Having found out where Connor had taken off to, Duncan, after a quick few words to Rachel, headed out after his kinsman, following the trail into the night and, after a short while, seeing Connor finally ahead of him.
He seemed to be moving at a slow pace, in fact, and paused the moment he heard his name. Shoulders hunched in the long, battered coat, his body language was hard to read. "Hey. Thought you'd catch up." Once Duncan pulled level, he resumed his walk.
"You thought? You didn't even tell me you were leaving, Connor. You just left." Duncan followed at Connor's side for a few quiet minutes. "Where are we going?" he asked softly.
One eyebrow quirked. "Yet here we are. I hadn't gone far." It was just possible Connor had no idea how infuriating some of his typical answers could be. On the other hand, it was just the sort of thing he would have said back when they were truly teacher and student.
"Outside." He shrugged. "The trail leads to the Loch... I don't... all the paths are different, now." Unlike Duncan, who had been back here not too many years ago about a bracelet, and then a sword, Connor hadn't been back to Glenfinnan in a long time.
Duncan sighed softly and took Connor's arm as gently as he could, steering the older man off to the left. "This way," he said softly, leading him further to where they'd both come from once upon a time.
He was willing to be led, at least, matching Duncan's pace and making no comment about having his arm held like a senile old man who might wander off into trouble at any moment.
"...Whenever I come to Scotland, I go to Heather's grave. To Glencoe."
Duncan nodded slowly. "I know," he answered softly. 'There's been one or two times where I've just missed you but a few days or something because I often see the flowers you leave at her grave..."
He nodded, and eyed the trees and rocks around them, all unfamiliar. Some of those trees were younger than he was, after all. "Can we... visit her, too, while we're here? Not today, but..."
"Of course," Duncan said softly. "Whenever you're ready to do so. It's why we came here after all. Something about a birthday or anniversary wasn't it?"
"It's well past her birthday, now." He shrugged. "But... I need to see her again. She's an anchor." He looked out through the trees. "And I'm a ship lost at sea."
Duncan sighed softly. He hated when Connor used the whole ocean/water metaphors with him.
"Yer not lost," he said, his accent breaking through a little bit more. "Yer just... off course a little bit, but you'll find yer way back. Always do..."
Connor wasn't likely to stop anytime soon, being a sailor at heart.
"You know I've always hated what I am." He paused, and added slowly, "I know I tried not to talk like that, when I was teaching you, but you always seem to know even the things I don't say."
Connor rolled his eyes a little, even if it was true. "I thought we were opposites." That hardly changed the fact that Duncan could read him better than anyone else alive.
"You're better with words. And people." Connor sighed, but he seemed to be more relaxed here walking the highlands than he'd been at any stage in the trip to get there.
"Anyway, I'm not good at being an immortal. I never have been. It just..." He flailed one hand around in a useless gesture, hunting for a word. "Got to be too much."
"Connor, wait up, would you?"
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"Outside." He shrugged. "The trail leads to the Loch... I don't... all the paths are different, now." Unlike Duncan, who had been back here not too many years ago about a bracelet, and then a sword, Connor hadn't been back to Glenfinnan in a long time.
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"...Whenever I come to Scotland, I go to Heather's grave. To Glencoe."
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"Yer not lost," he said, his accent breaking through a little bit more. "Yer just... off course a little bit, but you'll find yer way back. Always do..."
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"You know I've always hated what I am." He paused, and added slowly, "I know I tried not to talk like that, when I was teaching you, but you always seem to know even the things I don't say."
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"Anyway, I'm not good at being an immortal. I never have been. It just..." He flailed one hand around in a useless gesture, hunting for a word. "Got to be too much."
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