Boredom posting...
Sep. 29th, 2006 08:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mogwai_doWell, I'm not as moody as I was yesterday but I'm still far too tired to be entirely sane as must be evidenced by the vast quantities of Within Temptation, Nightwish and Lacuna Coil I'm currently listening to - admittedly I'm deleting most of it, but that's not the point.
Had my 6 month review, all shiny and sparkly. Spoke to payroll about screwing up my pay, they're going to take the overpay out of next month's salary - tragically she told me if I hadn't said anything there was a good chance they never would have noticed - bummer.
In other news as a nice indicator of my value, they haven't offered to pay me more, however they've said they'll pay for me to do a language course, which I was hoping to do anyway until the Conference got in the way. Only problem is, because of the Conference, I may have left it too late as all the students are enrolling now so it's 50/50 whether I'll manage to get on a course, but I'll try. Also, not guaranteed, but suggested was that if I saw a Masters I fancied, they might well sponsor me to do one. Not inclined at the moment, but it's something to bear in mind for the future if I see something I like. Nice to know anyway.
And now some fic...
Disclaimer: I don't own Methos or the concept of Immortality, but just wait until I win the lottery ;-) I make no profit and mean no harm by this.
Rating: PG
Warning: None
Pairing: None
Notes: Yet another tiny snippet thing. Thanks to Kai for the encouragement and for saying she liked the homicidal ones.
Summary: Dark Quickenings can be a real bitch.
The Valley of the Shadow
Copyright Margaret Turner
19th July 2001
Methos snarled furiously as the mist wrapped around him, his grip on his sword tightening until he thought his fingers would break. Anger surged through his veins, almost comforting in its familiarity. More than a dozen Immortals fuelled the drive to darkness, but they were out of their depth. Methos' own personal darkness was more than a match for a great many things, living or dead.
For the first time in millennia Methos consciously reached for that part of himself and with a rush it came. He could feel the chill stealing along his limbs and he screamed to the skies; lightning refracted and reflected a thousand-fold within the mirrored ice of his soul, fierce and deadly, so hot it froze and so cold it burned. He embraced it like a lover, opening himself to it even as the foreign Quickening battered his body from without, seeking entrance to his soul. It found what it sought and was swallowed whole for its efforts.
As his body relaxed into the rightness of a Quickening absorbed, Methos could feel himself falling, growing numb and empty. He shivered uncontrollably - he couldn't... didn't want to be that again, but... It was like dying of hypothermia; after a while the cold became its own kind of warmth, warm enough that a soul could just curl up in its embrace and forget, then things would be alright again.
"No," it was barely even a whisper, some tiny part of his soul refusing to succumb. It wasn't enough, it wasn't nearly enough. Methos felt his eyes slip closed as his battered body began a slow slide to the ground, he was exhausted and powerless to stop it, but there was no despair in it anymore, no fear. It felt more like... coming home.
***
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for I am the meanest motherfucker in the valley. - Anon.
***
FIN
10th September 2002
Comments welcome.
Had my 6 month review, all shiny and sparkly. Spoke to payroll about screwing up my pay, they're going to take the overpay out of next month's salary - tragically she told me if I hadn't said anything there was a good chance they never would have noticed - bummer.
In other news as a nice indicator of my value, they haven't offered to pay me more, however they've said they'll pay for me to do a language course, which I was hoping to do anyway until the Conference got in the way. Only problem is, because of the Conference, I may have left it too late as all the students are enrolling now so it's 50/50 whether I'll manage to get on a course, but I'll try. Also, not guaranteed, but suggested was that if I saw a Masters I fancied, they might well sponsor me to do one. Not inclined at the moment, but it's something to bear in mind for the future if I see something I like. Nice to know anyway.
And now some fic...
Disclaimer: I don't own Methos
Rating: PG
Warning: None
Pairing: None
Notes: Yet another tiny snippet thing. Thanks to Kai for the encouragement and for saying she liked the homicidal ones.
Summary: Dark Quickenings can be a real bitch.
The Valley of the Shadow
Copyright Margaret Turner
19th July 2001
Methos snarled furiously as the mist wrapped around him, his grip on his sword tightening until he thought his fingers would break. Anger surged through his veins, almost comforting in its familiarity. More than a dozen Immortals fuelled the drive to darkness, but they were out of their depth. Methos' own personal darkness was more than a match for a great many things, living or dead.
For the first time in millennia Methos consciously reached for that part of himself and with a rush it came. He could feel the chill stealing along his limbs and he screamed to the skies; lightning refracted and reflected a thousand-fold within the mirrored ice of his soul, fierce and deadly, so hot it froze and so cold it burned. He embraced it like a lover, opening himself to it even as the foreign Quickening battered his body from without, seeking entrance to his soul. It found what it sought and was swallowed whole for its efforts.
As his body relaxed into the rightness of a Quickening absorbed, Methos could feel himself falling, growing numb and empty. He shivered uncontrollably - he couldn't... didn't want to be that again, but... It was like dying of hypothermia; after a while the cold became its own kind of warmth, warm enough that a soul could just curl up in its embrace and forget, then things would be alright again.
"No," it was barely even a whisper, some tiny part of his soul refusing to succumb. It wasn't enough, it wasn't nearly enough. Methos felt his eyes slip closed as his battered body began a slow slide to the ground, he was exhausted and powerless to stop it, but there was no despair in it anymore, no fear. It felt more like... coming home.
***
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for I am the meanest motherfucker in the valley. - Anon.
***
FIN
10th September 2002
Comments welcome.