broadsword_babe

France in the spring was a sight to behold. The sky was a bright, clear blue with patches of cottony-white clouds. The chartered over-night flight over from New York had gone off without a hitch, and a little red rental waited for them outside the gate. Quinn hadn't been able to resist getting a convertible. The countryside, and the weather, was just too nice.

It amazed her how little this part of the country had changed. Vineyards still covered the rolling hills, modest châteaus dotted the valleys, and flowers sprang up next to the roadway. She was so enthralled by the scenery, she almost missed the turn-off for her estate.

Weeks ago, she had made a few calls to keep up the pretence she had inherited the place from a deceased great-aunt, and wanted to arrange a visit to go over the property. All the appropriate paperwork had been filed through various lawyers with the key being FedExed to Methos' flat just in time for their trip.

Gravel crunched as she downshifted to turn on to the drive up to the main house. From the sound of if, the place might need a bit of fixing up, but it wasn't a falling-down ruin. In a pasture off to one side of the driveway, she spotted a few horses and smiled to herself, tempted to make a quip about Methos' angry adolescence. But it would've fallen on deaf ears since he was fast asleep in the passenger seat, or maybe he was just faking it.

Just ahead, she could see the house, and breathed a sigh of relief. Someone had been kind enough to tend the gardens and shrubbery surrounding the two-and-a-half story building. It looked to be in decent shape, only needing a fresh coat of paint and perhaps a new roof. She knew, from personal experience, that it already had the requisite plumbing and electricity needed in these modern times, but she wasn't sure what state the interior was in.

"Oi, sleepyhead!" she said, lightly punching his arm. "C'mon, nearly there."

1. Think of the first word that comes to mind when you think of me.
2. Go to http://images.google.com and search for that word.
3. Reply to this post with one of the pictures on the first page of results -- don't tell me the word.
4. Put this in your own blog so that I can do the same.

Take a picture of yourself right now.
Don't change your clothes, don't fix your hair...just take a picture.
Post that picture with NO editing.
Post these instructions with your picture.

Alright, I have no idea what folks' fascination is wi'this, but alright.

( me, first thing in th'mornin' )

{Part 1, Part 2}

Quinn sighed and took a sip of her own pint.

"It's just that I was thinking about what you said last night, about being more than friends..."

Backdated to July, 14th.

They both knew this day was coming, and as much as she liked having Adam around, he had his own life, and she had hers. It was a fact of Immortality, especially with them. Their lives had always come between them and whatever it was they had. 

Quinn watched as he tossed his bag in the back of the rental. She'd usually been the first one to leave whether she was traveling with a band of gypsies or fleeing Paris with Charles. Now it was his turn.

"You know if I didn't have somewhere to be, I'd stay," he said, walking back to where she stood in the doorway. He'd never said where that was, and she hadn't asked.

"I know," she said on a sigh. "It's just I hate saying goodbye."

Adam gently ran a thumb down her cheek, his dark hazel eyes soft and warm. There was so much she wanted to say to him, but it all boiled down to three simple words. She supposed they were the hardest syllables to say in any language.

"Do you regret what happened?" he asked quietly.

Quinn shook her head. "No, of course not."

"Good," he replied with his trademark impish smirk. "Because I wouldn't let you."

He leaned down and gently kissed her. Although it wasn't the most passionate kiss they'd shared, the warrior in her didn't want to admit any weaknesses, but the woman in her was distinctly light-headed.

"I'll see you again before you know it," Adam said huskily, resting his forehead against hers. "This, whatever it is, isn't going away any time soon. Besides, you didn't think you'd get rid of me that easily, did you?"

Quinn chuckled. "Oh, go on before you miss your flight."

He smiled, took a step back, and tweaked the tip her nose between the knuckles of his index and middle fingers.

"Alright," he smirked. "Y'know, if you ever felt like visiting New York..."

She nodded as he walked back over to the car and opened the door.

"Just let me know you got there alright?" she called out. "Phone, email, whatever. I don't care what time it is."

Adam nodded, and she thought he was going to say something more, but he only lifted his hand in a half-wave and climbed behind the wheel. Quinn waved in return. Tires crunched on the drive as he drove towards the main road. She lifted her hand once more before going back inside.


iris_angel used with permission

{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 stared at the announcement in disbelief.

... The red carpet will lead everyone straight into the Coliseum of Rome...

The Tammys were going to be presented in Rome? Of all the places they could've picked! Province? Beautiful. Venice? She'd been there before, for Arthur's sake. But Rome? The very heart of the Empire she hated? Six months ago, she would've said "no way in hell!" But now... She'd already bought the dress, and had made plans to go with Adam. She had to admit, albeit very grudgingly, that the few conversations she'd had with Marius, Mark & Lance had her reforming her opinions of Romans in general. She still wasn't much for the chickenshit Cæsars, like Nero, who never took to the front lines with the troops they condemned to die.

Pride stiffened her spine. Oh, she'd go to Rome alright, and dance on Nero's grave while she was there.