No, he isn’t-” Damian stopped himself, huffing. “Father isn’t the problem. He’s… trying. He tries. I am known for being difficult to manage. A supposed character flaw of mine. It just seemed we were past these miscommunications. Training at least centers me.” It was predictable. He shouldn’t be unloading his problems to the Amazonian. She’d go tell Wonder Woman that Damian was mentally weak, who would file it back to his father, and then it would be clear just how upset Damian was.

The quip made Donna smile, a quietly amused thing ticking in the corner of her lips. He wasn't exactly wrong - her birth had been unusual to say the least. "Well, that is true." She allowed, thinking fondly back to Themyscira and the sun gilding every edge of every clifftop. "But I'd like to think I can at least try to listen," she countered, sliding one hand into her pocket and gesturing with the other one to indicate she was more than open to whatever he wanted to say.

"There's nothing wrong with wanting to feel centered, especially after a...miscommunication of some sort." Donna said, tipping her head gently. "Was it over anything in particular? Perhaps, we can work out a way for it to happen less frequently if you both intend to stay here," she said, her mind already starting to work with potential solutions.

[lunarwondcr]

@loislanereportingin

Diana had mentioned that perhaps someone would be reaching out over the next few days to discuss some work they’d like her to do so when Donna heard from Ms Lane, it was hardly a surprise. A meeting was set for later in the week and now, Donna found herself making her way to the spot they had agreed upon, the breeze catching her hair pleasantly. 

Eventually, she eased herself into a chair opposite Lois and slanted her a gentle, warm smile.

“Good morning to you.”

[lunarwondcr]

thatstheangle​:

Angelo watched the children warily emerge from behind the car and shuffle their way before calling a waiter over and ordering a couple more slices of cake and some milk; he wasn’t particularly sentimental towards children, but the pair of boys looked a bit gaunt around the eyes. And they seemed to be such staunch devotees to Donna’s altar, after all. 

He wondered if a part of him didn’t just want to see her smile from seeing children fed. Would that make the gesture sweeter or oilier? 

Did he care?

“Hello there,” he greeted in Italian-accented Sokovian when the children reached their table. “Would you like to join us for some food? There’s more cake coming.”

Donna watched Angelo curiously, aware of the children in her peripheral but more intrigued by whatever had possessed him to invite them over. All the same, she wasn't about to draw attention to the kindness in the gesture, lest he rebuke it and take back such an offer. Instead, she turned her gaze to the children and inclined her head in agreement.

"He's right, you know? You're very welcome to stay with us for a little while," she continued, switching to Sokovian just as fluidly.

She hoped they would stay.

[lunarwondcr]

onetruewayne​:

“A negligible difference, in my opinion.” Being ready to fight, fighting, getting in the first blow. It was all a part of his training. Both sets of it. Which was why his disagreement with his father made even less sense. He knew Batman often acted the same way.

“Training isn’t reason enough?” Damian huffed, giving her a wary eye. It was, he supposed, her nature to ask him about his problems. People cared. He knew that. “It has been some time since my father has given me a command or chastised me without explanation. I am… frustrated with it. More so than I was when I was younger.”

Donna made a thoughtful sound low in her throat. "Yes, I imagine it would be." She knew Bruce not nearly as well as her sister did but, she would estimate, well enough to know that the boy's responses fell pretty in line with what he had been taught.

"Training is one thing," she allowed, before that wry smile crept back to her lips. "But I know you know how to train effectively. This is not training - this is working out anger." She allowed the beat of silence to carry between them and then nodded. "He finds it difficult to understand that, from what I've heard. It's an understandable frustration."

[lunarwondcr]

onetruewayne​:

Damian didn’t stop his routine. Something he had learned from Richard who extolled the virtues of intensive stretching, not quite yoga or tai chi, but the routine his brother had put together himself to keep his body ready. It helped keep him centered in his body, even as it rapidly changed through his teen years. He went down into a low squat, testing his balance as he moved one leg under the leg he was using to hold himself up. 

“Tt. I would expect an Amazonian warrior to always be ready for a fight.” Titus dropped his head back onto his paws and closed his eyes, huffing a canine sigh as a sign that he saw no issue with the situation.

“A physical fight at least is less irritating than a verbal one. I suppose Amazons are well trained in the art of argument as well as physical combat.” Damian was somewhat fascinated by the Amazons since he had learned of them as a child. Warrior women in a perfect, powerful society. Nearly his grandfather’s dream society if they had worshipped him instead of their pantheon. Maybe if he’d been trained by them he could actually win an argument with his father instead of it always ending with the two of them storming off and giving each other the silent treatment.

Donna chuckled, letting her spine relax into a gently slouched position, one hand sliding into her pocket as she shook her head gently. "Being ready for one and instigating one are very different things," she countered lightly.

And then she inclined her head, amusement sparking in her eyes at the accusation. "Well, quite so. We try our best to be prepared for any situation at hand," she said, canting her head. There was a weight on the boy's shoulders but she couldn't quite discern what was the problem. Most likely, his father. It seemed to be a fraught, contentious relationship. "Is there a reason you are out here punishing thin air?" Donna asked curiously.

[lunarwondcr]

ebraddock​:

“Ah, me neither. Though there are few people that I’ve met before here.” Only a few of the X-Men had come here to actually get into the fray of things; others were somewhere else doing their own thing to keep the peace. Betsy couldn’t see herself sitting back and doing nothing while others tried to put pieces back together. “And I’d like it to stay that way. Though the presence of the ISA is a given that we all can’t be liked by everyone.” Which kind of defeated the point as to why they were all here, but that couldn’t be helped. “To be honest, I’m surprised that there aren’t more of us involved with the UN.”

"As have I - old members of old teams and friends of friends. It's nice to see them reunite, even if the circumstances are less than ideal," Donna said quietly, gaze fixed out to the sky. The ISA were a clear and present threat and yet, she couldn't quite shake that they were slacking.

"It would certainly be an interesting move. Many of those here are not well suited to diplomacy and those who are think less favourably about the UN these days," Donna said softly. It was a good point though, and one she may consider bringing up to Diana.