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.

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[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?"