InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Lick it, lick it GOOD."

Iris Morgenstern (unsteady) wrote in rooms,
@ 2014-06-25 15:51:00

Entry tags:

!assassin's creed, *log, bruce wayne, iris morgenstern

Who: Iris (and Bruce W)
What: Adjusting to her life in ye olde Italy.
Where: Bruce's villa in Italy
When: Right around now.
Warnings/Rating: None.

Everything was different.

That probably should have gone without saying, that Italy in the 1400s would be different than anything she'd known before - California, Seattle, Georgia, Las Vegas. ...Gotham. But she was finding that it was the small differences that were catching her the most. She expected there to be no running water and no electricity. She expected that no one else spoke the same language as she did (though Lucia was learning things, even as she taught Iris a few words in return). But she woke up to birdsong and the smell of the fields near the villa. Her new clothing sat different against her skin, layers of material that were no longer the soft fleece and knit cotton she'd grown accustomed to. If the villa truly belonged to Bruce, and the deference that people here gave him seemed to indicate that it did, he still had enough money even here to afford fine things. Like the loose, oversized chemises she wore beneath her other dresses - they were of a delicate material that was nearly sheer with the superior spinning of the thread and the weaving of it. The outer dresses and sleeves were just as lovely, though she had no idea why the dresses were being kept at the villa, as she'd seen no one else wearing such things.

The first few days after she'd arrived were filled with strangeness and adjustment, and she let herself be guided around as she grew accustomed to things. Lucia was so often there to help, even when Bruce couldn't be found (not that she went looking for him - even if it were something she might normally do, and it was not, she had a suspicion it would be frowned upon here). She was given a room to sleep in, a wardrobe filled with those fine dresses that didn't allow her to do much more than sit, for fear that she would ruin something. Her hair was braided up by Lucia's skilled fingers every morning before she was allowed to sit in rooms and on porches, out of the rich golden sun that might burn her skin and redden her cheeks. And she simply existed as the rest of the household went about its daily business.

That lasted only a few days before Iris realized that she couldn't continue on like that.

The next morning, she stopped Lucia when she was still only in one of those sheer chemises, preventing the woman from lacing her into yet another lovely dress. With pantomime and shakes of her head, pointing at Lucia's own clothing, she tried to make it clear that she wanted something more like the other woman's dress - something that she could breathe in, move in. More importantly, something that she didn't have to worry about ruining. The woman looked more than a little scandalized, gesturing to Iris and then a sweeping motion that encompassed the house around them. Without shared language, Iris could only guess at what she was trying to say, but it was clear enough that she was able to shake her head. The villa didn't belong to her, it belonged to Bruce. And since arriving, Iris had allowed herself to find some of that quiet stubbornness that she so often hid. It wasn't a demanding sort of thing, but she tried to smile and keep shaking her head until Lucia tossed up her hands and left the room to find a different dress for her. She returned with something that was still nicer than the clothing Iris had seen the other members of the household wearing (and where was she finding these things?), but that was far, far less than the dresses Iris had been laced into for the first few days. And she could tell when it was on - she wasn't quite as worried about ruining the entire thing if she so much as breathed the wrong way. She was still sat down to have her hair braided, and Lucia added a dark sapphire ribbon, as if stubbornly maintaining that Iris should have something rich about her appearance.

And then she left the rooms that she'd kept to for the past few days. She moved slowly enough, but explored farther than she'd been able to before, Lucia at her side even though Iris was certain that the woman had other things to do. They did their best to continue their strange sorts of conversations as they walked, pantomime sometimes enough to explain different things about the house and land around them. They passed other members of the household, and each one barely reacted at first as they glanced over, but just about all of them did a double-take upon seeing her, causing Lucia to launch into what was obviously some sort of explanation for Iris' presence and appearance. Each of them gave her a wary smile at that point, like they weren't quite sure how to deal with her, and she did her best to smile back, though she knew they were small as always. It seemed to be enough to reassure everyone, at least for the moment, and they all went along their way.

