My favorite Highlander has a birthday coming up -- his 495th, to be precise. (Connor MacLeod, born January 1st, 1518; still with us. What fourth movie?) So I thought I'd spend the day before Connor's birthday writing short fics* -- a few sentences, three or four paragraphs -- if you guys wanted to give me prompts, other characters for him to
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His quickening crawled suddenly, spiking in surges until it felt like someone was yanking barbed wire under the skin. It was all Connor could do to hold silent, bent over his mug and wondering if someone had dropped something in his coffee, if the government had gone mad enough to try some new energy weapon in the middle of Manhattan… and then it leveled out ( ... )
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I particularly like the detail about him passing out the business cards an noticing that someone of the lads and lasses with him needed a steady job.
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And yeah, Connor's lived through the days of volunteer militias, and fire brigades. ::amused:: He went because he wasn't sure the city'd make it if people didn't, and he organized because he knew what he was doing. I *liked* his lads and lasses! Some great people in that line of his.
Glad you liked it and thank you for such a neat prompt!
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Yeah, I liked the one Buddhist who just went, "I'm sorry, I can't shoot them. But I can watch your backs while you stop them hurting others." Connor thought offering to walk *backwards* into enemy fire was insanely brave and immediately said yes.
Anyway: short version -- thank you, I'm glad you liked it too!
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And yeah. I probably will revisit it. ::amused:: I have to figure out a timeline for that!
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