Diana had left a fairly modern-day New York City, circa 2008 or so. The monsters she was used to keeping an eye out for were rarely of the supernatural bent, and tended more toward humanity gone so far off the rails that it left Diana breathless. There was the occasional god-touched artifact (or person that had fiddled with such), but overall, Diana came from a fairly tame world in comparison to some others out there. It was a comparison that was easy to grasp as Ciri not only told her the profession of a Witcher, but showed her the silver sword her father had given her.
She had been given weapons in her youth, too, and weaponry was not given to those who did not need it. She nodded, but in that nod was approval and respect, both things Ciri had earned well before Diana had ever met her. “It is a beautiful blade, and true,” she said with a smile, and in truth, she would know. Diana had spent her childhood assuming that the sword the Amazons held so proudly was the Godkiller, though that had not been the case. It had still been an exemplary blade, forged by Hephaestus himself, as had her armor.
“I am pleased to know some few things may return to me. My Aunt Antiope’s headpiece is particularly important to me, and I feel naked without it.” Her bracelets, as well, but Diana did not precisely need those. She did not need the headpiece, either, but she had always liked to keep it close. Ever since the day Antiope had died in her arms, and given it to her. “Of course, I suppose I may also return to them.” Diana shrugged, and looked to Ciri again. “If you had the opportunity to leave, would you?”
Diana wondered what peace could be found here, or if those that had been here for long lengths of time had merely entered into an uncomfortable truce with the entities that ran this hotel. She was so new here that getting a bead on any kind of social patterns had been difficult so far, but that did not stop her efforts in trying.