broadsword_babe: (Miranda (Victorian Elegance))
The idea shamelessly ganked from here.

1. Pick a character, pairing, or fandom you like.
2. Turn on your music player and put it on random/shuffle.
3. Write a drabble related to each song that plays. You only have the time frame of the song to finish the drabble; you start when the song starts, and stop when it’s over. No lingering afterwards!
4. Do ten of these, then post them.

Winter Wonderland ~ Harry Connick, Jr. )

Marble Halls ~ Enya )

I Don't Wanna Fight ~ Tina Turner )

La Isla Bonita ~ Madonna )

Wherever I May Roam ~ Metallica )

Prelude from Partita No. 3 ~ Johann Sebastian Bach )

When You Wish Upon A Star ~ Glenn Miller )

We Will Rock You ~ Queen )

Please Send Me Someone To Love ~ Sade )

Standing Outside the Fire ~ Garth Brooks )
broadsword_babe: (Stock (cowgirl))
Where: Cripple Creek, Colorado
When: October, 1994
Alias: Elaine Jameson

"Who's Methos?"

I nearly choked on my coffee and stared at Wade over the brim of the mug. Just where the hell'd he heard about him?

"Who?" I asked blankly, but all the while my mind raced trying to come up with a cover.

"Methos," Wade answered bluntly. "You mumbled something about him in your sleep. Sounded like you two were hot and heavy."

I tried keeping my best poker face on, but I could still feel a tinge of hot embarrassment climb up my neck. In two thousand years, I still hadn't been able to break myself of talking in my sleep. Problem was, I couldn't remember dreaming about him. I made myself another cup of coffee both as a stall tactic and to try and compose myself.

"Elaine...?" Wade prompted. "Who is he? And what kind of name is Methos? Sounds Greek or something."

Bless him for coming up with that!

"He was," I answered, stirring my cup of coffee. "He was a Greek exchange student when I was in high school. I was a junior, he was a senior. Guess I kinda had a crush on him. Haven't thought about him in years though."

"Methos... what? Didn't the guy have a last name?" Wade asked.

I sipped my coffee as my mind worked on trying to come up with an appropriate Greek surname. "Kanakaredes. Methos Kanakaredes."

Wade frowned. "And you two never...?"

"No, never," I answered. That, at least, was the truth.

"And that dream...?" he asked.

"Wasn't it Freud who said, 'sometimes a dream is just a dream'?"

Quinnleigh Kincaid
Highlander OC
263 Words
broadsword_babe: (Stock (cowgirl))
Where: Eastern New Mexico
When: February 14, 1983
Alias: Elaine Brown

"Marry me."

I nearly choked on my mouthful of hashbrowns, and stared at him. "I... Uh... What?"

He smiled at my nearly being speechless. "I know this isn't the most romantic spot to ask and all, but you know the kids love you."

He was right about that. A Waffle House somewhere in the middle of eastern New Mexico wasn't exactly a ritzy restaurant in Paris. I stared at him and then looked over at the two kids swinging back and forth on the counter stools.

Truth was, I loved them, too. And they needed a mom. And I liked feeling needed.

I looked at him again, speechless. There he was, in a faded cotton shirt, his best jeans, the belt buckle he'd just won, and his brown sweat-stained hat on the seat next to him, upside down. I watched as he dug around in his pocket, not an easy thing to do, given the fit of the Wranglers. He pulled something out, but kept it in his hand so I wouldn't see it.

"This was my granma's," he said softly. "It's the only thing I have of hers. Normally, I'd wanta ask your daddy first, but since he ain't here..."

My throat closed on the lie. I'd tried to avoid him out on the circuit. I wanted time to myself, time to forget about the past ninety years. But he was always there, every rodeo, every town, every motel. That had lasted all of three months. The next three months were spent getting to know him and his two kids.

"Wade, I..." I tried to protest.

He then showed me the ring: a deep green emerald in a platinum setting. My heart stopped. I didn't realize he was serious.

"But... I... you don't know anything about me," I finally managed to say.

"The way I figure it, we've got the rest of our lives to sort all that out," he answered simply. "Besides, Elaine, no one's supposed to be alone. Even you."

The small restaurant turned into a massive watery blur as I realized he was right. So what if he was a mortal and I wasn't? We could make it work, couldn't we?

Two weeks later, we were standing in front of a Justice of the Peace in Albuquerque, and I hadn't known him for a full year. Funny how things work out.
broadsword_babe: (Miranda (b/w tear))
Continued from here.

What secrets do you wish you hadn’t kept?

Rubbing down Snowdancer was just the therapy I needed after what had happened with the kids. I'd been able to concentrate on something else for a little bit. Besides it wasn't like the mustang could tell a soul what I'd said. I stomped the snow from my boots and let myself in quietly through the mudroom. From the den, I could hear Wade and the kids deep in conversation.

