broadsword_babe (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
broadsword_babe) wrote2008-06-07 05:33 pm
broadsword_babe) wrote2008-06-07 05:33 pm
Entry tags:
Revisiting the Past [RP for neidr_melltith]
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.
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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."
no subject
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."