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Bruce had been in the middle east for a good five years - long enough to earn a place amongst his brethren there. Once fair skin had tanned brown from the sun, and unless one looked into his bright blue eyes, few gave the man a second look as he passed among the peoples of the desert.

He had caught the eye of a certain warlord however, and the brave and strong warrior had brought much honor to the clan. because of this, the warlord had offered his only daughter to Bruce, yet Bruce had declined with as much honor as he could. He did not deserve such a prize, and claimed that his lord's thanks for all that hard work was enough thanks.

It wasn't because Bruce didn't want Talia.. it was just.. he had work to do.

Bruce was still finding himself, at the ripe old age of 25, and he still had a goal in life that had to be fulfilled. He couldn't be taking a wife (no matter how much he enjoyed her company and sought her out to speak for long hours in the garden,) until his goals were completed.

Ah.. but the Warlord was wise, and saw the attraction between the blue-eyed man and his beautiful daughter. And so, Ra's endeavored to legitimatize their marriage the good old fashioned way. He summoned Talia to his side and told her of his plan, and then sent Talia and her soon-to-be husband off in to the desert on a wild goose chase. Ra's had declared them married, and so they were. Once the relationship had been consummated, it would be binding and considered lawful in the eyes of their peoples.

That goose chase had been leading them in big winding circles through the desert, and about a week into it, tensions were running high. It was hard for Bruce to deny that a part of himself called out to Talia, and it was becoming increasingly hard for him to treat her with the respect that her culture demanded. If she were American, the whole situation might be different - but he knew better than to lay a hand on the girl, lest he face her father's wrath. He had no idea their whole mission was aimed in fact for him to breakdown and take what was already his.

Night was falling, and Bruce had spent the last little bit setting up their small cozy tent. There was barely enough room for one person, let alone two, but the small low tent was preferable in storms because it offered more shelter than a bigger and more easily pulled over tent would offer. The desert was starting to settle into night, and once he had the tent set, he went about starting them a fire so that they might share some tea.

"It will be a beautiful night." he said to Talia is perfect, flawless Arabic.

Date: 2010-02-17 09:51 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mr-bruce-wayne.livejournal.com
"I guess I saw a dark side of Gotham from an early age.." began Bruce. His words unfolded into a long story of sadness and loneliness. Of a childhood cut too short and a life long purpose. Bruce hasn't figured out exactly what he is going to do yet, that will come in a year or two, but for now it seems enough to share his sad tale with Talia.

Somewhere along the way, Bruce found himself silently thanking whatever force brought the bright and innocent girl into his life. She was something he had never really allowed himself to have, and as he slowly opened himself up to the possibility of sharing any part of himself with another person, the more he revealed to Talia.

Bruce was a man of few words - he had never spoken this much about himself in the past, but maybe that helped the tale that he told have more of a heartbreaking quality. Or perhaps it was the deep grief that laced his tone when he spoke of his parent's death, and his vows to their graves to protect any one else from living their life as alone as he has had to live his.

Well. Not alone anymore.

Date: 2010-02-17 09:57 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] all-for-father.livejournal.com
She listened intently, waiting for him to finish before she spoke out of a combination of politeness, cultural binding and respect for what he was saying.

"Your parents gave you so much. But most importantly you have their memories," she said simply, meaning memory of. She was trying on English again, if she could express this she could handle everything, "I lost my mother when I was very young. I have very little memory of her."

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