"But she's not our real mom," I heard Erin argue as I walked towards the door.

I stopped cold in the middle of the hallway, something inside me screaming to pack up and leave. Then and there. Tonight. And never look back. I'd done it a million times before, and I could damn well do it again.

"You're right, she's not," Wade replied softly, sadly. "She never talks about it, but she can't have kids."

"Why not?" Erin asked.

"She said something about getting kicked as a kid that fouled up those plans but good," he answered.

It was a lie. A lie I'd told him just a few weeks after we'd first met, but I couldn't see myself marching in there and saying "the reason is, I'm Immortal and we can't have kids." As Wade's uncle Charlie once said, "that'd go over like a fart in church on Sunday." Even better than that would be, "hon, I know we've been married for twenty-plus years, but I'm nearly as old as Christ." Again, another fart in church. I knew Wade. He couldn't stand for anyone to lie to him for any reason, and for me to keep something that huge from him for that long would be something he'd never forgive me for.

"You two have to understand, we're the only family she has." At least that was the truth. "She never had any brothers or sisters, and her parents died in a car wreck just before she graduated high school. All she had were her daddy's truck and Falling Water."

I pressed my lips together, trying to hold back a sob. More lies, more secrets. I had to explain how I ended up on the circuit. I knew rodeo folk were a proud bunch and if they ever caught wind that I had a bank account big enough to buy Texas, I'd never hear the end of it.

"She could've ended up doing other things to make ends meet." I knew, just as the kids did, that he meant other things as being a hooker or worse. "Instead, she did the only things she knew how. She rode. She raced. She trained. I've never seen anyone who can train a horse like her. I knew then that if she treated a man as good as she did a horse, he was one lucky fella."

The wistful tone in Wade's voice was my undoing. Before I could make an absolute fool of myself, I retreated upstairs. I looked around the room Wade and I shared. Night was just falling outside of the windows as I sat with a battered old photo album on my lap. In it were pictures of Wade and I on the circuit, at our wedding in front of a justice of the peace, with the kids at various rodeos, finally buying the ranch, me training our first horse. Little by little, in each picture, Wade aged and the the kids grew, but I never changed a bit. Sure, I had the odd moment where I cut my hair, but for the most part, I remained just as I had been nearly two thousand years ago.

I couldn't tell him now. It was too late for "oh, hon, by the way"s. Not for the first time, I cursed my Immortality. For once I wanted to know what it would've been like to have children of my own, to grow old with someone, to be a grandparent. As long as I kept my head, those things couldn't happen, and even if I did lose my head, it was over and I'd be six feet under. Gods how I hated this secret, this burden, this truth, and this pain.

Quinnleigh Kincaid
Highlander OC
690 Words
broadsword_babe: (Miranda (b/w orly))
January, 2007
Cripple Creek, CO
Alias: Elaine Jameson

I wasn't just mad, I was furious. The whole back forty acres of pasture had been turned into a rutty, muddy pit. There were tire tracks everywhere, and it looked for the world like half the SUVs and 4x4s in the state had had a Mud Bowl on my ranch. I couldn't believe Scot and Erin were so irresponsible as to not know about it. I turned in the saddle as I heard the triple-plod of someone approaching at a lope.

"How bad is it?" Wade asked, riding up.

"See for yourself," I said, jerking my chin in the direction of the pasture.

"Dammit," he swore, taking off his sweat-stained hat to run a hand over his brown hair. "I did not raise those two to act like that."

"And I did?" I shot back.

"That wasn't what I meant, Elaine, and you know it."

"So, what do they have to say for themselves?"

"They'd only mentioned it to a couple of their friends and it got out of hand," he answered. "Some deejay up in Denver heard about it, said something about it on the air, and next thing they knew five hundred people showed up."

"Five hundred..." I repeated. "So, what do we do now?"

"I already called the radio station and they're willing to foot the bill for mending some of the fence," Wade replied. "It's not really the kids' fault that the station put it out there."

I agreed that the fact things got out of hand wasn't something they could have foreseen, but they shouldn't have mentioned anything in the first place, especially while Wade and I were out of town looking at new stock. Someone could've been hurt, or maybe even killed, and we'd be liable for it. Naturally, that just fueled my already heated temper. Without another word, I kicked Snowdancer into a full gallop, hoping the ride back to the house would cool my jets. It did, barely. I found the two of them sitting at opposite ends of the couch in the family room like a couple of angry bookends.

"Dad already read us the riot act," Scot started.

"Now you're going to hear it from me," I snapped. "Do either of you realize what would've happened if anyone had gotten hurt?"

