Revisiting the Past [RP for neidr_melltith]

[broadsword_babe]

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.

Comments

[neidr-melltith.livejournal.com]

Mark had left Alexa back in Spain still recuperating from her fall. He hadn't been completely sure about leaving her in such a way, and with whatever it was playing tricks on them. But once she had heard that this Quinn, another Immortal and once Boudica herself was willing to meet, she had urged him to go, telling him any that any chance of finding a clue to curing his curse -- that didn't involve Azazeal -- was worth a couple of days apart. Besides, she joked that their 'ghost' would soon get bored of haunting them.

So, he had arrived in England and taken the train straight from the airport into London and getting a cab from the station to the museum. He was dressed in his usual jeans and long-sleeved t-shirt and walked into the Great Court. His long-legged, marching stride, which often frustrated Alexa so much, carried him easily towards the café.

He spotted her sitting there, sipping at her drink and clearly watching for him. Reaching her, he drew up another chair and sat down across from her. "Interesting choice of venue. Somewhat fitting, wouldn't you say?" His gaze rested a moment on the torc before rising to meet hers with a small grin. "So, does that mean I should call you, Highness or something?"

[broadsword-babe.livejournal.com]

Quinn resisted the urge to rub her eyes in disbelief. If she didn't know any better, she could almost swear Gavin (http://im-gavin-elliot.livejournal.com/) was sitting across from her, but there was something fundamentally different between the pair. Maybe it was the look in Mark's eyes that told her he'd seen too much during his centuries.

"Awh, no, I'm not much for formality these days," she replied with a smirk. "An' I'm a bit disappointed y'didn't wear that blasted hat o'yers."

[neidr-melltith.livejournal.com]

"Good," Mark answered quite cheerfully. "Because I wouldn't have used it. As for the hat, if I were to wear it, we'd be surrounded by all these admirers, and I thought a quiet meeting was probably more in order."

When the waiter came to the table, Mark ordered a beer, and while he waited for it to be poured, he carried on with some small talk. "So, have you had much chance to look around? I heard they had some of the Vindolando (http://www.languagehat.com/archives/002099.php)tablets, which are fairly new to the collection."

[broadsword-babe.livejournal.com]

"Well, aren't you just a cheeky one then," Quinn laughed. "Aye, I've seen the lot, though I havta admit, I cannae make heads or tails of the hen scratchin. Besides, not like I have any use for Latin t'begin with."

She watched as the waiter poured Mark's drink and then ordered a nice glass of Merlot for herself.

"So, what're your interests in the tablets then?" Quinn asked after the waiter left. "Somehow I'm guessing it's not just idle curiosity."

[neidr-melltith.livejournal.com]

Mark gave a small laugh. "Penmanship wasn't a concern for most legionaries, just being able to write was something. It's a very useful language."

Once his beer was ready, Mark thanked the waiter and took a very healthy swallow of the refreshing liquid. He nodded, confirming she'd guessed right. "Well, it is curiosity. I'd like to see if any of them were mine, or soldiers that I knew." Of course, if he did find one of his, he'd have to find a way to get it as a gift for Alexa.

[broadsword-babe.livejournal.com]

Something from his past, something that he hadn't expected to ever see again... Quinn supposed that was at the heart of why she enjoyed archeology so much. Though the various sites around Britain had been ravaged by time, memories served her well.

She watched as the waiter returned with her wine.

"Guess, ye've heard about the Hadrian exhibit (http://www.britishmuseum.org/whats_on/future_exhibitions/hadrian.aspx) then," she said, nodding to one of the banners.

[neidr-melltith.livejournal.com]

He gave a small grin, looking up at the banner. "Pretty difficult to miss. Much like the Emperor himself. Maybe I'll even check it out."

His smile didn't fade, if anything it only widened. "So, are you going to attend an exhibit celebrating the life of one of the Roman oppressors?" It was said jokingly enough, but with the waiter gone, it was also a clear shift from small talk to lead into why they were both here.

[broadsword-babe.livejournal.com]

Quinn snorted indelicately. "Not bloody likely. Least he let Scotland well enough alone. Good thing neither he nor Nero are around still. I'd love a chance t'spit in their eyes."

