*Dianaclaimer: Sara, Irons and Ian (and anyone else from Witchblade) are
not mine!! But
Drusilla and Diana *are*, so if you steal them, I will eat you.
*Notes: Will eventually be Ian/Sara, so keep your pants on! Set in sort of Season Three
where everyone is alive (except Danny), and Sara knows how Ian was made and how Irons
keeps himself young. Diana Lux Lucis can be roughly translated from Latin to Diana Light
Sara meandered in to the office. "Irons? We need to talk!" Every time she touched
someone, the Witchblade started to glow. It was getting extremely hard to explain. Since
it was evident Irons wasn't here, so she decided to have a look around.
Her attention was drawn immediately to a plain manila folder sitting forlornly on
the edge of the desk. She drew it over to her and flipped open the cover. At her first touch
on the pages, Sara knew Irons was in his study, standing in front of the fireplace, talking
to Ian. She glanced down at the pages then. A strange picture she had come to know as
the symbol for the disbanded Black Dragons stared up at her from the crisp white pages,
along with the cryptic message- Diana Lux Lucis.
` *************************************
Sara burst into the fire-lit room. "What is Diana Lux Lucis," she demanded.
Irons turned away from the fire, the light sparkling through his glass of white wine.
Ian stood behind him, eyes downcast and hands clasped before him-his usual stance. "Ian,"
Irons said impassively, "I thought I told you to put that file away."
"I am sorry, sir. I was distracted," Ian said softly.
Irons rang a bell and a young boy hurried in. The millionaire whispered something
in the servant's ear and the boy hustled out again. Moments later, a young woman
sauntered in. "That," Irons murmured, "is Diana Lux Lucis." The woman was younger
than Sara, probably 25 or so. Her dark hair was tied black and her dark, nearly black eyes
were locked on Irons' face, a direct contrast to the way Ian faced the same man. Though,
like Ian, she wore all black, complete with black trench coat.
"You called for me?" Unlike Ian again, she used no honorary in addressing Irons.
Irons scowled ever so slightly. "Diana, Sara wished to meet you." The
woman's attention focused on Sara now. She nodded, a small half-smile curling her full
lips. "Diana is my second attempt to create a weapon like Ian." Sara's eyes flicked
from Ian to Irons and then back again to Ian. His face was blank and expressionless as
always. "She is my spy. She goes where I can not. She is also," now his gaze rested on his
creation with pride, "the youngest female to have completed the Black Dragon training.
Like Ian, she is also made from genetic material from one of your predecessors, Sara."
"Then is she Ian's," Her brow furrowed with a frown as she groped for the right
word, "sister?
"No," the woman interrupted, though Irons glared at her for her audacity. "I was
not made from Emily Bronte."
"You will pleased to know, Sara," Irons drawled, ignoring Diana, "that the grave of
one of the earliest wielders has been found. The tomb of Cleopatra was found some time
ago. Diana was created from her genes."
"She doesn't look Egyptian," Sara remarked.
Irons chuckled disdainfully. "Cleopatra was a Ptolemy. She was Macedonian
Greek."
"If I'm around, surely there are others descended from Cleopatra. Why didn't you
use genes from one of them? Surely that would have been just as effective." Sara eyed Diana
with uncertainty. She'd learned to cope with how Ian was made, but to deal with another
like him... Sara think she could take it.
"He did to impress Drusilla," Diana said suddenly, pointed to the library loft.
Irons glared and raised a fist to strike her. "Irons!" A sharp female voice called from
the stairs. A tall woman stood in a wine-colored silk dress on the top step. Long black
curls spiraled over her shoulder and her brilliant blue eyes riveted Irons in place.
Drusilla descended in silence and moved to stand between Irons and his
would-be-victim. "By all rights," the strange woman said to Sara, ignoring the irate man
behind her, "Diana should be my aunt. Cleopatra was my grandmother."
Sara choked. "But that would make you nearly 2000 years old!"
Drusilla laughed sadly. "I keep myself alive the way Kenneth does. The blood of
the women who wield the blade and brief contact with the Witchblade has sustained me
through the centuries." Her eyes flicked to the bracelet on Sara's wrist. "My mother
thought I would be the next to wield it."
Sara extended her hand, feeling slightly awkward compared to this ancient woman with the stones to take on Irons. "Sara Pezzini," she said. Drusilla grinned and took the proffered hand. When the two women clasped hands, the Witchblade began to glow warmly, as though welcoming Drusilla. Sara looked down at the bracelet in shock. "I think it likes you."
