Diana regeneration

The fabric was charred black near its edges-- all but the lasso in a tangle at her waist, still as pristine as it had been when they left for the party.  Her skin was pink in places.
Where the bullets struck, Alia realized.  The wounds had already healed.
Alia had known Diana was strong, that there was some kind of magic at work on her island, but this was different.  She’d thrown tables like frisbees.  She’s lept into a moving plane.  She’d survived an explosion and a gunfight with little more than a few bumps and scratches.