|
Post by wordy on Aug 9, 2012 11:48:56 GMT 10
Title: Refused my history, forgot my name Rating: G Team: PotS/DL Prompt: when the desert refused my history Word count: 175 Summary: The Bazhir are in his blood.
Zahir folds the piece of paper, then unfolds it again. He knows the inked words line for line. He can say them in his sleep.
All that is left is to talk with her family. There’s no doubt in his mind, or hers. She knows, he tells himself, remembering her smile, feeling the swell of his chest. All that stands between them is her father, and an aunt or two.
There is another reason he has waited this long, one he hasn’t dared to tell her. Afraid she would dismiss it, laugh, though he knows such a response would not be like her, not at all.
The Bazhir are in his blood. He still feels the call of the desert, though it’s been years since his childhood there.
With this marriage, it feels as though that path behind will close itself off.
He has been in Tortall for too long.
A stalemate, then. He will marry her; soon, he thinks, and tucks the paper away into his tunic. It is inevitable. As all things are.
|
|
|
Post by Tamari on Aug 10, 2012 12:52:17 GMT 10
Heartbreaking. There's such a deep sense of cultural haunting here and the last line is so poignant: "It is inevitable. As all things are."
|
|