"But no one did!" Erin argued.

"That's not the point, and I wasn't finished, young lady," I replied. "Your father and I have worked our asses off for this ranch. If anyone had gotten hurt bad enough, they could've taken all this away from us. Now, all you two seem to care about are the chores and that you have food to eat and a roof over your heads. Your dad and I've had to make do with a lot less! Yeah, the radio station made it worse, but they're going to step up and do something about it. Now, it's your turn."

A cold draft ruffled my hair. I knew Wade was standing behind me, waiting to see what kind of punishment I would hand down.

"I don't care how long it takes," I continued, harshly. "But you two are going to spend every Saturday putting that pasture back to rights. You'll start by filling in the ruts, then you'll seed the entire thing by hand. After that, you'll put down straw so the seed doesn't wash off. Maybe, just maybe, after you're done putting your own sweat and blood into this ranch, you'll understand how lucky you are to have this place to call home."

There was so much more I wanted to say to them, not just about the ruined pasture, but about actually having something they could call their own. As an Immortal, I'd pulled up stakes more often than not without a backward glance. This was the first time in a very long time I actually considered myself part of a family who cared about each other, and my decision not to tell them about my life was tearing me apart. Maybe I was mad, after all, mad for thinking I could keep up this charade. Before I could say another word, I stormed out of the house to take Snowdancer down to the barn after her hard ride.

Quinnleigh Kincaid
Highlander OC
705 Words
Continued here
broadsword_babe: (Miranda (Freyja))
{Only for those who know about Quinn's Immortality}

November 13, 2007
Cripple Creek, Colorado

The decision had been made. It had been years since I’d needed to change lives, and technology had made things easier and, at the same time, much more complicated. I had done what I could on my own as far as emails, bank accounts, a new name, a new backstory, but I still needed help obtaining various documents such as birth certificates, passports, driver’s license, and other things.

I twirled the odd key between my fingers as I sat at my desk. It belonged to a storage locker at Grand Central Station in New York. I already knew what was inside: my new life. Michael had arranged for everything I needed to be put into that locker and had sent me the key, along with ID and a plane ticket for JFK under an assumed alias, one that was easily discarded.

Michael and I had agreed that I needed to disappear. He had arranged for a team to come in and ransack the house to make it look like I’d been abducted to cover up a botched robbery. That would also explain how certain things like the sword and my laptop ended up going missing. I hated seeing the house torn apart, so I just waited in the van. After, of course, sufficient evidence had been planted to make it look like I’d put up one helluva fight.

“So, you really think Hunters are back?” I couldn’t help asking one of the guys on the ride to the airport.

“That’s what Mike says,” he replied.

I couldn’t shake the feeling this was all a huge mistake. Something was going to go wrong. My intuition had always been spot on. It was part of what had kept me alive for so long, that and Brutæ who was already waiting for me in Scotland.

First came the flight from Colorado Springs to Denver. Once in Denver, I would become Quinnleigh Kincaid, who had arrived a few days before on a skiing trip. The real Quinnleigh was nothing more than a figment who only existed on paper. I would then catch a flight to LaGuardia, pick up the parcel waiting for me at Grand Central, maybe take in a few sights around town and head off to my new life in Scotland, just in time for Thanksgiving.

It felt good to be back on Scottish soil, and Brutæ was, naturally, overjoyed to see me. We stayed for a few days in a rented cottage while I looked for a suitable house. At first, I thought the cottage would be a grand fit, but after living in it for a week, it was too small. I had been accustomed to the sprawling ranch house in Colorado and was loathe to give up that space. Within a week, my new house felt like home, Quinn’s home.
broadsword_babe: (Miranda (blonde/white))
Inspired by this: Whether it's holding your own in a game of touch football...

August, 2006
Cripple Creek, Colorado

It was a perfectly beautiful early August afternoon and the four of us were playing flag football. Flag Football Fridays, as we called them, were a tradition played rain, shine or snow. The only Fridays we didn’t play football were during the high school football season. Scot was one of the star running backs with dreams of playing at CU and possibly for the Broncos.

Our Friday afternoon games were a way to settle out who did which chores during the following week. We’d rotate who played on which team. Sometimes Scot and I were a team against Wade and Erin. Other times, it was Wade and I versus the kids. This Friday, it was girls against guys.

I knew the second the football left my fingers that it was a perfect spiral. Elway couldn’t have thrown a better pass as it sailed downfield and right into Erin’s hands. Without another thought, she took off running towards the designated end zone as though the Horsemen themselves were after her. Neither Scot nor Wade could catch her.

“Run, Erin!” I cheered.

Laughing joyously, she reached the goal line, spiked the ball and did and turned around. She executed a picture-perfect “Mile High salute” just as I ran up to her. I could hear my husband and son huffing and puffing as they reached the end zone.