She didn't know what was being said about her, didn't know that the household found it very strange that she would be dressed as she was. She didn't know that they were talking about the pale slip of a woman that couldn't speak the language, that they were coming to their own conclusions about who she was (since she wouldn't understand the questions even if asked, and no one had yet worked up to asking Bruce). She didn't know that there were women at other manors that sometimes walked the grounds as well (though in finer clothing), observing the people that lived and worked there. She didn't know that those women could be prone to cruelty, to treating the members of the household with a mean disregard. She didn't know that those women were mothers and sometimes sisters, but most often the wives to the men who owned the property. They were the Ladies of the house. Had she known, she likely would have stayed hidden away in her rooms, made a greater effort to find the door back to the hotel, but her curiosity and the energy that came with the fresh air, kept her exploring and learning about what this place was like.

Between walking, Lucia sat her down with food, strange but simple things, things she was unused to. The bread was heavy and darker than she was used to, but there were always things to put on it. Oil and fruit, drippings from roasted meat, cheese and honey. Iris didn't want to eat at first, knowing how ill it would make her and attempting to make this known through hands pressed to her stomach and likely strange faces, but Lucia continued to insist, to push plates in front of her and stand there until at least some of the food was gone. It was, surprisingly, never enough to make her truly sick. And between the fresh, warm air, the walking, and the food, by the end of the week she was sleeping better at night and had just a hint of pink to her cheeks. She was still too thin, no curve at all to the body under the borrowed dresses, and those members of the household that saw her still spoke with worry about her health.

And then one day, on one of her slow walks, she found a dog. More accurately, she supposed she should say that the dog found her. He'd been lounging in the shade under one of the manor's trees, but his attention sharpened at her approach and his ears quirked at the soft sound of her voice as she tried to speak with Lucia. It was only a matter of moments before he was crossing the space between them, wagging his tail as he circled close to her legs. She stopped at first, staring down at him as Lucia did her best to find words, 'good' and something that Iris assumed likely meant 'dog'. She remembered what it was like to have a dog, and the memory hit her sharply how much she missed hers, how he'd been one of the things she'd left behind those years ago when Ian entered her life. She reached down a hand for the dog to sniff, and smiled at the cold, wet press of his nose to her fingers. He didn't stop wagging his tail, but he never jumped up on her, and it seemed to make perfect sense to go to her knees in the dirt of the path and bury her fingers in the fur of his neck, murmuring soft things to him. That wet nose pressed to the shoulder of her dress and then to her cheek, and she actually laughed as she carefully pushed his nose away from her face. Lucia stood next to her, shocked at the difference in the quiet woman, her own voice quieter with surprise as she said the dog's name, accompanied by a wag of his tail. Iris repeated it and earned a lick to her hand in return, which only made her laugh again quietly.

After a while of that, others passing by and staring at the woman (the "Lady", in their minds) making friends with the dog, Iris finally stood again and did her best to beat some of the dust from her skirts. When they began walking again, the dog accompanied them, staying close even if he hurried ahead to explore for them. He always returned to walk close to Iris' skirts, and she would occasionally reach down a hand to scratch at his ears as she talked with Lucia.

Before she was even aware of it, weeks were passing with her in Italy. And while there were things she missed about modern life, she found that she wasn't as homesick for those things as she might have expected.

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onerule
2014-06-27 02:11 am UTC (link)

Bruce had been neglecting Iris.

Albeit unintentional, the truth was that he'd been around less and less and often returned to the villa after dark, usually on horseback, and left again before dawn. He liked to watch the sun rise and set in the city, from the tallest tower, where he felt so very far away from the world below. The view was breathtaking, nothing like Gotham's gritty skyline. He liked the contrast between early and late, when the activity on the streets dwindled for different reasons. Church bells struck the hour, the devout filed in and out but he had yet to venture inside the walls; religious leaders were the most corrupt in this time, and he'd never been one to put very much faith in any god regardless. Stalls opened, food and goods being sold inside and behind doors, and he learned the city. He learned which buildings belonged to whom, towers well guarded, brothels and homes and banks, stores that sold fabric and blacksmiths for those so inclined.

