Bakura peered out from behind one shadowed corner and watched carefully as Marik disappeared behind the next one, waiting a few seconds before continuing to follow cautiously behind. He hadn't been along these streets before, and if it wasn't for now he probably wouldn't have considered their existence of any importance. However now he couldn't help but wonder, drawn in by his curiosity he continued to cautiously trail Marik through these streets that were unknown to him.
In the light of the moon he watched the scenery around him began to change, the proper houses and dwelling began to thin out and the sand began to drift in on the pathways and streets until everything seemed to be lost to the sand dunes besides one or two buildings here or there. Bakura darted into an unoccupied residence, watching Marik out the window from the darkened corner that hid his physical self. If Marik continued out into the desert there would be no means by which he would be able to follow him.
It was Bakura's lucky day. Marik instead of trekking into the desert walked into one of the more destroyed houses. Bakura, thankful for the partially destroyed wall, watched as Marik suddenly crouched down, only his head visible over the rubble that had once served as a wall. Bakura crept closer to the window and peered out in confusion, it looked as if Marik was talking, or muttering to someone on the ground of the destroyed dwelling. Slipping back out the door he had entered by, Bakura made his way cautiously towards Marik's left, pausing a good distance away and hoping the Marik hadn't sense his presence. Marik gave no indication that he knew of Bakura's presence, and Bakura was certain that Mariks lips were indeed moving.
Circling at a distance once more, Bakura crept closer, using the large rocks and assorted rubble from the past buildings as cover he paused at a good viewpoint. Marik was indeed talking, but not to someone as the only thing beside Marik in the remains of the dwelling was what appeared to be a roughly created tomb stone with the broken dwelling serving as a makeshift burial ground. Bakura watched as Marik ran a finger along what he figured was the engravings of whomever the tomb belonged to.
He stiffened slightly as Marik suddenly stood up, however he did not turn around but stayed standing, head tilted looking down at the grave, blonde hair shining a goldish silver colour in the moonlight that lit up the surrounding buildings and the desert sands. Bakura got the impression that it was time for him to go back into proper hiding. With a quick glance back at Marik, he swiftly darted back into the abandoned building that he had already once used for shelter.
…
Marik was gone, he had walked passed what seemed like a long time again, and now Bakura quietly walked back out into the open before approaching the tombstone. The light from the moon that shone over the partially destroyed walls made making out the hurriedly scratched name a lot easier. Isis Ishtar. The final name sounded familiar and after a moments thought Bakura remembered where he had last heard it. The High Priest, Seto, had called Marik by that name when they had shown up at his estate after Malik had run to the pharaoh; he wasn't pleased with Marik. So Ishtar was Mariks last name, so Isis must have been his mother, or even sister, which one it was Bakura wasn't sure.
Turning away from the tomb Bakura hurried back down what he figured was the way he had come here, he needed to get back to the temple preferably before Marik got home so as not to risk alerting Marik to his snooping. Maybe he should have left earlier, however he wanted to know who's tomb it was that he had never noticed Marik leave to visit until now.
Bakura was lucky, he caught up to Marik, the blonde male in what seemed to be no hurry or care for the approaching sunrise as he walked up the temple steps before simply climbing back in through his makeshift bedroom window. Bakura, hurried in through the temple entrance and heading down column lined hallway towards the room he had taken as his own.
He stoped dead in his tracks as he spotted Marik perched onto of a large wooden chest in his room. He glared at the intruder as his mind raced for some half believable excuse for where he had been. However he never got the chance to use it as Marik was already standing and walking towards him, and then past him.
"Don't follow me."
"Was Isis your mother's name?" Bakura asked. Marik stoped momentarily.
"No,my sister," he said plainly before turning and staring at Bakura as if to ask if he had any more time wasting questions before he either kept walking or killed him.
"Is she why you have this grudge against the Pharaoh, because he killled her?" Bakura asked pushing his luck, sure grudge wasn't the best word to describe Mariks hatred of the Pharoah. There was no response. But then Marik laughed, one of those cold laughs that told you that you knew nothing or couldn't be more wrong, and with that Marik vanished around the corner and out of sight.
Bakura breathed a breath of relief falling down onto the matt spread out across the floor; he never knew how far he could push Marik. However he would have to try to push him just a bit further, just until he could get an agreement from Marik to help him acquire something or to be more precise; someone.