Oct. 28th, 2009

foreverwarrior: (Miranda (looking down/soft smile))
 The gray stone house had been built in 1853, and whoever RB & NH were, they had started their lives together that year in that house. That had been one of the smaller details Quinn had come to love about the old farmhouse. She had truly thought it too big for just her, but the semi-seclusion of the property, as well as being right on the sea, was ideal. There weren't any neighbors who would question her about any odd goings on, such as unexpected guests, freak lightning storms, and burned patches of lawn. Oh, she could toss any previous opponents into the sea, but didn't think the seals would much care for her polluting their fishing grounds. Besides, if the body resurfaced later, there would always be questions.

The kitchen was one of her favourite rooms, besides the study and conservatory. The traditional stove was the heart of the house, and for someone who loved to cook, it was perfect. Even though she may not have anyone to cook for, Quinn still enjoyed puttering around the kitchen making all kinds of homemade treats from fudge to pies to hearty stews.

One of the garages she had turned into a gym/dojo. Quinn didn't see the need for lots of fancy equipment when free weights, still rings, a ballet bar, and a couple of punching bags were really all she needed. She'd renovated another part of the garage into an equipment room complete with swords, bows, staves, throwing knives, but no guns. They were messy, noisy and too easy to use. Though, there were times when she would set up straw targets for archery and crossbow practice.

With six bedrooms and four bathrooms, Quinn had plenty of room for guests, of the invited variety. She knew Orkney was pretty far off the beaten path for most, but Kirkwall boasted flights to and from the Island daily. She also had to admit, the ferry ride from Stromness to Thurso was an adventure amongst itself, and though she didn't mind flying, the sea would always be home to a Norsewoman.

There were also a few details Quinn added herself, such as a wooden plaque carved with the saying "Ceud mìle fàilte" hanging just over the front door. In Scottish Gaelic, the sign translated to "a hundred thousand welcomes." Hanging over the mantle in her study was Bragloré, ready for battle at a moment's notice. She'd also had an endless hot tub delivered and set up in a secluded area of the back garden. It was perfect for both training and relaxing, and definitely one of her favourite purchases for the property.

In the short time since she'd moved in just before December, Quinn had come to love the house. Perhaps, in time, she might buy back some of the original 880 acres and possibly raise and breed horses. Or, at least, keep a few to ride herself.

Quinnleigh Kincaid
485 Words
Guests & comments welcome
foreverwarrior: (Miranda (eyebrow))
Surprise! Your mother/a priest/an arch nemesis/the tax man/dinosaurs/your ex/a famous talk show host is at the door -- and at a most inopportune moment! Now what?!

It wasn't often that I indulged in making a batch of fudge, but it was definitely one of those days when I needed a bit of chocolate. Luckily, I already had everything on hand and wouldn't need to go to the market for anything. So, into the pot on the stove went the sugar, chocolate, condensed milk, and other ingredients. Now, anyone who knows me, knows that I'm a right grouch when I'm cooking. I can be a bit of a perfectionist about food, as with a lot of other things, and I don't tolerate interruptions very well. And, wouldn't you know, that's exactly what happened.

Quinnleigh Kincaid
Highlander OC
1530 Words
Natalie, [personal profile] jurisimmortalis, & Lance, [personal profile] her_champion, are Quinn's headmates.
foreverwarrior: (Miranda (listening red))
 Natalie didn't think Immortals could get sore, but she was wrong, again. Quinn was a hard teacher and definitely subscribed to the schools of hard-knocks and tough-love respectively. If she'd expected to be "mollycoddled" as Quinn put it, she'd have to find another teacher. Their lessons weren't always about fighting though. Natalie had learned how to change her appearance by using makeup, contacts, wigs and clothing. She'd been surprised when her eighteen-year-old self had stared back at her from the mirror. An hour later, she looked nearly sixty.

"So, why didn't you and Lance ever get together?" Natalie asked over tea one afternoon. "You know he's crazy about you."

"I don't see how that's any of your business," Quinn replied tartly.

Natalie sensed the other Immortal was still a little upset that her old protector had shown up, unannounced, and expected her to teach her without asking about it first. Natalie felt like a child all over again, not really given a choice as to what she wanted, just handed a life she didn't ask for. It didn't really surprise her when, after three days of seemingly endless fighting, Lance just tossed up his hands in the air and left, without Natalie.

"I'm plenty pissed at him, myself," Natalie replied, as though she didn't hear. "He knew I was a pre-Immortal, but never said a word, and then he just dumps me on your doorstep without even saying 'good-bye'."