She knew she should bury her hatred, after all it'd been far too long, but rape was an unforgivable sin to her, both physically and governmentally. She was glad she'd been well east of Europe when the Viking raids began. It still pained her to see what her former countrymen had become.

She took a sip of the deep red wine and pulled her thoughts together. Now that the pesky sassenach of a waiter had left, she could find out what Mark wanted of her. Somehow, she was thinking, it wasn't the pleasure of her company.

"So, Mark," Quinn said. "What is it that brings ye t'London then?"

[neidr-melltith.livejournal.com]

He took another swig of his beer, considering her question. "Oh, a few things." Now, he wouldn't want her thinking he had flown all the way from Spain just to see her, even though that was the truth. If she had anything that could give a clue how to overcome this curse, it would be worth it. If not, at least he had tried.

"But I wanted to talk to you about this curse your Druids put on me." He guessed that she probably wouldn't care for how he put that, but oh well. "From what you said in our chat, I take it that I was just some random soldier to try this on? Wrong place, wrong time."

[broadsword-babe.livejournal.com]

Quinn sighed, swirling the ruby liquid around the glass before taking another sip. She knew no matter what she said next, it would sound stupid, childish and petty. And no man could ever understand just what she'd gone through when it came to her First Death.

"Rape is one thing I cannae forgive," she said softly. "I was raped by six different men before one slashed my throat open for all th'world t'see. That's how I died th'first time round. The physical pain of my flogging was jes that, physical. But the emotional pain, the public humiliation, was different. Then when Taya and Ciara were raped, jes as I was, it set me off. I never found the marauders who'd killed me, but damn if I cunnae have my vengeance on Rome.

"Every Roman was my enemy," she added. "Man, woman, child, it dinnae matter. I'd had enough of their bullyin' ways. Not givin' folk the chance t'say yea or nay t'havin' Roman authority forced on them. An' havin' our ways outlawed simply because they weren't Roman. Wha' is it those sci-fi aliens were fond of sayin? 'Resistance is futile'? It may've been futile, but damn if I wasna gonna try."

Quinn took another sip of her Merlot. It wasn't easy dredging up the memories in front of a perfect stranger, and she smiled wryly at the old Latin proverb: In vino veritas.

"I dinnae tell th'Druids anything except that I wanted to make an example of someone," she added. "I dinnae care who or how. T'be perfectly honest, I dinnae think they'd curse anyone. A sacrifice to a sacred grove, maybe, but nothin' that extreme. Do ye remember anythin' of tha' night?"

[neidr-melltith.livejournal.com]

Mark listened patiently. It wasn't as if he hadn't heard the story before, although the part about her First Death was something he hadn't been aware of. Hearing it from the one who had been there and witnessed the crimes against her daughters, though, that was a little different. When he had heard of those events, he had thought those Romans had been too heavy-handed, but what did he know...just a centurion at the time.

"The thing is, I can understand your anger and grief. I can even understand why that anger would provoke you to rebel against Rome. Others did so, and often for less reason. But I get so tired of hearing how evil the Roman Empire was, crushing the rights of those who it conquered. We gave you cities, roads...baths, trade, and all you could ever moan about our bullying ways. We even let you keep your gods. Rome wasn't perfect, I admit, but I don't recalling seeing yours as a great utopia either." There was a tired bitterness in his voice. Arguments of the brutality of Roman rule, but little recognition for the good it did bring.

He sighed, collecting his thoughts before telling his own story. And after drinking down some of his beer, he started. "Oh, I remember right to the point I passed out and they gave me this." He rolled up his right sleeve, exposing 'Hadrian'. "Well, they made an example of a centurion in a lesser cohort. Some example. My century was ambushed while on patrol, all of them except for myself and my optio were killed or burned alive. We were taken to the Druids, bound and beaten. I thought we were going to be a sacrifice, especially when they killed Gaius and I would be next. But no, they saved his blood, mixed it with other things and forced me to drink it. Maybe I passed out then, I don't know, but the next thing I remember is being staked to the ground being held in front of me...and then somehow in me."

[broadsword-babe.livejournal.com]

As much as she wanted to argue that they weren't uncouth barbarians who didn't already have roads, baths and gods before the Romans, Quinn knew they'd never agree much on that point. Each side had their bad points, and good, but it was an argument that was pointless to try and win.

