Morning!Quinn
28 Jul 2008 05:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
broadsword_babe{Set the morning after Bedtime!Quinn}
Quinn was a morning person. Always had been and probably always would be, and there was just some part of her brain that wouldn't let her sleep past six o'clock no matter how late she'd been up the night before.
She dressed quickly in her usual jogging things: t-shirt, football shorts, trainers, and started her morning run. She wanted to get a good mile under her before Adam woke up. It wasn't that she was running from him, it was just that last night had given her a lot to think about, and running always helped her think through things. She'd always known that there was a certain chemistry between them, but because of Cassandra and her respect for her First Teacher, Quinn had never let things go any farther than friends.
Quinn was a morning person. Always had been and probably always would be, and there was just some part of her brain that wouldn't let her sleep past six o'clock no matter how late she'd been up the night before.
She dressed quickly in her usual jogging things: t-shirt, football shorts, trainers, and started her morning run. She wanted to get a good mile under her before Adam woke up. It wasn't that she was running from him, it was just that last night had given her a lot to think about, and running always helped her think through things. She'd always known that there was a certain chemistry between them, but because of Cassandra and her respect for her First Teacher, Quinn had never let things go any farther than friends.
You can't keep fighting her battles for her, she remembered Adam telling her once, or twice, alright, fine, more than that.
Quinn easily hit her stride and with Brutæ acting as her scout, she was free to let her mind wander where it would. But it was focused on two things: Rome and Adam.
A few months ago, she'd started rethinking her old hatred of the long-since-fallen Empire. It really wasn't doing anyone a damned bit of good clinging onto that as she had. Some had even pointed out that a few of her favourite places had once been under Roman rule: Paris, Provence, Austria. Up until last week, Venice was as close to the ancient capital as she had let herself travel. Even then, it was to keep her promise about finding the Grail for Arthur and not so much about her old prejudices. Just last week, she had finally visited Rome, rather than break her date with Adam. That was certainly progress, wasn't it?
Along with her hatred of Rome, she'd started rethinking everything else she'd clung to these past two thousand years. And that included Methos. In all honesty, she cringed about calling him that. Methos had been the persona he'd used as a Horseman when he'd kept Cassandra as a slave. Now, he went by the name Adam Pierson.
Quinn remembered how she'd tried to take his head the first time they'd met. Her ears were still full of the warnings and stories Cassandra had told about the Four Horsemen: Kronos (War), Methos (Death), Caspian (Plague), and Silas (Pestilence). And Quinn had thrown it in his face. To her shame, he'd bested her, but hadn't taken her head.
She told herself it was because she needed to be taught a lesson, and so that he would always have something to hold over her. Quinn knew both were true, to a point, but there was also a deeper reason: he liked her. Even then, when they were both hacking at each other for all they were worth, there was a mutual respect and certain admiration between them.
They'd crossed paths a half-dozen times since then. Sometimes crossing blades. Sometimes matching wits. She had to admit, she'd rather do battle with her mind than with her sword. Each time they met, he was a little bit different, a little bit better. She'd always been able to able to tell when someone was lying, or at least pretending to be honest.
With Adam, the truth was in his eyes. Whenever he was trying to be something he was not, the hint of mischief that seemed so close to the surface, disappeared. But whenever he was truly himself, there was laughter in his eyes as though he were playing some great prank that the rest of the world knew nothing about.
Her feet crunched wetly on the damp asphalt road as the morning mist swirled around her. She loved this time of day when the world showed so much promise, when it had all but forgotten yesterday and tomorrow had yet to happen. Up ahead, she heard canine panting and soon came upon Brutæ laying lazily by the side of the road. He'd had enough and was ready to turn back.
Adam had certainly surprised her when he'd asked her to the awards in Rome. She'd seriously thought he'd never ask, but was secretly glad he had. They really hadn't had a chance to sit down and talk for nearly two centuries. And, just like in those days, she'd found herself flirting with him with surprising ease. Then, when he'd told her that he'd found someone new, she couldn't help feel a bit disappointed and vaguely jealous, and she tried to tell herself that it was for the best. She was still Cassandra's student, after all, and he had once been her captor. It just didn't make for a good relationship.
But when he'd showed up on her doorstep last night, he'd surprised her yet again. Not only by finding her, which went a long way (and, to her, saying she was worth finding), but by also telling her that he didn't want to be just friends anymore. Quinn supposed it was past time they set aside old differences, or at least, for her to stop carrying someone else's baggage.
Truth of it was, she was tired of lying. She was tired of lying about everything: her name, her age, her abilities, her past, and her feelings about him. He was probably the last man on Earth who could ever possibly understand the weight of carrying around the responsibility for the deaths of over a hundred thousand souls.
That thought brought her up short, and as her mind continued to click along that path, so many other things fell into place: they'd lived through a lot of the same history, maybe not together, but still; they'd both done what was needed to survive (lied, killed, you name it); and there was not a damned thing she'd ever have to explain to him, because he'd lived through it already. He already knew who she'd been, what she'd done, where she'd been. Ironically enough, he was exactly the bloke she was hoping to find.
