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[amazones]

Rain starts to fall heavily halfway through the early morning, even before the sun climbs up the sky.

It's a small village she's in right now, and the people are few, but what they fight for is no less important. Their crops, their cattle, their families and homes, those are things worth keeping, and Diana has taken part in many a great war before, but this is just as meaningful in her eye.

She should like for peaceful resolutions, but peace isn't always an option. Sometimes words have to give way to shield and sword, and that is why she's sitting on a horse right now, along with a few hundred armed warriors as well, waiting in heavy silence as they look on to the contour of the plains in the distance. Raindrops fall heavy on her face, roll down her cheeks, weigh down her hair, but she ignores that, her eyes never leaving the horizon as she waits.

She waits, and finally she sees them, the large group of bandits fast approaching them. They want the village, she knows, the prime position near the sea, and they don't care that they would be killing hundreds to manage that. That's the way of the world, and she's not naïve; the nature of Men hardly surprises her anymore.

A thunder cracks in the sky, but she barely blinks, drawing out her sword and waiting. A few of the people nearer to her seem a little more unsettled as a second lightning draws a line down the sky and in the distance reaches the ground itself, but she figures it's only fear. It's only normal. But it's also something they'll have to work past right now, or any hope they may have will be lost.

Their enemy approaches, and she lifts her sword in the air, yells out a battle cry, another until they are all yelling alongside her, then together, they urge their horses into a gallop and charge forward, trampling whatever fear lingers and putting their hearts and minds to the edge of their swords.

[shockput]

The days are gone when the Old Norsemen proclaimed him and Loki gods, claimed Valhalla for their warriors and sailed forth to the seas. Heimdall keeps vigil, but the life of mortals is but the blink of an eye to an Aesir. Their bones litter the earth, their stories fade.

Fondness grows anew after New Mexico, rooted firm after New York. In nine hundred years the world has changed so quickly and so much that he stands by Heimdall, asking that he describe what has become of those who once called upon the might of Asgard. There is potential, and soon Midgard will come to know the higher forms of war that are commonplace in the cosmos, and see that it is not merely Loki who wields mischief.

Sometimes, Heimdall says they call to their old gods. Thor has no desire to claim the obeisance of mortals without fully earning it — as everything now that lives must be earned. They respect him because he protects them, and when they call out —

There is a flash of bright, blinding light. The ground shakes on his landing. The invaders stop, and the rain beats down harder on them, only them. The sky over the villagers and the warriors they have with them is clear.

'I have come,' he says, calmly, 'to accept your surrender. Leave now and no harm will come to you. Fight, and you will most assuredly die.'

[amazones]

Diana's horse is forced into a sudden halt at the strange appearance, lifting on his hind legs at the surprise, though she's skilled enough that she manages not to fall off of it. Others near her aren't so lucky, but no one seems to be harmed, and she looks around briefly to make sure they're all alright before her attention turns back to the man facing away from them.

Suddenly there's no rain, not for them in any case. She looks up at the clear sky above, utterly speechless. She's seen power before, of course, and it's not disbelief that settles in her head. Just the shock of the situation rendering her still.

So she waits, instead. Her grip on her sword is tight, but she would rather not use it at all. She too had tried for words with these people, but they would not listen; but now, they recognize the God, and they know to be afraid. Some, she notes, start to pull back, but she sees a few still that may just be stupid enough to still charge forward out of stubbornness and spite. She's ready to fight them if she has to, but she hopes they will take the others' lead and retreat too.

[shockput]

They know to be afraid. Fear never conquers greed, or thirst, and soon the air rings with the thunder of battle. Thor is in the midst of it — the rain pounds on them. Mortals. Petty, and savage, though he knows better now, this is not the best of them.

Thunder dies down, the clouds pass, and they are picking through the field looking for survivors. Blood clogs the air, the tang of it strong in his nostrils, faint splatters on the armour. Nothing on the cape, still richly red, moving across.

'Hail, warrior,' he says to her, with a nod. 'Though they may return, it is our victory this day.'

[amazones]

Petty and savage indeed, yet Diana wouldn't have put it past some of them to be just mad enough to think that they could take on the power that's just been presented to them. Even Diana is in awe, though it is a brief thing, and by the time the men leave and they're left on their own, she looks as calm and composed as ever.

The people around her roar victoriously at Thor's words, and Diana herself smiles, a mix of accomplishment that isn't truly her own, and relief at seeing this battle reach an end. She steps forward, sheathing her sword, her shield kept tight to her side, almost like it's a part of her arm.

"Only because of you," she says, not a shred of ill will that he interfered. She's glad for it, even, for the blood that they did not need to spill. "And for that, you have my thanks. I am Diana of Themyscira."

She watches him quietly then, curious to see if he recognizes the name.