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Wild Horses [for Geillis]
May. 22nd, 2016 05:39 pmMethos was a chameleon. He had lived so many lives and been so many different kinds of people. But there were always some constants. He had a certain demeanor, a sarcasm and dry wit that sometimes got him into trouble, and an interest in knowledge. But all of those things came with an open mind to those things he didn't understand. There were always new things to learn and if he'd never allowed himself to be open to change there would have been no way he'd have survived as long as he had. Five thousand years of changes made him an expert at embracing change.
The battles between the Scots and the English was nothing new. There had always been such disputes, such pointless spilling over blood for a cause that seemed very important to those fighting it on both sides. And yet Methos had seen it enough to know that he'd no plans to be involved. Freedom was a noble goal, certainly, but not something he'd any notion of risking his life for.
At least, at first. It was hard to live in the Highlands while claiming himself as a Scot and have no opinion of the English or Bonnie Prince Charlie. So it couldn't be avoided that he'd occasionally donate to the cause in secret meetings, simply to keep off the suspicious eyes of those he lived near and have them thinking that he was anything more or some kind of traitor. Fighting was hard to avoid too, even though he liked to avoid bloodshed when he could. So his current identity, Gaven MacLeod, the newly arrived blacksmith, was a mostly positive one. A skilled metal worker, good at making swords as well as wielding them. There were the rumors that came along with the name he'd decided to take, of course. There were legends of the MacLeods. Connor and Duncan, two kinsmen hundreds of years apart who'd stopped aging- sold their souls to the devil, they said. But that was part of the reason he'd chosen the name, in the hope that Duncan might come by and he might finally meet the Immortal he'd heard so much about. He could deal with the stray and mostly harmless comments here and there. He did his best to avoid suspicion. That was something he was good at, being boring and overlooked. Or so he'd been so far.
The battles between the Scots and the English was nothing new. There had always been such disputes, such pointless spilling over blood for a cause that seemed very important to those fighting it on both sides. And yet Methos had seen it enough to know that he'd no plans to be involved. Freedom was a noble goal, certainly, but not something he'd any notion of risking his life for.
At least, at first. It was hard to live in the Highlands while claiming himself as a Scot and have no opinion of the English or Bonnie Prince Charlie. So it couldn't be avoided that he'd occasionally donate to the cause in secret meetings, simply to keep off the suspicious eyes of those he lived near and have them thinking that he was anything more or some kind of traitor. Fighting was hard to avoid too, even though he liked to avoid bloodshed when he could. So his current identity, Gaven MacLeod, the newly arrived blacksmith, was a mostly positive one. A skilled metal worker, good at making swords as well as wielding them. There were the rumors that came along with the name he'd decided to take, of course. There were legends of the MacLeods. Connor and Duncan, two kinsmen hundreds of years apart who'd stopped aging- sold their souls to the devil, they said. But that was part of the reason he'd chosen the name, in the hope that Duncan might come by and he might finally meet the Immortal he'd heard so much about. He could deal with the stray and mostly harmless comments here and there. He did his best to avoid suspicion. That was something he was good at, being boring and overlooked. Or so he'd been so far.