Quinn harrumphed. "That's a Roman for you."

Natalie thought back to a conversation she'd had with Lance the day after her First Death. "Yeah, he mentioned something about Boudica. What's that about?"

Quinn looked at her over the brim of her teacup. "What did he say?"

"Nothing, only to ask you about it."

Quinn sighed and set down her cup. "I had met Prasutagus shortly before the birth of his second daughter. I had taken on an identity of a wise woman, a healer and midwife, and everyone knew that his wife's pregnancy was extremely high risk. What surprised everyone was how much we looked alike. We both had the same red hair, the same build. When her time came, it was all I could do to save the babe. She suffered what we now knows as a hemorrhage. In his grief, Prasutagus started calling me 'Boudica,' and I didn't have the heart to convince him otherwise. So, I naturally assumed the role of wife and mother. Taya and Ciara became my daughters. I watched them grow, taught them as my own.

"Shortly after Ciara was born, Claudius negotiated a peace treaty between the Icini and the Romans," she continued. "The basic terms were that when and if Prasutagus died, his lands would fall to Taya and Ciara with an agreement of alliance to Rome. Prasutagus lived for another fourteen years before closing his eyes for the last time. Nero was on the throne then and didn't believe that women had any right to property, and so Taya's and Ciara's claims were null and void.

"I was livid, to say the least," she added. "Who were these intruders, these bullying blowhards, to say what my daughters could and could not inherit? During the fourteen years Rome had occupied Icini lands, they had turned our sacred sites into temples to their own gods and goddesses. They completely disregarded everything we held dear, and to say Taya and Ciara were little more than chattel added insult to injury. Naturally, I argued their case in front of Governor Gaius Suetonius Paulinus."

Natalie could tell that there was some deep-seated anger, and that even after all these centuries, Quinn was still angry about the injustices.

"What happened?" Natalie asked, curiously.

Hatred glittered deep in Quinn's eyes, and Natalie suppressed a flinch. "I was stripped to the waist and flogged. Publicly. So badly I nearly passed out. And though I may not be Christian, I can certainly sympathize with what He went through."

Natalie was dumbfounded. "Flogged? Like with a belt?"

"No," Quinn answered shortly. "You know what a cat-o-nine-tails is?" Natalie nodded. "Imagine something like that only with weights attached every six inches or so."

"But what about your Immortality?" Natalie couldn't help asking. "Wouldn't they notice the wounds healing quickly?"

"I was still young then," Quinn answered. "Less than a hundred years old. It probably took a week or so before I was back to normal."

"A week? But I was only out for sixteen hours when I died."

"First Deaths are unique that way. No one knows why." Quinn took a sip of tea before continuing. "At any rate, the flogging had the opposite effect that the Roman's had planned for. Instead of taming the shrew, it actually infuriated the Icini. That someone would do that to their queen had many talking about revolt. To try and quell those ideas, the Romans raped my daughters thinking that by deflowering them, it would make them less attractive as women. Taya was sixteen and Ciara was fourteen."

Natalie couldn't help but think of little Sarah Knightly who had been raped repeatedly, nearly daily, for two years, and she wasn't even ten yet. It was enough to make her sick. "Was Lance...?"

"No, he wasn't one of the men," Quinn answered. "If he had been, you can bet I would've taken his head a long time ago. As it was, I ordered one of our Druids to make an example of someone. I didn't care who, or how, but someone, anyone, needed to pay."

Again, Natalie thought of Steve Johnson who was pushing up daisies as they spoke. She doubted she would ever see the man as anything more than a depraved child molester. In a way, she could understand Quinn's issue with Rome, even after all this time. But Natalie could tell there was more to the story. Quinn shook her head.

"No, that's not all," she answered. "Three settlements and seventy-five thousand people later, I finally met my Thermopylae."

"Don't you mean Waterloo?"

Quinn shook her head again. "Thermopylae is more apt. Waterloo hadn't happened yet, and the Roman forces only numbered around four hundred where I commanded nearly two hundred, thirty-five thousand angry Britons. The Roman's chose the battlefield well. Trees prevented us from flanking them, and the low hills served as a bottleneck. They might've had the smaller force, but they were better trained and better armed. Had I won the battle, Nero would've pulled his forces from Briton altogether, but as it was, I failed."

Natalie nodded as she took a sip of tea. "Then, to your surprise, Lance shows up centuries later as one of Arthur's best friends."