"Right," she said on a sigh of her own. "Guess th'best thing t'do is jes agree t'disagree about Rome. Otherwise, we'll be here until hell freezes over. Literally."

Quinn listened to Mark's story with a mix of shock and anger. The Druids had always been the clergy to her crown, and she'd never had a real say in what they did, or how they did it. And what they did to Mark and the men of his unit made her furious, mostly at herself for giving them free reign to do whatever they wanted.

When Mark showed her the tattoo, she could only stare in disbelief. The snake that curled around his arm was no ordinary ink job. The scales were almost incandescent and the beast itself seemed to flex on its own. Oh, she'd heard of this curse. This was the sum total of all Druidic wrath. Apparently, they hadn't been too fond of Romans, either, and took her at her word.

She was fairly certain her eyes flashed with anger. If those Druids weren't two thousand years dead already, she'd kill them herself. This was above and beyond what she'd had in mind, and even after all this time, she was livid with the abuse of her authority.

Quinn took a compulsive gulp of water, knowing the Merlot would only fuel her temper. She willed herself to be calm before speaking again.

"Mark, th'only thing I know of the Viper's Bane is tha' it's performed by five Druids; one each for Earth, Air, Fire, Water and Spirit," she said, her eyes still on the tattoo. "As to th'actual ritual and whatnot that goes into th'curse, I havenae clue."

[neidr-melltith.livejournal.com]

He watched Quinn carefully for her reaction. He couldn't be certain, of course, but that flash of anger seemed to be genuine as did her surprise. That, at least, satisfied him enough that he wasn't necessarily facing an enemy, even if she had been the one to give the original order.

Not that he was letting her off completely. "You should, been more careful how people interpret what you say to them." But even he saw the futility in pursuing that, it was long done. Finding how to undo it was the important thing.

"Viper's Bane?" At least he had a name for the curse now, which was more than he'd had in two thousand years. "I can only recall one, or maybe two priests, but I wasn't exactly in command of my senses." There could have easily have been others, unnoticed by him. "But that's all you know?" He rolled his sleeve back down over his arm, not completely keeping the disappoint out of his voice.

[broadsword-babe.livejournal.com]

She heard the rebuke in Mark's voice and sighed. Of course, Quinn had known that her actions had consequences, but she never thought she'd have to face that two thousand years later, give or take a few decades.

"Guess I'm the one they had in mind when they said 'hell hath no fury..'" she replied with a wry half-smile, "But think of it this way, if I hadn't done that, ye'd've never met yer wife."

She sat in silence for a few moments after that, listening to what else Mark had to say about the curse. There was one other person who might know something more about it, but she was hesitant to mention that. Quinn made a mental note to talk to him once she was back on Orkney.

"Aye," she answered. "In the old ways, it was called Neidr Melltith. Personally, that's all I know, and those buggered Druids never wrote a blessed thing down. There might be one other I can talk to, but I can't guarantee he'll know anything."

[neidr-melltith.livejournal.com]

"They were fucking well right. But isn't that always the way when some rich bitch with a bit of power wants to get some payback? The ordinary man suffers. Of course it goes the same for rich, powerful bastards too." He gave her a smile in return, mostly he was just venting. "I'm well aware of the irony of it, but if I had had the choice of never meeting her and dying a natural death, or going through all this and then meeting her, as much as it would hurt not to have known each other, she would have wanted me to die happy in my vinyards surrounded by my grandchildren."

He nodded, scratching at his stubble. "Makes sense. I know in modern Welsh, that means something along the lines of Snake Cursed." He didn't mention the hide he had found with symbols painted on that he had retrieved from his trip back in time. It was tempting to accept her offer on the spot, anything would be helpful, but he still wasn't all that trusting. So he went cautiously. "Who?"

OOC: sorry for the delay, been in a funky mood with rp.

[broadsword-babe.livejournal.com]

"And so it's said that 'power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely.' Course one doesn't necessarily have t'be rich or powerful t'change things," she said taking a sip of wine.

Quinn sat back and stared off at the crowd below the balcony, wondering what her life would've been like had those marauders never entered her village. She would've probably married Ragnar, and although she couldn't have children, much less grandchildren, they still would've had a happy life together. But, with so many others that night, he'd been slain as well.

