broadsword_babe: (Miranda (listening red))
Quinn sat at a table in the Court Restaurant overlooking the Great Court. The British Museum was a building alive with people, and with history. She'd spent nearly the entire day there, wandering from exhibit hall to exhibit hall, leaving the Roman rooms for last. She was really trying to get over her anger towards the fallen empire, but a two-thousand-year-old grudge wasn't going to go away overnight. And yet here she was, sitting at a cafe in a museum in the heart of an outpost she'd once razed to the ground waiting for a Roman. If that wasn't progress she wasn't sure what was.

She'd first heard Mark's name when they'd both been nominated for an award, something about a couple no one wanted to see together. That suited her just fine. She wasn't interested in him in the slightest. Besides, she was pretty sure the bloke was married anyway, and she wasn't one to go poaching on another's preserves. But then, about a week and a half ago, she hadn't been able to resist giving her opinion on a rather interesting hat he owned. Poor bloke actually liked the bloody thing. God bless the woman who could put up with that. Later, she'd remarked in a post of her own about trying to revise her opinions of Romans, and Mark had replied. Granted his arguments that Rome wasn't the only violent government in existence were ones she'd heard before, but when he mentioned Druids, he'd gotten her attention.

"Can I get you anything, miss?" a perfectly polished waiter asked in clipped Queen's English.

"Thank ye, no," Quinn replied in her adopted Scottish accent. "Jes waitin' on someone s'all."

"We do require that you order something while you're in the cafe," the waiter replied.

"Alrigh' fine," she said on a sigh. "Glass o'water wi' lemon."

"Sparkling or still?" the waiter asked.

Quinn gave him an even look. "Still's fine wi'me."

"Very good, miss," he replied and left.

"Bloody sassenach," she grumbled under her breath.

Quinn couldn't help fidgeting with the torc she wore around her neck. She'd worn it into battle against the Romans, and it seemed fitting she wear it now. She glanced at her watch just as the waiter set a glass of water down on the table. She had just taken a sip when movement in the Great Court caught her eye.

A dark-haired man practically marched with a single-minded purpose across the stone floor. The way he carried himself practically screamed soldier from the set of his shoulders to the even pace of his walk. This was a man who had probably spent years on the march, if not centuries. She sighed and took another sip of water. She may not like Romans as a general rule, but that didn't mean she couldn't be civil to the bloke.
broadsword_babe: (Miranda (light blue))
Based on RP here & here.

Quinn stared out at the sea from her office window. Much to her surprise, there were still a few Romans around, not just Lance. Naturally, she was still angry at him for never telling her, but she knew why he hadn't. Seemed her opinion of Rome, and Romans, was nearly legendary. She hated everything they stood for: conquering lands thatshould've been left to themselves, flogging and raping women so the men would submit, and pretty much being bullying blowards.

Mark had brought up the point that Romans weren't the only culture to use brutal methods, which was certainly true. They were simply more methodical and systematic about it. And she had employed the same systematic and methodical tactics, including crucifixion, as a way of giving them a taste of their own medicine. They truly hadn't expected the Celts, Icini, and Britons to just roll over and play nice, did they?

Even Marius had asked if she ever had a day not bemoaning the past. Two thousand years of hindsight wasn't something she could work through easily. And she did have her good days, even if she was getting to be a bit of a hermit. She'd made a few friends on the island, and now that Gav was back in Scotland, she'd be able to see him a bit more often, maybe.

Quinn knew she needed to let go of the past, her past. Natalie often chided her that she didn't know how to have fun. Naturally, she argued that playing chess was fun, as was reading and working out. Natalie had countered by asking when she had last screamed her head off at a rock concert, gone to see a movie that didn't involve subtitles, or spent a day shopping for shoes she didn't need.

Maybe having Natalie around wasn't such a bad thing. She may be able to teach her student how to survive, but her student may end up teaching her how to live.

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