Drabbles ...

[calime]

...posted in highlander100 for the Methos lives! challenge.

Three drabbles, and in case anyone is wondering, I do not own anything from the Highlander Universe or Tolkien Estates (except in my dreams). Sorry.



Drabble # 1

In a flat in a city there lived Methos.

Not a nondescript, dirty flat, filled with trash and cockroaches, nor yet an overblown, post-interior-decorator-rampage flat with uncomfortable metal furniture: it was a Methos-flat, and that means comfort.

Methos was a very old and very wise, reasonably well-to-do immortal*. He had been many things, and lived many lives under many names for a time out of mind, even his own (or so he was wont to say).

He also used to say that he had not lived so long by worrying about anyone but himself, and people generally considered him smart.


*I suppose immortals need some description, since they tend to shy away from publicity due to their hard-to-explain traditions concerning sharp weapons. Basically, they are a bunch of die-hard maniacs who go around whacking each others’ heads off.


Drabble # 2

There is a story how Methos altogether unexpectedly found himself worrying about somebody else.

Because of an interfering watcher one morning not so long ago, when Methos was sitting in his flat listening music, the Highlander came by. The Highlander! If you’d heard only a quarter of what I have heard about him (I have only heard very little of all there is to hear), you’d be prepared for any sort of remarkable tale.

To cut a long story short, they went off, had a lot of adventures, and lived happily ever after. And the road took them home again.



Drabble # 3

Methos lives in the sweetly hurting bite of Joe’s latest song, and in the mischievousness of Amanda’s eyes.

Methos lives in the damp morning of soft rain and the multitude of grey people hurrying along the street.

Methos lives in the sunlight reflecting back from the muddy water pools, and in the sharp refreshing tang of the after-rain air.

Methos has made himself at home in his dwellings, on his various couches and beds and in his heart. It is only fair that in return all of the universe has made itself at home inside the old man, thinks Duncan.


100 words each without the footnote.

Comments

[amonitrate.livejournal.com]

mmm, loved #3.

[calime]

Thank you!