'Experience,' Altair thought, idly peering out at the carriage Silia had procured for his arrival. It was an odd thing. Despite it being his first time within Themyscira, Altair had found himself reminiscent. Familiar trees, landmarks, and faces swelled across his mind like a maelstrom of the senses.
He felt happy, taken back by the feeling of home. It made him realize how little he truly understood of his Pale Knights. These were not his feelings, his nostalgia; they belonged to Alyssa. The memories, the experiences, the pleasure, the sorrow he'd taken them all into him, claiming her reality through death.
Just then, a faint disturbance drew him away as Tasha guided his hand to her lap. He watched, neither speaking nor rejecting her touch.
"In Mythos, it's believed that one could read the fait of Gods and Mortals alike by reading the palm,' she said. "Would you like me to read yours?"
