broadsword_babe: (Miranda (Quinn & Methos love))
Light slowly creeps back into the world of iron and glass outside your windows. The City That Never Sleeps has started another day. Your bed is warm and comfortable, and you can remember a time when it wasn't always so. You've slept in furs on cold, hard ground. You've slept in castles. You've slept in cottages. In tents. Under the stars. Rickety brass beds. Wagons. Horse-hair mattresses. Space-age foam.

A strong arm wraps around your waist. Lips lightly kiss your bare shoulder. You shift your weight, cuddling your back against him. It wasn't so very long ago that you slept alone. It isn't something you'll admit aloud, but you hate sleeping alone.

Your fingers trace the outline of the muscles in his arm. You can almost hear him smile as he buries his face in your tangled red hair. You never thought either of you would ever be this happy, this content. Your fingers curl through his, bringing him closer. You can't imagine your life without him, and every time you try, tears burn your eyes.

"Penny for your thoughts?" he asks sleepily.

You love his voice, the slight hint of mischief and humor that's almost always present. You remember him when he wasn't always like that. You're glad he's changed.

"Yer on my side of th'bed," you reply.

You're not angry about it, but it's just one of those comfortable arguments that you keep around because it's fun to fight with him. Odd as that may sound, it works.

"You'll live," he answers.

Again, his voice is filled with cheeky mischief, and you get the feeling that this, now, right this moment, this is who he has always been. It's a shame not many have realized that.


Quinnleigh Kincaid
Highlander OC
283 Words
Prompts:
[livejournal.com profile] charloft Thurs. 9th April Epiphany
[livejournal.com profile] justprompts It's six am. What are you doing?
[livejournal.com profile] just_muse_me #17.9.4 Spooning
broadsword_babe: (Miranda (b/w tear))
If blood will flow when flesh and steel are one
Drying in the colour of the evening sun
Tomorrow's rain will wash the stains away
But something in our minds will always stay
Perhaps this final act was meant
To clinch a lifetime's argument
That nothing comes from violence and nothing ever could
For all those born beneath an angry star
Lest we forget how fragile we are


She runs towards the sound of swords shrieking in the night, but can't seem to find them. She can feel the duel raging in her blood. She knows that someone will die tonight. Her stomach clenches thinking the worst.

She rounds the side of the warehouse, and the movement is just enough to distract one of the combatants. She watches, horrified, as a blade arcs toward the distracted Immortal's neck. She screams in warning, but it's too late.

"ADAM!!" she yells, hoping her eyes are wrong.

She doesn't remember running, but all of a sudden, she feels his still-warm, yet lifeless body in her arms. The other Immortal laughs as lightning fills the air. She grabs the sword from her love's hand and swings. The dark, hideous laughter is cut short as another body falls to the ground with a thud.

The Quickening is the worst she's ever had. She tries to cling to Adam's memories but five thousand years' worth of experiences leaves her gasping for breath. Tears are streaming down her face as the last current of electricity flickers and fades.

Months go by. She hasn't left his flat. Friends have called, all worried about her, but she doesn't call them back. She can't face them. She can't imagine knowing he isn't out there for her to find anymore.

She looks down at the platinum-and-diamond ring. They had promised to always find each other. Now he's gone. He'll never pitch up at some odd moment. They'll never cross paths again. She'll never see that cheeky-assed smirk anymore. Her life is empty, meaningless.

A year goes by, two. She's on a different continent surrounded by sand and dust. Memories that aren't hers flicker through her mind, showing her what the land had looked like eons ago: the great delta and the city that had been swallowed by the sea. But it isn't good enough. She doesn't want his memories. She wants him.

She has wandered the Earth these past ten years. His memories have taken her to places she had never been. She often finds herself having conversations with someone that isn't there. She knows people look at her oddly, but doesn't care. They say she's gone mad, and perhaps that's true.

The house is cold, empty, when she returns. The dented fridge stands testament to their passion. Though she had planned on the house being hers, she can still feel him there. The island had been her sanctuary once, and would be again.

She stares down at the granite marker, weathered by time. It has been nearly a century since it was carved with his last alias. It has taken her this long to return to the city she so hates. It's still as busy and noisy as ever, and the crush of people makes her long for the quiet solitude of her island.

The platinum ring still adorns her finger. Only the wear and tear of the metal is testament to that long-ago promise. His memories still linger within her, but they are never enough.

She doesn't know she's kneeling until she feels the grass under her. She doesn't know she's crying until her cheeks are wet with tears. She doesn't know she's dreaming, until she opens her eyes...


Quinnleigh Kincaid
Highlander OC
536 Words (not incl. lyrics)
Prompt 1: [livejournal.com profile] theatrical_muse #265 "What did you dream last night?"
Prompt 2: [livejournal.com profile] theatrical_muse #268: "The End"
Prompt 3: [livejournal.com profile] just_muse_me #14.2.5 "What is one thing in your life that would completely shatter you if you lost?"
Based on RP with [livejournal.com profile] iris_angel
Author's Notes

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broadsword_babe

June 2009

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