[She wonders what he's thinking--but Diana has had a long time to learn patience, and so she waits, eyes drifting once more back to the stained glass until he speaks again. That he's come back at her with a question of his own doesn't surprise her--the question itself does, though.
Diana's brows raise just so, and she crosses her arms loosely. She could tell him that she's read much of what was in it, as copies of some of the more ancient texts were housed in the library on Themyscira, that if her mother would only have listened to her, they could have brought that knowledge back to men. But she isn't quite to that level of "might as well" yet, so she decides to go what any regular person might say.]
That it was the greatest repository of knowledge mankind ever had, and they let it burn.
[There's a definite note of sadness (and a more subtle one of bitterness) in her voice. Perhaps if she'd been there, if her people had been there, that wouldn't have happened. But Diana has never let herself think on "what ifs" for too long.]
no subject
Diana's brows raise just so, and she crosses her arms loosely. She could tell him that she's read much of what was in it, as copies of some of the more ancient texts were housed in the library on Themyscira, that if her mother would only have listened to her, they could have brought that knowledge back to men. But she isn't quite to that level of "might as well" yet, so she decides to go what any regular person might say.]
That it was the greatest repository of knowledge mankind ever had, and they let it burn.
[There's a definite note of sadness (and a more subtle one of bitterness) in her voice. Perhaps if she'd been there, if her people had been there, that wouldn't have happened. But Diana has never let herself think on "what ifs" for too long.]