_taliaalghul (_taliaalghul) wrote in newalliance, @ 2016-07-30 13:02:00 |
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Entry tags: | lois lane-kent, talia al ghul |
Who: Talia & Open (or otherwise a narrative?)
What: Talia muses over her machinations during dinner.
Where: Metropolis, CT
When: Friday, July 29th
Rating: PG most likely
Notes: Anyway I changed my FC to Moran Atias:D
Nyssa, it seemed, had gone to ground-- possibly for a considerable amount of time, as she had not made herself known in the past few weeks. That would not keep Talia from pursuing her goals however, and with Jason in possession of a new weapon, she could only that if Nyssa still had a presence in Gotham, they would surface to defend themselves soon enough.
And if they didn't, that was one more city Talia had conquered right under her elder sister's nose.
In the meantime there were other matters at hand; those involving her current occupation at LexCorp and the scientific endeavors that Luthor had offered to her. His interest in genetics was specious at best, splicing Kryptonian and human DNA, and yet there was a certain product of just such theories that seemed to be generally capable (if not particularly brilliant, unlike her own son). They were points to consider; and while she was still warring with Nyssa, she could not risk over-angering Luthor, given his sponsorship of her current activities... but she liked the idea of him having a Kryptonian army nearly as much as she liked the idea of having both eyes gouged out with dull spoons.
Luthor was a problem-- but not one she was in a position to solve at the moment. And she was not stupid enough to think that he didn't think exactly the same thing of her. For now, they were allies of necessity; they could avoid their differences to work towards their mutual goals... but eventually those tables would turn, and Talia had no plans to be any less than the absolute victor.
These difficulties said nothing of her own, personal troubles-- of her Beloved's recent and abrupt nuptials. She, quite obviously, had not been invited-- nor had she heard any rumors to suggest it before she'd read it in the paper. It stung, but in the grander scheme, it made little difference. He had made it clear on multiple occasions that he did not care to be bound to her. While he denied it, she still considered herself his wife-- and it was not outside the realm of possibilities for a man to take two or more wives; particularly a man who could afford to support them. Even with that aside; while she still considered their marriage quite valid, fidelity was not something she had ever expected-- nor, would she imagine, he had expected it of her. After all, as long as he continued to deny their marriage, she would do exactly as she pleased, and leave him to the same.
That wasn't to say it didn't sting as an insult; but all could be forgiven.
What concerned her most though was Damian. Damian was, of course, her Beloved's only true heir. When the Lance woman had spent time with her father, she had learned that she was unable to bear children, so even Bruce' union with her was unlikely to bear fruit, leaving Damian entirely unchallenged. Still, Talia did not take to the idea of another woman raising her son-- would he call her mother? Would he speak to her freely? Tell her his thoughts and desires? Would they bond as mother and son while she-- his actual mother who had given him life and preserved it for so many years-- was left with nothing and no one?
Those were not yet questions that could be answered, and that in and of itself troubled her.
To that end, she had decided to dine alone with her thoughts for company. The restaurant was certainly not the best in town; but neither was it for the casual diner. A glass of white wine sat beside her plate, generously refilled by the attentive waiter. Her dinner, seabass en papillote with summer vegetables had been picked it, but she could find little enjoyment even in her meal. Despite the impolite table manners, Talia rested her elbow on the white-clothed table and tucked her fingers under her chin, her green eyes turning out to the window overlooking the futuristic city.
In time, all things would come together, all plans would see fruition-- it was merely a matter of sustained and careful patience