He kept an eye out for the men, too, the assassins he'd met that day; he had yet to find them again, but it became a challenge of sorts. Sometimes he followed the guards, tracked their patterns and where they went, for how long, but he kept his distance; until he had reason (again) to interfere, he would only watch.

Lucia wasn't pleased. He'd managed to evade her for the most part but she always had a fair amount of angry Italian to direct his way when they did cross paths, often when he are to placate the household staff and fend off any whispers. He hadn't explained who Iris was yet, but he didn't treat her like a mother or a sister, didn't look at her like one, and part of him knew they had already drawn their own conclusions. That she was there, with him in a broad sense he refused to explain, was enough; or, in his mind, it should be enough. He'd instructed that she be taken care of, given whatever she needed, but Lucia pointed out quite emphatically that it wasn't enough-- she was right. Iris deserved better. But Harley's words had gotten under his skin and he had a hard time letting what she'd said go.

Because maybe she was right. What if he did hurt Iris? Was he taking advantage of her? Was it inevitable? Harley had no right to lecture him on things she didn't understand, on things that weren't her business, but she'd made him question himself regardless. He hated that she had. She didn't know him; who was she to tell him what to do?

Finally, though, Bruce realized what he had to do. Lucia's nagging had paid off; he didn't take off before dawn. He slept, and he awakened when the sun was already high in the sky. He washed, dressed, bypassed breakfast and set off to look for Iris. She wasn't in her room, and one of the passing stableboys told him she was walking the grounds with the dog.

So, he followed the sound of barking.

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unsteady
2014-06-27 03:54 pm UTC (link)

She didn't feel neglected.

Bruce hadn't checked up on her when she'd been staying in the Gotham penthouse, and she hadn't expected him to start now that she'd found herself in Italy at the whims of the hotel. She'd guessed that he had things to do here, the things that took him away from the villa through the sunlight hours of the day, and she didn't question it. She was there by his generosity, much like she had been in Gotham, and it wasn't her place to push him for answers. Though that didn't seem to deter the annoyed faces that Lucia made every time she managed to make it known that Bruce had left before sunrise... again. Iris only gave the woman a smile (sometimes a laugh if her face was especially twisted with the annoyance), and did her best to reassure her that it was fine. More than once, there was a quick response that included words that sounded like 'lasciare' and 'moglie', but Lucia never explained or tried to translate those.

The days had passed quietly, but with enough action and strangeness that the minutes sped by. She was doing her best to pick up words here and there, repeating the things Lucia said until they began to stick in her mind. It was a very slow process, but the other woman was doing the same with English, and their strange conversations, though still stilted and filled with pantomime and often too much confusion to overcome, were growing easier. She knew that Lucia likely had other things to do than follow her around as she continued to explore her new world, things that she did before Iris had appeared, but the woman didn't seem to mind keeping her company. Chaperoning her as she walked, joining her as she sat, glaring at her during meals. The knife-edge of guilt was continuing to grow in her stomach, and she knew it would only be another day or two before she tried to insist that she was fine and that Lucia didn't need to watch her.

But that day was still in the future, this day finding them sitting beneath a tree, Iris doing her best to toss a bit of stick for the dog to chase and retrieve. He barked every time he dropped the wood at the edge of her skirts, a demand for more play even after her arm had begun to grow tired. Her energy was better than it had once been, the air and walking helping even though her body had begun to protest the extra food. It left shadows beneath her eyes again, though she was sleeping better than she had in the past (exhausted by the fresh air and exertion of her walks), and made her want to reject the food, but it was hard to say no in the face of Lucia's stubbornness. So she did her best, even though it was a struggle. But a struggle that she was mostly able to ignore as she was taking a walk or playing with the dog. Lucia had managed to tell her that it was Bruce's dog, and that his name was Pip. She had simply accepted the name until a few nights ago, when she'd been looking out the window as a group of dark shapes flitted through the sky. Lucia had seen as well, pointed (as they both so often did), and said 'pipistrelli'. It had taken a moment to connect the dots between the creatures and the dog's name, but she'd softly replied 'bats' as she smiled (more fondly than she should have) and shook her head.

