The Meanings of Lost

Chapter 23

Ambrosine:

Ghosts? I must be seeing ghosts now. I know what happened, but that doesn't change the fact that Mother was there. I was protecting her, and I failed. And now my angel saviour sits by my side in the hospital, only in mortal form. 

My mother was there.

~~~~~

Diana:

Steve wonders at my house, flipping light switches on and off. He fiddled with some buttons, casually asking me to explain how such a thing worked and why. It's hard not to think that Ambrosine would have been good at this, oddly even better than me. She had an understanding of the world around her from her readings that was sometimes unparallel to even mine, though I had lived through much she has not.

I tell him there are quite a few laces he could sleep; Ambrosine's old room now lays empty, and many of the couches turn into beds or are just plain comfortable for sleeping on. 

He draws me into his arms and rests his head on my shoulder. "It's going to be alright." He says. 

I soon find myself walking groggily up the stairs to my room. I undress and slip between the cover and pull a pillow close. Out of everything I do, it's caring for people that drain me the most. I could run miles and miles around Themyscira and wake up the next morning with fewer pains than what I'm currently enduring. 

I hear Steve moving around below. He'd chosen Ambrosine's old room, though I hadn't told him it belonged to her. We'd moved the clothes Bruce had gotten him into the dressers and closet for now. 

I roll onto my back at stare up at the ceiling. I miss the stars. Taking a deep breath, the air seems heavy with cleaning products and other unnatural scents made to smell like nonexisting flowers. And warm. The warmth adds a weight to the air that could never have been achieved with torches. If I close my eyes, the stars aren't there. Like many things, they have faded with time.

"Diana, get up." I'm shaken awake before the sun even rises. Familiar trumpets blare in the distance, announcing a new arrival to the island, a new woman who died honouring the goddesses in battle and earned herself a place on Themyscira. Ithippe stands before me, her mane of fiery hair untamed and brushing the ground. Her arms rest on her hips and her lips are parted in a half-pout at my sleepy state.

She walks over to my bedside. "Up, Pixis," she says, using a rather unkind nickname giving to me behind my mother's back. Pixis is a clay pot and some Amazons find it a rather fitting mane for a girl made of clay and brought to life by Zeus. She pulls the sheets off and the cold air engulfs me.

"Gods, what's the temperature?"

"Up, Pixis." She repeats blandly before leaving. I scowl at her. Sometimes, we're best friends, others, especially when my mom's involved, we're complete strangers. Being seen with me isn't always the best way to survive being an Amazon.

I stagger about my room strapping on some sandals and slipping a dress. I plait my hair before exiting the chamber and following the sounds of the horns to the beach. 

There must be something wrong because even though I'm late nothing has happened yet. I sneak in beside my mother and she doesn't even glare at my tardiness. Instead, she and the rest of the Amazons are staring at the new arrival. 

She's barely here. Her curly brown hair and pale skin are nearly transparent against the white sand. Unlike the others who appear on this beach, her wounds bleed freely yet they do not stain the sand. She doesn't seem to see us.

Her garments are odd too. They're familiar to me in another life, enough so that I know they are out of this century. She fades in and out before disappearing altogether, leaving us staring at the image of a child in another world reflected in a puddle that had formed beneath her. 

The morning light shines into my room second before the alarm clock makes itself known with its infernal blaring. I wack it, winching as shards of the plastic shoot into my hand. I need a better, a stronger, alarm clock. 

I go to my bathroom and take a quick shower, then slip back into my pyjamas. I have no plans on working for days. As I wind my hair up around my head, my stomach growls. How many premade pancakes do I have left over?

I walk down the stairs, the sounds of paradise birds in my ear. I enter the kitchen-

"Diana!" I cross the room in one stride and pin the speaker to the wall. "Diana, it's me."

"Steve?' I let him go. "You startled me."

"What are you wearing?" He asks, his eyes measuring me. I'm in summer pyjamas, I realize. They must be a sight to him. In many ways he still the overly proper man I met all those years ago.

"It's actually a very common clothe length in the summer," I tell him. "Some people even wear less." His face twists in repulsion.

"That's well..." He stutters, his eyes burning my skin. "Sorry I can't help thinking about what type of lewd store you would have had to buy those at when we met." I laugh, picturing it myself. 

"I'll change if you want," I say. "I'm actually quite cold, not that I think of it. I was dreaming that I back on Themyscira and forgot winter existed." This time he chuckled. I smile. "It's nice, having you around."

He nods. "You too." He tilts his head ever so slightly forwards. His arms move from his sides to loosely around my hips, and I mimic him, staring deep into his strange eyes and somehow seeing him none the less. 

He presses his lips to mine at first, then runs his tongue against my teeth, coaxing my mouth open. I slip my hands around his neck pulling myself higher as a moan escapes me. He holds me close to him and I feel the warmth of skin radiating off and warming me. 

I nuzzle his neck as he tries to turn me against the wall. We wrestle and giggle. Suddenly, he pulls me onto the couch that we were ever inching closer too. 

"Are you okay with this Diana?" He asks.

"Yes," I say, pulling him down onto me and running my hands over his chest. "Yes, I am."

~~~~~

Hi guys, so I've been fighting writer's block on this project, but I think it's finally over! Please continue to vote and comment, it means the world.
~Beneath_the_Willows