( Diana can't chase her fondness for antiques. antique in and of itself is such a baffling term. something valued, collected, for its significance in time. how values in societies change, as time keeps pressing forward. her fingers run the plaque of a weathered bronze piece she's admiring from the eighteenth century. it looks to be a fawn of some manner, and it is... charming, if worn by its age.
she shifts from that piece to a grandfather clock, one that already has an admirer. she offers a hint of a smile, her lips reddened to match her growing understanding of what was fashionable in this time. the ideas of modern women were quite different to those in Themyscira, though perhaps not always in ways she dislikes.
lipstick, for example, Diana has no shame in enjoying. ) Lovely, is it not? ( she inquires, dark eyes skating the figure of the woman only once, though noticeably all the same. )
[Phryne has never been one quite so much for trinkets as for grandiosity. The dramatic, the sweeping; there's a reason her hats tend to have such wide brims and well-kept feathers, the better to make a statement as she enters and leaves. She's known for such things when it comes to fashion, but when it comes to things like home decor--]
[Well. People don't consider that quite as much, she's noticed. The placement of an imposing grandfather clock in the front hall is not, perhaps, considered as feminine as the arrangement of flowers in a vase on a tablecloth. But she likes it. A clock like this makes a statement. Sweeps without moving at all.]
[She's not alone, which is just as well. She prefers not to be. But in this case, she's especially curious. Her companion moves with a grace and confidence that most women are trained not to, a sense of self that's usually ground out.]
Very much so. [A beat, a breath, but barely.] Looking for a souvenir? [She can tell when someone's not from here; it's hard not to stand out in a place like Melbourne if you don't fit a very particular mold.]
i bet the skirts they are wearing make for great twirling
Perhaps, ( Diana laughs, because if she's honest she is fond of a few bits and pieces of her travels. she likes to have a history of where she's been, it helps her think about where she'd like to go next. she reaches out to run her fingers along the carved lines, expression thoughtful. ) I imagine this one would be hard to take with me, though.
( despite its sturdy size, clocks could be quite fragile. Diana would hate to let her fondness for the piece ruin it, when it could find a happier home where it already was. she moved around too much for such a sturdy piece, no matter how lovely it was. she seems a little passingly sad, at the realization.
she shakes it off, though, sparing a smile for her company. it's true; she doesn't seem as if she belongs, she rarely does. even when she takes the time to wear the fittings of each new place she visits. her accent gives her away, even when she knows the language (and she almost always does). she's foreign and she'll be foreign no matter where she goes, won't she? might as well own it. ) I don't mind. I like to admire.
Oh, well. It depends how you're traveling. But it isn't the safest bet, that's certain.
[There's a gleam in her eyes as she says it. Why take the safe bet? is what that gleam says, why bother, when there is so much more fun to be had in danger?]
[It's a very human attitude. But then, Phryne is the quintessence of willful, whimsical humanity. Her smile isn't spared, but thrown out with abandon and pleasure, even (especially) for beautiful strangers from places even she doesn't yet know.]
You like to admire, and you like to travel. That makes you a tourist, and . . . [She makes a show of examining Diana carefully, in not-quite-polite curiosity.] A scholar? An explorer? Both require some bravery, as well as some forward planning--the second reason being why I'd do terribly at either.
( it would depend, wouldn't it? Diana pauses, things left unsaid, before she smiles instead. a girl does benefit from a bit of mystery, after all, and she finds that the less she gives, the better it tends to be. so often she inspires too many questions, and she's not the naive girl she used to be anymore. she can't give too much, she knows the consequence of it. so instead, she keeps to her mystery.
she doesn't mind the casual perusal, though — it's not wrong she's a tourist, she's been a tourist to every place she's been since she left the safe shores of Themyscira. a scholar and explorer... well, depending on the definition. such practices were apparently not welcome fields for women, though so far Diana had not let that slow down her curiosity for the world of man. )
I would call myself a student. There is much in the world I do not know, and I am trying to learn all I can. ( if that suited the definition of scholar, she'd take it. she lifts a dark brow at her company before adding, ) You notice much in very little. That is the act of the better scholars, in my opinion, forethought or not. ( a pause, then a smile. ) Diana.
Oh, clever answer. Aren't we all students? --Diana.
[She, for herself, is always trying to learn. Perhaps she's been cocky in the past, perhaps she's cocky even now, but she's learned the benefit of an open mind. Life is full of the strange and mysterious.]