Mark's question brought her back to the present. She didn't want to come right out and say his name. For one, Mark might not believe her. For two, she wasn't quite sure she trusted him. Three, it wasn't up to her to "out" one of her oldest friends and confidantes.

"Let's just say I've known him for a long while," Quinn finally answered.

[neidr-melltith.livejournal.com]

"No, you're right, you don't have to be rich and powerful, but it sure does help. Especially back then." His blue eyes fixed her with a stare that still didn't have all the bitterness gone. "What I'm saying is that as someone who did have power to, well, at least influence people, you should have thought a little more over specifics than just teach a lesson to some random soldier."

Mark sighed, whatever he said. And whatever she said to explain or excuse what had been done was of little use to either of them.

He gave a small laugh. "With people our age, that could mean a lot of things." She was being cagey about this contact of hers, and he could understand that, but he didn't have to like it. "Why don't you give him a call and find out if he can help?"

[broadsword-babe.livejournal.com]

Quinn gave him an even look. After all, his question sounded more like an order, and she wasn't one to take orders, especially not from Romans.

"I know it's a lot for me to expect you to trust me," she replied, draining the last of her wine. "But Mer– my source is reclusive at best. If you'd like, I can talk to him and give you a call if he tells me anything."

[neidr-melltith.livejournal.com]

"Yes," he replied, quite bluntly honest. "It is a lot to expect." Mark considered this compromise for a moment before nodding. "Okay, that'll work. This is my answering service, leave a message if you find out anything, and I'll call you back."

He wasn't prepared to give her his own number, but he passed across his business card with that one. "Just keep it to yourself, okay?"

(OOC: NP! *G*)

[broadsword-babe.livejournal.com]

"Fair enough," Quinn replied, tucking the card into her wallet.

She could understand the need to keep folks at arm's length. That was part of the reason she'd moved to Orkney in the first place. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask why he wanted to get rid of his curse, but she could understand that as well. Two thousand years was a long time to live and watch your loved ones whiter away before your eyes.

"Look, Mark, I truly am sorry I wasn't able to help more, but I've told ye all I know."

[neidr-melltith.livejournal.com]

Mark shrugged, masking any disappointment he felt. Not that he should have expected much, and admittedly, Quinn had answered a couple of questions in, at least, why the Druids had cursed him as well as the name. More than he had learned in a long time. Still, it was impossible not to feel a little disappointed to have to go back and tell Alexa this hadn't panned out. She would see the positive, he knew, so he had to try as well.

"That's okay. Fuck, it was more than I expected, really." It was a lie, but really a well-intentioned one. "Thanks."

[broadsword-babe.livejournal.com]

Quinn sat back in her chair and regarded him thoughtfully. She could see the disappointment in his eyes, and heard it in his voice.

"Y'can't have lived as long as we have withou' stackin' up a few regrets," she said finally. "And, although I don't regret standing up to Rome, I canne take back what happened to ye."

Not for the first time, she noticed the wedding band he wore. She sighed thinking of another regret: never telling her former husband who, and what, she was.

"So, this wife of yers, she know about all this?" she couldn't help asking.

[neidr-melltith.livejournal.com]

He finished the rest of his beer, staring into the empty glass, nodding as she spoke. "I know, no one can, it seems, and it's a bit late to do anything about it." He sighed.

At her question, Mark looked up a little surprised by the slight change of subject. Setting the glass back down, he rubbed his hand over his stubble. "Sure she does. It was one of the first things I told her about me, and she's the one who keeps me trying to believe that I'll find a cure."

[broadsword-babe.livejournal.com]

She nodded thoughtfully. She didn't have to tell him how rare, and special, it was to find someone like that.

"I cannae promise a cure or anythin'," she answered slowly. "Th'best I can hope for is findin' out what exactly went inta th'curse itself. Maybe knowin' that'll help figure out how t'reverse it."

Quinn toyed absently with her bottom lip as another thought occurred to her, and it wasn't a pleasant one.

"Sayin' there is a cure," she started. "There's no way t'know if time'll catch up with ye right then and there, or whether ye'll age like ye were supposed to t'begin with."

[neidr-melltith.livejournal.com]

He was quiet for some time, considering what Quinn had said. The effects of breaking the curse were something he and Alexa had discussed, and he had made her a promise.

