Diana herself is full of love, eager to give it to all she meets. But it is not the same kind of love, perhaps, that mortals know; Amazons are creatures of love, made to love, without condition. Diana is no different, and tries to give her love freely to all she meets, regardless of whether or not they deserve it.
Doing so had become more difficult after the War, but this past year has made her feel like perhaps it doesn't have to be. And as she tumbles over that peak with Altaïr, crying out wordlessly as her deepest muscles spasm and pleasure rakes down her spine, she knows that this, too, is another kind of love, one that perhaps she doesn't yet have a name for, but isn't in a rush to pin down. All she knows is it feels right, and as she starts to come back to herself, breaths short but easing, she looks at the man below her and smiles.
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Doing so had become more difficult after the War, but this past year has made her feel like perhaps it doesn't have to be. And as she tumbles over that peak with Altaïr, crying out wordlessly as her deepest muscles spasm and pleasure rakes down her spine, she knows that this, too, is another kind of love, one that perhaps she doesn't yet have a name for, but isn't in a rush to pin down. All she knows is it feels right, and as she starts to come back to herself, breaths short but easing, she looks at the man below her and smiles.