[She holds her white-gloved hand out to shake. Women don't shake, in these times. But Phryne shakes.]
Phryne Fisher. Do you know the story? [Of the name, she means.]
( Diana doesn't mind a handshake. it's hardly the first thing she's done that women aren't meant to. a handshake seems so perfectly harmless, too, a method of greeting. why should men be the only one allowed to greet each other in a particular way? when she accepts Phryne's hand, the one free is gloveless. seems she might have taken it off in her wanderings, she likes to run a finger along the pieces she's admiring on occasion. a glove simply won't tell her the same that her fingertip will.
does she know the story of a Phryne Fisher? it does seem familiar, from a paper article or two, perhaps, though exactly how Diana can't say. she frowns in thought, but it only lasts for a breath of a moment before she shakes her head, familiarity or no. )
I suspect I'd like it better from the lady herself.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
wildly aus
she shifts from that piece to a grandfather clock, one that already has an admirer. she offers a hint of a smile, her lips reddened to match her growing understanding of what was fashionable in this time. the ideas of modern women were quite different to those in Themyscira, though perhaps not always in ways she dislikes.
lipstick, for example, Diana has no shame in enjoying. ) Lovely, is it not? ( she inquires, dark eyes skating the figure of the woman only once, though noticeably all the same. )
twirls in this au
[Well. People don't consider that quite as much, she's noticed. The placement of an imposing grandfather clock in the front hall is not, perhaps, considered as feminine as the arrangement of flowers in a vase on a tablecloth. But she likes it. A clock like this makes a statement. Sweeps without moving at all.]
[She's not alone, which is just as well. She prefers not to be. But in this case, she's especially curious. Her companion moves with a grace and confidence that most women are trained not to, a sense of self that's usually ground out.]
Very much so. [A beat, a breath, but barely.] Looking for a souvenir? [She can tell when someone's not from here; it's hard not to stand out in a place like Melbourne if you don't fit a very particular mold.]
i bet the skirts they are wearing make for great twirling
( despite its sturdy size, clocks could be quite fragile. Diana would hate to let her fondness for the piece ruin it, when it could find a happier home where it already was. she moved around too much for such a sturdy piece, no matter how lovely it was. she seems a little passingly sad, at the realization.
she shakes it off, though, sparing a smile for her company. it's true; she doesn't seem as if she belongs, she rarely does. even when she takes the time to wear the fittings of each new place she visits. her accent gives her away, even when she knows the language (and she almost always does). she's foreign and she'll be foreign no matter where she goes, won't she? might as well own it. ) I don't mind. I like to admire.
you're damn right they are!!
[There's a gleam in her eyes as she says it. Why take the safe bet? is what that gleam says, why bother, when there is so much more fun to be had in danger?]
[It's a very human attitude. But then, Phryne is the quintessence of willful, whimsical humanity. Her smile isn't spared, but thrown out with abandon and pleasure, even (especially) for beautiful strangers from places even she doesn't yet know.]
You like to admire, and you like to travel. That makes you a tourist, and . . . [She makes a show of examining Diana carefully, in not-quite-polite curiosity.] A scholar? An explorer? Both require some bravery, as well as some forward planning--the second reason being why I'd do terribly at either.
no subject
she doesn't mind the casual perusal, though — it's not wrong she's a tourist, she's been a tourist to every place she's been since she left the safe shores of Themyscira. a scholar and explorer... well, depending on the definition. such practices were apparently not welcome fields for women, though so far Diana had not let that slow down her curiosity for the world of man. )
I would call myself a student. There is much in the world I do not know, and I am trying to learn all I can. ( if that suited the definition of scholar, she'd take it. she lifts a dark brow at her company before adding, ) You notice much in very little. That is the act of the better scholars, in my opinion, forethought or not. ( a pause, then a smile. ) Diana.
no subject
[She, for herself, is always trying to learn. Perhaps she's been cocky in the past, perhaps she's cocky even now, but she's learned the benefit of an open mind. Life is full of the strange and mysterious.]
[She holds her white-gloved hand out to shake. Women don't shake, in these times. But Phryne shakes.]
Phryne Fisher. Do you know the story? [Of the name, she means.]
no subject
does she know the story of a Phryne Fisher? it does seem familiar, from a paper article or two, perhaps, though exactly how Diana can't say. she frowns in thought, but it only lasts for a breath of a moment before she shakes her head, familiarity or no. )
I suspect I'd like it better from the lady herself.