In the sunshine, Pip barely resembled a bat, fetching the stick again and dropping it in the grass near Iris' hand. He wagged his tail so hard that his entire back end shook, and she laughed again as she picked it up. Before she could throw it, Lucia's (rather pleased, from what she could tell) 'signore' caught her attention, and she looked over at the woman, who was in turn looking at an approaching figure. It took a moment for her to shade her eyes and focus on him, quickly recognizing the height, width of shoulder, and confident step. Pip barked again, and though Iris reached out (eyes still on the figure) to try to quiet the dog, he was already gone, closing the distance to greet Bruce.

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onerule
2014-07-01 02:27 am UTC (link)

Even from a distance, Bruce could clearly see the scene laid out before him. Two figures and a dog, and he was so used to stealth that it seemed strange to approach head on, in the open, no effort made to conceal himself whatsoever. His smile was rueful when Lucia called out, an acknowledgment of the days upon days they'd spent at odds; it reminded him of Alfred, and that an ache that lived beneath his ribs which would never cease. But it wasn't necessarily a bad thing, because Alfred was a good memory. One of the few, in fact, like his parents or Rachel or days gone past when he'd been young and optimistic. "Ciao, signora," he said in greeting, but his gaze was quickly drawn to the excitable dog rushing towards him. He couldn't help but laugh, a sound he rarely made, but then again rarely was anyone or anything so happy to see him.

He dropped into a crouch, just in time to have paws on his knees and a wet tongue in his face. He laughed again, ruffling the dog's fur fondly while simultaneously trying to push him down. "Hello, piccolo pipistrello," he whispered, even though the dog looked absolutely nothing like a bat. The color was the same, but that was it. Seconds ticked by as he lavished the dog with affection, perhaps stalling the inevitable, but the inevitable always came. His laughter dwindled and he looked up, expression softening ever so slightly, as he stood. The dog barked and trotted at his heels as he closed the remaining distance between himself and the woman on the ground, trying to ignore Lucia's watchful gaze.

"Hello, Iris." He shielded his eyes against the sun as he looked down at her.

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unsteady
2014-07-01 04:17 am UTC (link)

Iris watched as Pip greeted his master, and a smile took up unfamiliar residence on her face at the dog's excitement. The low laughter that made its way back toward the seated women made her blink in slight surprise, her expression open and calm as she listened to it. She wasn't sure that she'd ever heard the sound from Bruce, not like this, allowed to escape fully and not tempered by anything, including himself.

She had to laugh a bit herself at the thorough licking the dog was giving Bruce's face, though her laugh remained quiet and mostly hidden, a soft exhale as she watched. "Pip..." There was a soft scold to her voice, but she hadn't raised it much, barely carrying to where dog and man reunited. There was something good about it, something relaxed and right, and it made Iris feel good, that something was good for Bruce. She didn't realize how fond her smile had gone, how soft it was as she watched. Lucia saw, and her own smile tipped into something satisfied and knowing and a bit victorious.

Iris half expected Bruce to turn and go again once he'd claimed Pip. Perhaps on a walk of their own. Pip was his dog, after all, and there was no reason for the man to not want his own dog with him on whatever business filled his days. Or whatever leisure, as there didn't seem to be any business-like urgency to his posture when he stood again. She prepared to lift her fingers, her hand, in a wave. Though only if he looked over before walking away to wherever his days took him. But instead he began to walk closer, and her fond smile slipped quickly into surprise and a touch of confusion as he neared. She tried to chase it away - he had to talk to Lucia, likely - but she blinked up at him at the sound of her own name.

