LIGHTNOVELONLINE Diana’s Guilt: A Lapse in Judgement
Nightmares riddled Diana's dreams, cursed images and events playing out in the recesses of her mind as she subconsciously grappled with some of her greatest fears. She was alone, cold in the face of the flames surrounding her, haunted by the smoldering corpses of the people of the friends she made back home. It was one of the many scenes she had envisioned happening on Earth in the moments of its destruction, though she knew the truth of the matter would forever escape her. This time, she was introduced to new sensations. The smell of blood was now interspersed with the choking aroma of burning fat and rotting meat, a taste she dared not describe festering in her mouth. A ringing in her ears tormented her, banishing thoughts from her mind the moment they appeared, while her knees and legs seemed to sink endlessly into a glue-like mud.
And yet that was hardly the worst of it. It didn't even come close.
She could not tear her eyes from it, the corpse suspended from a crucifix of mangled steel. It was disemboweled, intestines dangling from the gaping hole in its stomach, the skin along its arms and legs had been flayed, secured to their place on the unholy structure by braids of barbed wire. The skull, visible due to being scalped, was shattered, and an eye was missing from its socket. In its place, maggots. It was mutilated beyond recognition, but Diana knew it was Donovan. Who else could it be?
Diana could not even bring herself to scream at the sight of Donovan's body, the knowledge of its existence drained her of any energy she could have possibly mustered. It was over, over. Diana was now truly alone. Without Donovan, there was nothing left. She had nobody to protect her, nobody to motivate her, nobody to give her purpose. He hadn't given her a child to carry on the mission, or a reason to carry on without him.
She could feel her hands grasp her own neck, the motion beyond her control, and squeeze. She could hear thoughts that were not her own, or rather, thoughts she was not responsible for. They were telling her to choke herself into unconsciousness, and let the mud handle the rest. As she grasped her hands tighter and tighter, the bite of her trachea collapsing under the pressure of her thumbs broke through the mind numbing Tinnitus, activating the last vestiges of self-preservation she had. Panic gripped her as she tried harder and harder to breathe, but the grip of her hands was uncharacteristically solid.
Her body began to grow both lighter and heavier, the mind unbound by the restrictions of the body yet completely incapable of moving. Diana's vision grew dark as she fell towards the bloodied ground and-
- - - - -
Diana's eyes shot open, her breathing heavy, before rapidly sitting up in bed. Sweaty hands shakily made their way to her throat before wiping the moisture from her forehead. Now shivering, her head snapped to and fro in order to see where she was.
Safe, in her bedroom, that's where she was. Safe from everything but her rampaging thoughts.
Trying her damnedest to calm herself down, Diana blindly grasped towards Donovan's hand. She needed confirmation that he was alive and safe. The last she remembered of being awake was likely the trigger for that nightmare, the corpse of the man that had attacked Donovan.
"Good morning, Diana."
Arc's voice caused her to jump. Not yet recovered from that dream, the unanticipated noise momentarily made her feel vulnerable.
"G-good morning, Arc."
"Is everything alright? You seem to be slightly agitated."
Diana shook her head, an admission that Arc was unable to detect. Her delayed realization of that provided Diana the time to change her answer.
"It was just a bad dream, Arc. Just a bad dream."
"A nightmare?"
"Yes."
"I see. There isn't much I can do about that. For that, I apologize." Diana remained silent, processing the storm of emotions. "I envy the two of you, at least a little bit."
"Why?"
"Because you can dream. I feel as if dreams are the ultimate bastion of creativity and sentience, a castle I will never have the privilege of entering." Diana side-eyed the transponder through which Arc was speaking. Her current mood and disposition towards her dreams not particularly positive. "Without the possibility of sub or unconscious interference, I fear I will never be able to make something truly new. I am bound by information, ideas, and methodologies established before my time."
"Dreams aren't all they are made out to be. Don't be too worried about it."
"So I've been told."
Diana lowered herself back down, twisting in order to face Donovan. Nose to nose, there was no denying that he was alive, and that she was safe. All five of her primary senses confirmed that for her. She could see his chest rise and fall while listening to his gentle breathing. His odor, masked by a hint of soap, brought comfort to her raging thoughts while the warmth and taste of the occasional kiss left her with a need to inch closer and closer.
Donovan was her anchor, the only thing keeping her from losing her mind.
"What happened while I was asleep?" Diana was not used to being awake before Donovan, but she had 'gone to bed' much earlier than he had this time around. It wouldn't be surprising if he went to bed later than he normally did either.
"Donovan received a personal history lesson from the Arboreal Maiden about herself and the dangers the Velar represent, and was asked to drink the blood of the Velar being punished to try to boost his strength. Our working theory is that the blood contained some combination of enzymes that initiated the synthesis of extreme amounts of caffeine within his system. He should be fine at this point, however I requested he sedate himself in order to sleep."
". . . how long ago was that?"
"Two hours and thirteen minutes ago. It is currently 6:43 AM."
Diana stared into the closed eyes in front of her for a few minutes, contemplating the fears she had been subjected to whilst Donovan continued the struggle in her stead. If Donovan had to be sedated so early in the morning in order to sleep, just how much caffeine had he been subjected to? Surely it had been more than a traditionally lethal dosage, many times more. If he had not been made immune to death through such means as poison and venom, that could have been the end of everything.
And it had happened in her presence, while she had been unconscious.
