her patrons come in all kinds of forms that she has been able to recognize over the years. the one that has never been seen until now, perched outside of her window, is a screech owl. the moment penny's eyes land on it, her veins flood with ice cold, and the urge to get back to bed is powerful, to crawl and hide from it. all she had done was get up, try and get coffee for the morning, and all of her knows that this isn't going to end simply. not when the owl's eyes burn with that familiar bloody red, the evidence that it was god touched.

diana isn't someone who runs, though. she's the one who keeps them rooted to the spot, the one who looks at the owl's burning red eyes and knows that running won't fix this. that if they do run, it will make things worse. that was the genesis of how many myths, the destruction of how many men, how many kingdoms? that running from your destiny would only make it worse, make it end in tragedy. how many stories had her mother told her, how many times had she seen it herself?

there are many that flash through her head and diana does not want this to end in tragedy.

her hand reaches for the golden prefect, moving penny's mouth to say, "Ζευσ Χθονιος." it is a recognition of who he is, and the owl shifts, expectantly. she gets up from the bed, reaches out to open the door to the patio.

the instant her hands meet the handle, she knows that it will not open to the dawn.

her fingers trip the handle, twists anyway, and then the door swings open. it yawns open not to the dawn, as she knew, but to the dark steps of the underworld itself, the owl no more. the steps are carved out of the earth itself, and diana can smell not just death but the gold, the horde of the earth itself that belongs to hades and to persephone.

diana can feel a current of fear from penny, palpable with the idea of having to do this, to venture down there. diana grips the prefect, and hopes that penny can feel her gripping her hand. "hold fast, sister. i have been here before, and i will not leave you here, alone."

she takes a step forward, can feel the tug against her heel, to make her trip. diana steadies herself, and there's a little bit of amusement in her that she was going to be going into the underworld not dressed as a warrior — instead, she would be in a pair of robes and slippers in the shape of bunnies.

penny, at least, laughs with her as they both make their way down into the freezing darkness together. the prefect is secure in their hand as they make their way in; the underworld has always shifted over the years, has always had it's own twist and turns. the way it is now, it is reminiscent of when diana had blinded herself, and had come to ask for help. the allure to fall into memories, to look at the shades is still there. the more she walks, the colder it gets, the steeper it is.

her eyes work now. the lasso pulses beneath her fingers, and she allows it to help her through the almost never ending darkness. hades had told her to come, and she would rise to his summons, whether she wanted to go or not.

hades didn't break bargains, and neither did she.