"...Hello, Bruce." And then, because she's been practicing with Lucia, "Buongiorno." It's rough, the pronunciation still rocky, but a brief glance at Lucia receives a smile and a nod before her gaze shifts back up to Bruce.

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onerule
2014-07-02 03:41 am UTC (link)

Oh, he hardly minded the dog's affection. It was nice, really, and though he'd had Martha back in Gotham cats weren't... quite the same. But Eddie was looking after her so far as he knew and it was probably better that way. Bruce felt like a different person, here, like he could shed his tired old persona and start piecing together who he was underneath. Gotham was Gotham, and this was this. He wasn't ready for the two to meet just yet. Maybe someday soon, yes, but not today.

Her surprise and confusion were impossible to miss, but he didn't let either deter him. He couldn't. Her attempt at Italian made him smile, perhaps a touch too fond before it evened out into something more appropriate; his life was a tangled web of a mess, and he didn't want to get her mixed up in it any more than necessary. A fine line to walk, maybe an impossible one, but his intentions were to try.

"Buongiorno," he echoed, making no actual attempt to correct her pronunciation. He hesitated, just for a moment, before extending a hand to her. "Walk with me?"

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unsteady
2014-07-02 02:22 pm UTC (link)

Bruce's smile at her Italian earned one of her own, the tips of her ears (visible under the braids and curls Lucia had teased everything into that morning) turning a pale pink - something that might almost be blamed on venturing out too long in the sun. She smiled in return though, warmth shared for that passing moment until she too pulled back on it, looking down at her hands for a moment. She still smiled, though, a small thing by anyone else's standards, but obvious if anyone knew her usual expressions.

His second greeting made her look up again, and though she didn't realize, her lips moved slightly as she (once again) repeated the greeting to herself, trying to match his pronunciation in her mind. She was focused on that so much that for a moment she didn't quite register his extended hand or his question. She blinked at him at first, at his hand, then over at Lucia, as if the other woman might provide some sort of answer other than a widening smile, then at Pip, who'd calmed enough to sit about halfway between her and Bruce with an interested angle to his head. Everyone seemed to be waiting on her, her response, and with a visible jolt, she shook herself into action. "Alright."

Her fingers were cold as they slipped into Bruce's hand, the sort of chill that was nearly permanent, that hadn't faded even since her arrival in the Italian sun. She did her best not to tug at him too hard as she rose, though the dress still had enough skirt to it to require a bit of help when rising from the ground. She used her other hand to brush at her skirts, hoping not too much dust or grass stuck to her, but she didn't pull her hand away from Bruce's at first. At first. Until she realized that she likely should, and her fingers twitched as she tried to figure out a way to pull away again without seeming rude. She found herself at a loss, and simply looked at their hands.

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onerule
2014-07-07 03:13 am UTC (link)

Her smile reminded him of that night in the penthouse, rain and exhaustion and that tiny spark of pleasure that came from knowing someone was not miserable in his presence, that he was not so negative that he could smother all smiles. As he had then, Bruce liked it now. There was something sweet in the way she looked down, the way that warmth persisted as though she was unaware of it. He thought again, briefly, of what Harley had said, and then he pushed her entirely from his mind. He had no real intentions, no plan to use her to forget Selina or anything of the sort. Iris deserved better. She meant more. She wasn't just some thing to be discarded at whim and he resented Harley for insinuating as such, when she didn't know him or Iris, nor was his business any of hers to meddle in.

It was only the dog and Lucia present, yet he felt as though he had an audience of dozens. Nerves weren't often a problem but, just then, he felt a brief flash of anxiety that she might refuse, might say no, and then where would he be? But she accepted, and he was careful to not look at Lucia lest he see the pleased, even triumphant, smile he suspected would be waiting for him if his gaze shifted in her direction. He remained solid and firm as Iris accepted his hand and stood, in case she needed to use him for support to lift herself, and he was surprised at how cold her fingers were. It was so warm here, and that the chill had persisted worried him. Maybe she was unwell, but such concerns were put aside for later. He needed to focus on what he intended to say or else they would be trapped in awkward silence.

