To hold it, after having revered its power ever since her mother first told tales of it… Diana blinks, as if waking from a dream. The sword fits perfectly in her hand, almost as if it is an extension of her own arm, as if it was made for her. Diana admires it a moment, then wraps a hand around the handle and hefts. The hilt is shaped to look like twin serpents.
The sword shines in the moonlight leaking in from the window, intricate runes etched into the blade. Diana drops down from an overlook, landing gracefully, and steps up the mantle. She grabs both, fastening the Lasso to her belt and the shield to her arm, and then sets off for the sword that will end this all. The Lasso hangs inside its ceremonial display, a shield next to it. Shadows wrapping around her, Diana strides into the silent armory. She repeats the action, again and again, until finally her fingers wrap around the window’s ledge, and she hauls herself inside. Not enough to fit her hand, but…Diana hits it again, and pulls herself up. Diana pounds a fist against the stone, frustrated, and - it gives way. Tentatively, she reaches, searching for a grip to hoist herself up. Looking up, Diana’s grin droops when she sees nothing but sheer stone. She’s still a good 30 feet below the window, though, so maybe ‘victory’ is premature. Diana twists, aiming for a spur that juts out, and catches it in her grasp. And then she’s hurtling towards the building. For a moment she’s suspended in air, soaring. It’s utterly foolhardy, but… She takes a deep breath, and runs, taking a flying leap off of the hilltop. Her eyes find a window, high up in the tower, big enough for her to fit through. The single entrance is guarded, so she circles around, hiking atop the opposing hill, to get a better view. Diana waits for the cover of darkness, then sneaks into the armory, where the Gods’ gifts are held.
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