play for reallyoldguy
Paris was testing her patience again. After seven years of rejection, one might expect for her to learn better by now. Seven years was nothing in comparision to the hundreds of years when they had been close friends.
He made it clear from the start that any action she did would not make up for her betrayal. How could that be? Her intent for lying had not been for self-gain, but to keep his feelings.
Liam Riley had to be one of those bloody boyscouts who believed a promise meant its weight in gold. And to a man who still held to his religious beliefs as strongly as he had even before his first death, a promise to God meant something greater.
Perhaps she should have told him sometime over the next two hundred years. But exactly how did one go about that? He had made his choice and had taken the vow. In actuality, he made a very good priest. It suited him better than she had ever thought it would.
She had believed that his feelings regarding his calling would somehow undo her wrong toward him. He seemed filled with a joy and a sense of calm which she had never seen in him before. He had his place in the world, finally, after centuries of looking.
All of that somehow crumbled away when he learned the truth. Now he was that vulnerable, uncertain Liam she had met soon after his first death. And God was it annoying. There was no one who knew how to wallow as much as him.
So she left him to it and departed Paris. She would make it back to Detronto in a couple of weeks, but not before a stop over for an undetermined amount of time in Boston.
It wasn't her favorite city in the new world, but it definitely had its advantages, such as currently being the resident city for some of her favorite Immortals.
There was one in particular who she owed a visit more than any other. She had been a terrible friend with only giving him a letter or a phone call here or there for the last couple of months. At least she knew he wouldn't mind as he had his hands full at the moment. He was a newlywed, after all. Interesting circumstances that pushed that marriage into existance. She was sure those circumstances floored her friend more than he wanted to let on.
But marriages and magical bonds were not of her concern at the moment.
With nothing but her trunk in toe, she let herself in to his home with the key he had so generously provided her and proceeded to the bedroom. Even after all of these years, she still relished the chance to surprise him.
She ventured through his closet and came out with a black robe. Satin for Methos, of course, no terry cloth. She disrobed, collected her clothing and stowed them away in her trunk before pulling out a bottle of Romanée Conti, dated 1976, two stem glasses, and placing all three items on the table by his bed.
Now that the area was set, she carried the robe to his bathroom and went to take a shower.
He made it clear from the start that any action she did would not make up for her betrayal. How could that be? Her intent for lying had not been for self-gain, but to keep his feelings.
Liam Riley had to be one of those bloody boyscouts who believed a promise meant its weight in gold. And to a man who still held to his religious beliefs as strongly as he had even before his first death, a promise to God meant something greater.
Perhaps she should have told him sometime over the next two hundred years. But exactly how did one go about that? He had made his choice and had taken the vow. In actuality, he made a very good priest. It suited him better than she had ever thought it would.
She had believed that his feelings regarding his calling would somehow undo her wrong toward him. He seemed filled with a joy and a sense of calm which she had never seen in him before. He had his place in the world, finally, after centuries of looking.
All of that somehow crumbled away when he learned the truth. Now he was that vulnerable, uncertain Liam she had met soon after his first death. And God was it annoying. There was no one who knew how to wallow as much as him.
So she left him to it and departed Paris. She would make it back to Detronto in a couple of weeks, but not before a stop over for an undetermined amount of time in Boston.
It wasn't her favorite city in the new world, but it definitely had its advantages, such as currently being the resident city for some of her favorite Immortals.
There was one in particular who she owed a visit more than any other. She had been a terrible friend with only giving him a letter or a phone call here or there for the last couple of months. At least she knew he wouldn't mind as he had his hands full at the moment. He was a newlywed, after all. Interesting circumstances that pushed that marriage into existance. She was sure those circumstances floored her friend more than he wanted to let on.
But marriages and magical bonds were not of her concern at the moment.
With nothing but her trunk in toe, she let herself in to his home with the key he had so generously provided her and proceeded to the bedroom. Even after all of these years, she still relished the chance to surprise him.
She ventured through his closet and came out with a black robe. Satin for Methos, of course, no terry cloth. She disrobed, collected her clothing and stowed them away in her trunk before pulling out a bottle of Romanée Conti, dated 1976, two stem glasses, and placing all three items on the table by his bed.
Now that the area was set, she carried the robe to his bathroom and went to take a shower.