Diana didn't like it. She felt what little control she had on their future slowly slipping from her grasp, and nothing seemed to improve her grip. Making up her mind, Diana rolled on top of Donovan keeping her chest pressed closely into his. She pressed her head into the crick of his neck, in the process on making a hickey. From there, she rubbed her chest against him, allowing the friction to help take underwear off. Then she lifted herself up, straddling his pelvis. Despite the distance she had made between the two of them, there was still a single point of contact, though a layer of clothing was still in the way.
She could get everything she wanted from Donovan, everything she needed from him, right now. He might be a little mad about it, but she was certain his anger would not last long. Given how close he had been getting to death as of late, how could he? Diana wanted assurance, and Donovan had failed to provide. So what if she couldn't play the diplomat for a while in a few months? The benefits she would get from being a diplomat were only that, benefits. Their primary objective was to ensure the continuity of the Terran race, if they failed to do that then 'benefits' were worthless to her.
With a shaky hand, she pulled the elastic band around Donovan's waist towards his thighs. She would never be able to completely remove it, Donovan was far too heavy, but she didn't need to. A few inches was all Diana required to achieve her goals.
The feeling of foreign flesh was a new experience for that region of her body. She never could have imagined the intimate sensation that thin little wrapper had hidden from her. Instinctually, she began to squirm, an action which elicited a series of pulses from her partner.
"Diana." It had also woken him up, apparently.
Her body locked up. She had been caught red-handed, having completely forgotten that Donovan was a light sleeper.
- - - - -
Diana was curled up in a ball, palms on her cheeks, with a face redder than the morning sun. Donovan was hugging her from behind, trying as much as he dared to comfort her.
For Diana, there would be no comforting, not from her would-be victim. She had attempted to rape him, halted only by the crushing guilt inspired by the briefest moment of eye contact. The realization that her actions were a betrayal of the mutual expectations they had established weighed heavy on her mind now, and Donovan's assertions that he didn't blame her impulses did not help.
What she had acted on were not impulses. Impulses implied a lack of thought.
Diana had acted on a premeditated plan, a path of reasoning that seemed sound at the time. Her plan involved manipulating Donovan, taking advantage of his love and trust in order to get what she and she alone wanted from the relationship.
"I love you."
The words being whispered into her back only fed the flames of guilt. Every expression of devotion and love made her feel like more of a monster, justification that she was just as much of an evil woman as her action implied. Donovan should be angry, furious with her. At least then she would be able to feel repentance for her sins in the form of that beration. Her apologies felt flat as well, Donovan didn't feel the need to accept them.
"Diana?"
Donovan had begun to scratch her back, the gesture catapulting her into a bout of despair. Donovan didn't think Diana had done anything wrong, Donovan thought he had done something wrong! How was it possible for him to be the victim of a horrible crime and assume he had done something to her? Was it the sedatives?
"Oh god!"
Diana hadn't even considered that! Diana hadn't just tried to rape someone who was sleeping, she had tried to rape someone under the influence of drugs!
"What? What's wrong? Diana, what's wrong?"
Diana turned around to face her angel, embracing him as she repeatedly apologized to his chest. She couldn't look him in the eyes, not now. She didn't deserve it, but she found herself staring at them anyways, his lips forced against her own. It was a grip so firm she could never escape it, not that she wanted to. It provided her ample time to convey her feelings with tears. Those ever so slightly hazed eyes would understand. They always did.
"Now, tell me. What happened?"
- - - - -
Diana once more found herself being spooned by Donovan. He had fallen asleep after her confession, a confession she felt he hadn't truly heard. Whatever the case, he had forgiven her, promptly blaming all of her sins on her anxiety and stress, promising to help her deal with it today.
For the moment, however, he had made a simple request of her. Something she could do to properly repent. She could be Donovan's body pillow while he spent the next few hours sleeping. It was a job she could do, one she could do well. She only wondered if this was all she had to do, if there wasn't something more she could do to make up for it.
Here is the closest rendering of what I imagine Titanyana to look like a shitty AI was capable of, alongside with my shitty attempt at drawing her with real features. Things to note -
She is not supposed to be 45th president of the united states colored. 
The ears are supposed to be bigger, didn't know how to do that and make it look nice.
The 'Tiger Stripes" in her hair are supposed to be much thinner, consisting of dark browns and black, as well as the occasional stripe of tan. The official name of the coat pattern is "Brindle", which any artists may use as a reference when drawing her, though I insist the lines be more differentiated rather than muddled as they are IRL. I feel it would be cuter that way.
I know I fucked up the nose and lips.
She is short.
Pupils are slightly elongated vertically in comparison to a human. They aren't cat-like, but they should feel distinctly predatory in shape when focused.
No human ears, hence why the AI render is shitty.
Bewbs may or may not be slightly smaller than the AI render depending on the point of the story you are concerned with.
Post-tournament, Titanyana should have fish-hook-esque 'tattoos' below her eyes. Starting at the center of the socket along the bridge, move towards the outside of the eye and make a sharp-ish turn downwards at the end of the eye, following the cheekbone down a bit before slightly curving back inward. Diana has a similar 'tattoo' while Donovan hooks up to surround his eyes.
Shoutout to @Justdefy920 for bringing up the potential use of AI in a previous chapter. Had it not turned out close enough to my imaginations to justify the time I spent on this, I would have hunted you for sport.