"Careful whatcha wish for, y'might just get it," she muttered to herself with a rueful shake of her head, and continued the jog back to the house.
The guest room was quiet when she tiptoed past, and she assumed Adam was still asleep. Quinn quickly showered and changed into jeans and long-sleeved polo before braiding her long hair. She was absently stirring a cup of coffee when she felt him standing behind her. Quinn turned to find him standing in the doorway of the kitchen, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, and an impish smirk.
"Just made a fresh pot, if that's what you're after," she said pointing to the coffee pot.
Quinn easily hit her stride and with Brutæ acting as her scout, she was free to let her mind wander where it would. But it was focused on two things: Rome and Adam.
A few months ago, she'd started rethinking her old hatred of the long-since-fallen Empire. It really wasn't doing anyone a damned bit of good clinging onto that as she had. Some had even pointed out that a few of her favourite places had once been under Roman rule: Paris, Provence, Austria. Up until last week, Venice was as close to the ancient capital as she had let herself travel. Even then, it was to keep her promise about finding the Grail for Arthur and not so much about her old prejudices. Just last week, she had finally visited Rome, rather than break her date with Adam. That was certainly progress, wasn't it?
Along with her hatred of Rome, she'd started rethinking everything else she'd clung to these past two thousand years. And that included Methos. In all honesty, she cringed about calling him that. Methos had been the persona he'd used as a Horseman when he'd kept Cassandra as a slave. Now, he went by the name Adam Pierson.
Quinn remembered how she'd tried to take his head the first time they'd met. Her ears were still full of the warnings and stories Cassandra had told about the Four Horsemen: Kronos (War), Methos (Death), Caspian (Plague), and Silas (Pestilence). And Quinn had thrown it in his face. To her shame, he'd bested her, but hadn't taken her head.
She told herself it was because she needed to be taught a lesson, and so that he would always have something to hold over her. Quinn knew both were true, to a point, but there was also a deeper reason: he liked her. Even then, when they were both hacking at each other for all they were worth, there was a mutual respect and certain admiration between them.
They'd crossed paths a half-dozen times since then. Sometimes crossing blades. Sometimes matching wits. She had to admit, she'd rather do battle with her mind than with her sword. Each time they met, he was a little bit different, a little bit better. She'd always been able to able to tell when someone was lying, or at least pretending to be honest.
With Adam, the truth was in his eyes. Whenever he was trying to be something he was not, the hint of mischief that seemed so close to the surface, disappeared. But whenever he was truly himself, there was laughter in his eyes as though he were playing some great prank that the rest of the world knew nothing about.
Her feet crunched wetly on the damp asphalt road as the morning mist swirled around her. She loved this time of day when the world showed so much promise, when it had all but forgotten yesterday and tomorrow had yet to happen. Up ahead, she heard canine panting and soon came upon Brutæ laying lazily by the side of the road. He'd had enough and was ready to turn back.
Adam had certainly surprised her when he'd asked her to the awards in Rome. She'd seriously thought he'd never ask, but was secretly glad he had. They really hadn't had a chance to sit down and talk for nearly two centuries. And, just like in those days, she'd found herself flirting with him with surprising ease. Then, when he'd told her that he'd found someone new, she couldn't help feel a bit disappointed and vaguely jealous, and she tried to tell herself that it was for the best. She was still Cassandra's student, after all, and he had once been her captor. It just didn't make for a good relationship.
But when he'd showed up on her doorstep last night, he'd surprised her yet again. Not only by finding her, which went a long way (and, to her, saying she was worth finding), but by also telling her that he didn't want to be just friends anymore. Quinn supposed it was past time they set aside old differences, or at least, for her to stop carrying someone else's baggage.
Truth of it was, she was tired of lying. She was tired of lying about everything: her name, her age, her abilities, her past, and her feelings about him. He was probably the last man on Earth who could ever possibly understand the weight of carrying around the responsibility for the deaths of over a hundred thousand souls.
That thought brought her up short, and as her mind continued to click along that path, so many other things fell into place: they'd lived through a lot of the same history, maybe not together, but still; they'd both done what was needed to survive (lied, killed, you name it); and there was not a damned thing she'd ever have to explain to him, because he'd lived through it already. He already knew who she'd been, what she'd done, where she'd been. Ironically enough, he was exactly the bloke she was hoping to find.
"Careful whatcha wish for, y'might just get it," she muttered to herself with a rueful shake of her head, and continued the jog back to the house.
The guest room was quiet when she tiptoed past, and she assumed Adam was still asleep. Quinn quickly showered and changed into jeans and long-sleeved polo before braiding her long hair. She was absently stirring a cup of coffee when she felt him standing behind her. Quinn turned to find him standing in the doorway of the kitchen, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, and an impish smirk.
"Just made a fresh pot, if that's what you're after," she said pointing to the coffee pot.