"No, there's probably no way to now. Whatever the cure might be, I'm not going to take it until Alexa is on her deathbed. After all, what's a few more decades?" There was a slight catch in his voice, a desire to end it upon discovery, but he would keep his promise. "I'll either die with her, or if it means living out the rest of my life, I'll just kill myself."

[broadsword-babe.livejournal.com]

She couldn't quite meet his eyes. The pain in his voice was bad enough. She couldn't imagine going so far as to kill herself over someone, but then again, wasn't that what she'd done when Charles had died? She'd probably ODed a half-dozen times in those seven years. But that never brought her godson back from the dead.

"Mark, cure or no cure, I'm responsible for what happened t'ye," Quinn said softly, her eyes bright with regret. "I promise I'll do whatever I can to help ye. If nothing's found, I'll help ye end it, if that's what ye want."

[neidr-melltith.livejournal.com]

Mark was directly honest. "Yes, you are." Then he sighed, noticing the regret in her eyes. "But it's not like I can do much about it now." It was probably as close as he would come to forgiving her. Really, when he thought about it, her command to the druids was much like Henry II's misplaced words that got Becket killed. It was amusing, in a not funny way, that his fate had likewise been determined by an order being open to interpretation.

"If you mean taking my head, I don't know if that will work. I'm not like you." He held up his index and middle finger of his right hand in the manner of the 'V' sign, the British equivalent of 'flipping the bird'. "I was captured at Crécy and the French hacked these off. It was the most agonizing few weeks of my life as they grew back."

[broadsword-babe.livejournal.com]

A corner of Quinn's mouth quirked in a wry half-smile. Most modern folk probably didn't realize the actual genesis of that particular gesture. "Longbowman, were you?"

She tilted her head and thought about what he said. The visual of his body continuing to wander the ages without a head seemed morbidly humourous, but she didn't think he'd appreciate the idea.

"Still," she replied, clearing her throat. "Stands t'reason that a body cannae live without th'brain, but that's another thing I'll ask about. Providin' there's no other cure."

[neidr-melltith.livejournal.com]

He nodded, knowing that she would have got his reference. There wasn't too many around that would. "Yeah, for a while. I've been almost every type of soldier you can imagine...except for pilot. That I'll happily leave to those who enjoy fucking around off the ground." No, he was not a particularly happy flyer, even when necessary.

"Well, look at it this way. If you weren't certain that losing your head would kill you, and that if it didn't work you went through all that pain, or whatever it would be, for nothing, how would it affect you? Me...I think I'd end up insane, in the truest sense of the word."

[broadsword-babe.livejournal.com]

Quinn was silent for a long moment after that. The truth was, she wasn't quite sure what to say. There really wasn't much she could say. The curse was so old that even Merlin might not know how to undo it, but she didn't want to say anything like that to Mark, nor did she want to offer any false hope.

She looked out over the throng of people walking to and fro across the Great Court. Probably none of them were aware that she and Mark even existed, much less that they were older than anyone could imagine. Those mortals would all pretty much go on leading their lives with their families to eventually die of a heart attack or a car crash or whatever. Meanwhile, she, Mark and the others like them, would continue to live through the ages and watch their mortal friends come and go like the tide.

"Y'know, being Immortal sucks," she said to no one in particular.

[neidr-melltith.livejournal.com]

The server had brought Mark another beer, and as Quinn was people-watching, he drank deeply from the glass. He was about halfway done when she spoke, and he gave a short, bitter laugh, even if her comment was not really meant for him. "I'll drink to that!"

He followed her gaze and watched the milling people himself for a few moments. "And so many of them think that immortality would be so wonderful. If only they knew."

[broadsword-babe.livejournal.com]

"If only..." Quinn echoed absently.

She wondered how many others like them had gone mad over the years. Losing loved ones. Being doomed to eternal solitude and loneliness. Quinn felt vaguely jealous of him, at that moment. His wife, whoever she was, knew him for what he was, and loved him anyway. That was something she seriously doubted she'd ever find.

"Mark, I truly wish I had more t'give ye than th'name of an old curse and a promise t'do what I can t'find out more. But I need t'be getting back to Orkney, and I'll see what I can find from there."