He cleared his throat, a small thing, and glanced down at their hands. She didn't pull away, and he wasn't sure if he should; oh, he knew what Lucia would prefer, but he was trying to pretend she wasn't there. His fingers twitched, but he didn't sever the hold. "I wanted to... apologize," he began, and he took a step forward, encouraging her into movement beside him. Walking would make it easier to speak; it was distraction. "For leaving you alone. I've been... absent, lately, and it isn't fair to you."

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unsteady
2014-07-07 04:30 am UTC (link)

Had Iris known the sorts of things that Harley had said, she would have been so very confused. She would never think that Bruce was the one using her - wasn't she the one that took all of his help, his kindness, his support? And had she known Bruce's thoughts... No, he was providing her with far more than she deserved. And she was greedily taking all of it with barely a second thought.

But those thoughts were far from her mind in that moment, chased away by the Italian sun and the warmth of his hand around hers. It was difficult to think of much else when he was that solid presence next to her, steady enough to provide support as she stood. She didn't think much about it, did her best not to, but there was something that made her breathe easier around him. Italy itself should have been frightening, much less the time period, but she hadn't been nearly as anxious as she should have been, and so much of that was due to being allowed to live in a space that was his. After everything that had happened in her life, and she knew that he knew at least parts of it, he let her stay in a space that was his, and it made her feel safely content.

The clearing of his throat made her look up just as he looked down, missing each other's gazes, but then she returned her glance to their hands as well. She still wasn't certain if she should slip her fingers out of his grasp, and almost did at the twitch of his, but then he was speaking, moving, and she stepped with him, trying to match her shorter stride to his. The warmth of his skin against hers made her fingers just a little less chilled, and she smiled as Pip caught up to them after their first few steps. But the smile faded quickly at his next words, and she shook her head, though she kept her gaze on where her feet continued to step. "You don't need to apologize. I'm fine. I've..." She tried to find the words to reassure him, and though her previous thought of letting Lucia in peace still lingered in her mind, "Lucia's been spending time with me, and I know you have things to do." Of course he did. Even here, she knew he was important. And then, trying to reassure him. "I'm fine on my own..."

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onerule
2014-07-09 03:27 am UTC (link)

Not once had Bruce thought, for even a second, that Iris was using him. He was more than happy to offer his help and she was stubborn in her own way, not conceding easily; regardless, he knew she wasn't that kind of person. She was the furthest thing from selfish imaginable. She was probably the only person who wouldn't have resented him for leaving Gotham, who wouldn't accused him of being selfish and not caring. She was different in every single way, so very not the gritty city he'd grown up in, and he liked that.

Time seemed slower here. Calmer. He could breathe easier, and he hadn't woken up disappointed that he was still alive in weeks. That had to be progress. And Iris's presence seemed natural, somehow, not like an intrusion at all. He only regretted leaving her to her own devices so carelessly even though that hadn't been his intention. Perhaps he would do better with words here, with her, neither willing to break the contact they'd established. He tried to keep his strides slow so she could keep up, a small courtesy.

The dog's presence earned a hint of a smile, but he sobered quickly enough when returning to the conversation at hand. "I'm glad you haven't been alone," he said, "but you are, technically, my guest. You're staying in my home, and you're not even familiar with the language." He failed to realize his use of the word home here, when it had for so long referred to Gotham. "I'm not doing anything of importance. Not really. I should have been here. I will be," he added. "You haven't seen the city. I could show you."