“Fourteen zip, Daddy!” Erin crowed.

“I guess… this means… we’re on… cleanup duty…” Wade panted.

Cleanup duty meant they boys would be up at, what Wade called, the asscrack of dawn every morning until Thanksgiving mucking out stalls and every evening doing dishes.

“That’s right!” I couldn’t resist rubbing it in a little.

“Neener, neener, neener!” Erin quipped, poking her younger brother in the stomach.

“Damn, Elaine,” Wayne laughed, as we walked arm in arm back up to the house to celebrate the championship. “How do you do it? You’re barely winded and I feel like I’ve just run a fucking marathon.”

“Maybe if you’d quit smoking,” I teased. Wade groaned.

It was a perfect Friday evening as the four of us walked into the house for a big spaghetti dinner.

Quinnleigh Kincaid
Highlander OC
358 Words
broadsword_babe: (Ellen)
{OOC: Quinn jumped ahead a bit after reading this. Other chapters will be posted as Quinn sees fit to tell me.}


{For Mun/Watcher/Immortal Knowledge Only}

September, 2007
Outside Cripple Creek, Colorado

It was time. Past time, actually. Erin and Scot were twenty and seventeen respectively and I knew they would do well in this world. Erin was just as headstrong and life savvy as I was and Scot was well on his way to being a fine man. Although they weren’t my kids, biologically anyway, I couldn’t be more proud of those two.

They had come into my life when they were five and three. Their father and I had met not long after I’d moved to Colorado. He wasn’t like any other bullrider I’d met. He didn’t ride for the bragging rights or the belt buckles. He rode to keep his two kids from going hungry. I never understood why their mama had just taken off like she had, and Wade didn’t either.

He and I had this instant connection. If I hadn’t been Immortal, I would’ve been tempted to say we’d known each other in another lifetime. He was every square inch a man, without needing to brag about it like so many did. Tough and strong, and yet the biggest goofball and sweetheart I’d ever met.

It was six months to the day after we met that we got married. It was a simple civil ceremony in Albuquerque with only a few of our rodeo friends standing witness. They’d all said that it was one of those things that was supposed to happen, and I guess they were right. Wade and I haven’t been apart since.

I’d told him about wanting to start my own stock contracting business and he was all for it. He wanted the kids to have a nice steady home instead of being dragged from one rodeo to the next. I’d fibbed about an inheritance that was barely enough to start a modest ranch just outside Cripple Creek. Wade was a hard-working, honest man who would’ve fought tooth and nail against anything he didn’t get with his own two hands, and I loved him for it. My only regret was never telling him I was Immortal.

I stood out on the back porch of the main ranch house, a cozy two-story log affair that I would hate leaving. I gingerly sipped on the steaming cup of hot coffee I held in my hand. The valley was still a “tid bit nipply” as Wade often joked. Only a few aspens had started turning their golden fall color, and the kids had only been back to school for about a month. Erin was now a junior at a local community college and Scot was just starting his senior year at the high school.

“Elaine, you alright?” Wade asked, wrapping his arms around me from behind.

I leaned back against him, loving the feel of his strong, broad shoulders against my back. I closed my eyes, never wanting to forget this feeling, but knowing that in a few weeks, I would never see him or the kids ever again. I sighed, trying like hell to control the tears that burned the back of my throat.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I replied finally. “Just with school starting and all…”

“Scot’ll be home later, probably griping like hell about his homework.”

“But still,” I said softly. “It seems like only a month ago we were teaching them to ride for the first time.”

“Don’t I know it,” Wade agreed. “Falling Water was the best horse I’d ever seen.”

That did it. Just hearing the name of that horse I’d rescued all those years ago had me bawling like crazy. I didn’t want to leave this life and my family, but I had to. It was the curse of Immortality. Too many people were just being too damned nosy.

Wade set my coffee cup down on the railing and pulled me into his arms. He was, quite possibly, the only man I’d never manipulated for one reason or another, and I didn’t want to give that up. But everything had already been arranged.

“Hell, hun, I’ve never seen you get like this ‘cept when something’s really eatin’ ya,” he said softly. Gods, how I wanted to tell him!

I quickly pulled myself together and dried my eyes on the soft flannel of his shirt. I breathed in his scent, wanting to remember the smell of pine, cinnamon and faint cigarette smoke. I gave him a weak smile.

“You’ve been smoking again,” I chided.

“Shit, El, you’re not gonna get on me for that again, are ya?”

It was an old argument, one we kept around just so we’d have something to fight about every now and again. He kept smoking, I kept after him and life was life. Gods, it was going to be hell learning to sleep alone again.


broadsword_babe: (Default)

June 2009

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