Drusilla and Diana *are*, so if you steal them, I will eat you.
*Notes: Will eventually be Ian/Sara, so keep your pants on! Set in sort of Season Three
where everyone is alive (except Danny), and Sara knows how Ian was made and how Irons
keeps himself young. Diana Lux Lucis can be roughly translated from Latin to Diana Light
Sara meandered in to the office. "Irons? We need to talk!" Every time she touched
someone, the Witchblade started to glow. It was getting extremely hard to explain. Since
it was evident Irons wasn't here, so she decided to have a look around.
Her attention was drawn immediately to a plain manila folder sitting forlornly on
the edge of the desk. She drew it over to her and flipped open the cover. At her first touch
on the pages, Sara knew Irons was in his study, standing in front of the fireplace, talking
to Ian. She glanced down at the pages then. A strange picture she had come to know as
the symbol for the disbanded Black Dragons stared up at her from the crisp white pages,
along with the cryptic message- Diana Lux Lucis.
` *************************************
Sara burst into the fire-lit room. "What is Diana Lux Lucis," she demanded.
Irons turned away from the fire, the light sparkling through his glass of white wine.
Ian stood behind him, eyes downcast and hands clasped before him-his usual stance. "Ian,"
Irons said impassively, "I thought I told you to put that file away."
"I am sorry, sir. I was distracted," Ian said softly.
Irons rang a bell and a young boy hurried in. The millionaire whispered something
in the servant's ear and the boy hustled out again. Moments later, a young woman
sauntered in. "That," Irons murmured, "is Diana Lux Lucis." The woman was younger
than Sara, probably 25 or so. Her dark hair was tied black and her dark, nearly black eyes
were locked on Irons' face, a direct contrast to the way Ian faced the same man. Though,
like Ian, she wore all black, complete with black trench coat.
"You called for me?" Unlike Ian again, she used no honorary in addressing Irons.
Irons scowled ever so slightly. "Diana, Sara wished to meet you." The
woman's attention focused on Sara now. She nodded, a small half-smile curling her full
lips. "Diana is my second attempt to create a weapon like Ian." Sara's eyes flicked
from Ian to Irons and then back again to Ian. His face was blank and expressionless as
always. "She is my spy. She goes where I can not. She is also," now his gaze rested on his
creation with pride, "the youngest female to have completed the Black Dragon training.
Like Ian, she is also made from genetic material from one of your predecessors, Sara."
"Then is she Ian's," Her brow furrowed with a frown as she groped for the right
word, "sister?
"No," the woman interrupted, though Irons glared at her for her audacity. "I was
not made from Emily Bronte."
"You will pleased to know, Sara," Irons drawled, ignoring Diana, "that the grave of
one of the earliest wielders has been found. The tomb of Cleopatra was found some time
ago. Diana was created from her genes."
"She doesn't look Egyptian," Sara remarked.
Irons chuckled disdainfully. "Cleopatra was a Ptolemy. She was Macedonian
Greek."
"If I'm around, surely there are others descended from Cleopatra. Why didn't you
use genes from one of them? Surely that would have been just as effective." Sara eyed Diana
with uncertainty. She'd learned to cope with how Ian was made, but to deal with another
like him... Sara think she could take it.
"He did to impress Drusilla," Diana said suddenly, pointed to the library loft.
Irons glared and raised a fist to strike her. "Irons!" A sharp female voice called from
the stairs. A tall woman stood in a wine-colored silk dress on the top step. Long black
curls spiraled over her shoulder and her brilliant blue eyes riveted Irons in place.
Drusilla descended in silence and moved to stand between Irons and his
would-be-victim. "By all rights," the strange woman said to Sara, ignoring the irate man
behind her, "Diana should be my aunt. Cleopatra was my grandmother."
Sara choked. "But that would make you nearly 2000 years old!"
Drusilla laughed sadly. "I keep myself alive the way Kenneth does. The blood of
the women who wield the blade and brief contact with the Witchblade has sustained me
through the centuries." Her eyes flicked to the bracelet on Sara's wrist. "My mother
thought I would be the next to wield it."
Sara extended her hand, feeling slightly awkward compared to this ancient woman with the stones to take on Irons. "Sara Pezzini," she said. Drusilla grinned and took the proffered hand. When the two women clasped hands, the Witchblade began to glow warmly, as though welcoming Drusilla. Sara looked down at the bracelet in shock. "I think it likes you."