"I didn't know he was Roman then," Quinn said defensively. "He and I never met before Camelot. He never told me about his upbringing until we crossed paths again during the Middle Ages."

"Is that why you won't give him a chance?" Natalie asked, trying to be tactful. "He couldn't exactly help being Roman, you know."

Quinn sighed and sipped on her own tea. "The thing of it is, he was never man enough for me."

Natalie nearly choked on her biscuit. She remembered Lance's towering, brawny physique well. Quinn gave her a stern glare.

"I don't mean physically," she retorted. "To Lance I'm always going to be his Queen and he's always going to be a subject. He'll fight for my honour, but will never fight me as a person. Until he does, until he stands up to me, I don't see it going anywhere."

It made a strange sort of sense. Throughout most of his life, Lance had identified with the motto "to serve and protect." The man practically had it tattooed to his forehead. When Natalie had gone her own way during their investigation, didn't listen to him, and got killed in the process, it pissed him off but good. Because he couldn't protect her. Because she wouldn't let him. Even though Natalie had never been anyone's subject, she knew enough that one, except maybe a king, never, ever, negated a queen, and to use an obviously-popular quote, "not nobody, not nohow."

"And that three-day-fight?" Natalie argued.

"He was definitely going the right way," Quinn admitted. "But he still left. Now, if we're done talking about my love life, we'd best get back to your training."
foreverwarrior: (Miranda (eyebrow))
There were few other runners in Riverside Park that time of morning. Dawn was barely breaking as the two women jogged alongside the Hudson.

"So, what's the deal with these Watchers anyway?" Natalie asked.

"Oh, they're a bit of a secret society," Quinn answered. "Been around since Methuselah or some such."

"And they're just supposed to watch us?"

"Watch but not interfere."

"Okay, obvious question. Who's watching the Watchers?"

"What d'yeh mean?"

"I mean, who's watching them? Who's making sure they just watch?" Natalie responded.

Quinn thought for a moment as they continued to jog. Granted, she hadn't been caught up in all the hullabaloo that Horton stirred up, and was glad that whole thing hadn't boiled over.

"Alright, I'll give y'that one, but I'll go you one better," she replied. "Who's making sure that the FBI, CIA and that lot aren't doing more than they should?"

"There are Senate Oversight Committees, the President is briefed every morning," Natalie answered.

"Alright, so who's watching them?" Quinn countered. "Who's making sure they don't step outta line?"

"The media, mostly," she replied. "Any time some politician forgets to cross a 't,' it's all over the news."

"And then that gets flogged t'death before we hear th'end of it," Quinn groaned. "Y'know, this instant communications shite isn't all it's cracked up t'be. Folks need t'learn t'think for themselves. One of th'main arguments Martin Luther had against th'Church."

"So, you're compairing the media to the Catholic Church?"

"In a way, yeah," Quinn answered. "Think about it. Th'Church, back in th'day, was th'main source of information. If they said th'world was flat, then it was. If they th'earth was th'center of th'universe, no one argued. Well, except for a few brave souls."

"Remind me again, how'd we get from the Watchers to the Church?"

"Think about it, lass," Quinn answered. "Th'same folks who hold th'media, th'Church and th'government in check are th'same folks who watch th'Watchers."

"Oh, yeah, who's that?"

"Th'one or two who have enough backbone t'stand up t'them."

Quinnleigh Kincaid
Highlander OC
365 Words
Prompt: [livejournal.com profile] theatrical_muse "273 - "Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?" (Who watches the watchmen Watchers?)
Natalie is [livejournal.com profile] jurisimmortalis & Quinn's headmate.
foreverwarrior: (Miranda (b/w sword))
Things remained strained between Natalie and Quinn ever since Nat had talked to her Teacher about meeting two other Immortals. Both had called Nat's Training into question and one had even remarked that Teachers often took their own Student's heads. Needless to say, Quinn hadn't been very fond of that remark.

Both women remained silent as they ran along a path in Central Park. It was the day before Thanksgiving and the Park was pretty much deserted. People were either traveling or taking the day off. The early morning air was fresh, crisp and tinged with the sharp scent of fallen leaves. Deep shadows still clung to the trees, and Natalie almost missed the figure standing perfectly still in the middle of the trail nearly thirty feet away.

Read more... )

Quinnleigh Kincaid
Highlander/Immortal OC
1830 Words
Natalie is [livejournal.com profile] jurisimmortalis & mine to use.
Connor is [livejournal.com profile] immortal_connor & written by his scribe.


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