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unsteady
2014-07-09 04:53 am UTC (link)

She didn't think of herself as stubborn, never quite registered those moments when she pushed back. Never quite expected the frustration that snapped into anger, but only in certain, rare cases. She didn't see it as stubborn to not want to force people to care for her. She didn't have that balance quite perfected, not yet. She'd grown up too sheltered to truly stand on her own, but she could try to push away those that felt obligated to step in to aid her. And when she didn't push - that was being selfish. In her own mind.

And as for not blaming Bruce for leaving Gotham... She'd seen him in Gotham. That night when he'd slipped into the penthouse, sheltering from the rain. The way he had ended up there for lack of anywhere else to hide. The way he'd fallen apart before he'd known she was there. She remembered the tearing, broken sound of sobs in the dark of the room, the way it caught at something soft and worried in her. The way it sounded familiar to something inside. She would never blame him for leaving, because she suspected (both now and in those dark nighttime moments) that the only other option was one much darker, more drastic. More permanent. She saw the leaving as care for himself. How could anyone see it as anything else?

Even though her own pace was usually quite slow still as she wandered the manor's grounds, she did her best to keep up with Bruce, glad for his shortened stride. She wasn't quite certain how long she could keep it up before she needed to slow or rest, but for the moment, she walked next to him, her fingers continuing to warm in his hand.

She smiled at Pip too, but hers stayed, faint though it was, as they walked. "Lucia and I have been learning from each other." She said a few words in Italian ("bats" being one of them), the pronunciation not quite right on a few of them, but at least recognizable. "I don't think we'll ever be able to have deep philosophical discussions, but we're getting by." And she knew that the longer she was there, the more surrounded she was by the language, the faster it would come. Though it was likely that her accent would be terrible forever.

She didn't pay much attention either to his use of the word "home", but it seemed to fit. It didn't stick out like maybe it should have. If it had, she would have only thought of it as his home here. And Wayne Manor was his home there. Maybe the distinction shouldn't have been quite so easy, but it didn't bother her. "You're doing so much already. Just letting me be here." She shook her head, a few of the curls near her face catching the light with her movement. "You don't have to do anything more. It's more than enough." The talk of the city though... she wasn't even exactly certain where in Italy they were. "What city?"

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onerule
2014-07-13 11:02 pm UTC (link)

Maybe the true comfort in her presence was that she understood. She'd seen him at his worst, something most people couldn't lay claim to, and yet she was still here, at his side. He hadn't hurt her, either. There was no real guilt associated with her, no reason to feel as though his presence was negatively affecting her. Maybe, one day, he would feel that way. Maybe it was, as Harley had said, inevitable. But for the moment Bruce thought maybe, just maybe, he was helping instead of harming.

Gotham was far, far away from his thoughts. It was easier to forget now, in the sun; at night it was harder. "I'm glad," he said, of her and Lucia learning from one another; he smiled at her attempts at Italian. The use of 'bats' elicited a particular sort of fondness. "You're getting better. Brava," he added.

As for him doing 'so much already' by letting her stay here, he shook his head, unable to agree. "It's no trouble," he told her. "You being here isn't an... inconvenience. I don't mind." He stopped just short of saying he liked having her around. "Florence," he said, when she asked what city. "It isn't too far on horseback."

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unsteady
2014-07-14 02:22 pm UTC (link)

If they'd spoken about it, the darker parts of themselves, they would likely have found too many similarities in the way their thoughts turned. She wasn't worried about him hurting her, not in the slightest, but she was concerned still about her presence being a poison in his life. It was a thought she did her best to ignore in favor of time in the Italian sun, but it snuck in at quiet moments, insisting that it was only a matter of time. Because it always was. She knew that she was too broken for it not to spill over onto the people around her. Especially those who were closest and most caring. And she also knew that she should leave before that happened, but the quiet in this place made her reluctant, made her think that maybe this time it would be alright. Maybe. (She didn't know how many 'maybe's they had between them.)

The reassurance that her Italian was getting better earned a soft, short breath of laughter and a shake of her head. She looked up at him and her eyes were warm for just a moment, amused. in her quiet way. "I don't think it counts as 'better' if I started at less than nothing." She paused as her feet continued to move forward. "I understand more than I can speak so far, but I think that's normal? I think I read that somewhere about learning a different language."

It would take more than a few words to reassure her that she wasn't at least some sort of inconvenience. It was an opinion built on years of thought and experience, trailing all the way back to her sightless childhood in her parents' home. She wasn't aware how all those years warped her viewpoint of her place in other people's lives, and that sort of history wasn't erased overnight. Even if there was sun and an Italian villa.

As for the city, the thought of it sparked some interest. It was one thing to know that she was in Italy. In the 1400s. There were things that made that very obvious. But to actually visit a city... it was an intriguing thought. "I've never ridden a horse," was the first thing out of her mouth, and she looked down at the full skirts of the dress she wore, the hand not (still) held in his touching the fabric. She knew that the other dresses (ones that might likely be required for a trip into the city) were even worse. And then that hint of laughter was back, again at her own expense, though not viciously. "If you can figure out how to make it work with whatever I'm going to need to wear, I think I'd like to go. If it's not too much to ask..."

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onerule
2014-07-16 03:29 pm UTC (link)

Maybe it would have done them both some good, to share their thoughts and realize that they both feared similar things. He was worried about inevitably hurting her, as she was worried about inevitably hurting him, but both clung to maybes, to the hope that it could be different this time. Bruce thought that if he was aware of his tendency to hurt those around him then he could prevent it with Iris, take steps to keep it from happening, but even so he wondered if he was just making excuses. If, like everyone else, she deserved better. He knew it wasn't healthy to think such things, and he was trying to move away from that, to heal himself of that self-deprication, but it was a long, hard road he had to travel ahead of him. No one else, or very few, seemed to understand that.

He smiled when she laughed, and the warmth there, her amusement, was such a welcome change from what he was used to. Maybe it was selfish, but didn't everyone want to spend time with those who wanted to be in their presence, those who didn't resent or demand but were simply there? "It does," he countered. "From nothing, you can only get better." And he nodded when she said that she could understand more than she could speak; that was normal, certainly so. "It is. But with practice, speaking it will improve. You'll be having conversations in no time." Not necessarily true, perhaps an exaggeration, but a little encouragement never hurt.

The interest sparked when he mentioned the city just made him want to show it to her even more. "I can teach you," he assured her, in response to her concern that she didn't know how to ride. "You won't be the first woman to ride a horse, Iris. We'll find proper clothing, and it isn't too much to ask at all. I'd like to show you."

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unsteady
2014-07-17 02:06 pm UTC (link)

His smiles made something unfamiliar in her go soft and warm, made her greedy for more of them even though part of their appeal was their rarity. They made her smile in return, pleased in a satisfied sort of way. Her smiles would never be the lush, seductively feminine things that Selina was able to pull so easily to her own lips, but there was just a hint there of it, the line of her mouth soft and relaxed for just a moment instead of hard and anxious.

The smile faded again just a bit as she thought about her fluency (or lack thereof) in the new language. But she nodded at Bruce's words, knowing that he was right. The longer she was there, the more she was forced to practice, to live among people that didn't speak her own language, the easier and faster theirs would come to her. "I don't know about conversations," she managed as she shook her head just slightly, "But maybe I won't be quite as confused." The encouragement was appreciated though, even if she covered it over with a layer of realism.

He'd like to show her. The statement made her look over and up at him again, studying his expression for a moment like she was looking for something. For the polite lie hidden beneath the courtesy. But though she wasn't always the best at reading people, she couldn't find anything there other than truth. Maybe he actually did want to teach her to ride a horse, to take her into the city. The thought of it made her flush, just a bit, and nod. And (though she didn't quite realize it) it made her fingers tighten on his for just a second as they continued to walk. And the smile returned. "I'd like that." It felt strange, the words, the thought that someone would go out of their way to give her something she might enjoy. It made her look down at her feet as they walked, but the smile lingered.

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