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Acid Tongue
Feb. 17th, 2007 10:00 pmTitle: Acid Tongue
Character: Methos
For: challenge #128 on![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
highlander100 "fever bright"
#1
Everything is fever bright. Colours sharp, hurt his eyes, dance on his tongue. Bubbles skitter all across his skin.
Methos sits on the grass; green blades sharp under his naked behind. Doesn't mind. It reminds him of a shamanic trance he was once in, reminds him the spirit of the bear, the spirit of the nightingale. He sways with the music, the beautiful music. Looks at his hand curling around the hilt of his sword. Long fingers that have seen so much, been in so many places. Felt so much. He watches his hand move, and with it, his sword.
[100][Q to Methos]
#2
Hours later, Methos wakes with the taste of dirt in his mouth and a mild headache. Around him, the grass is covered with mortals in various degrees of consciousness and undress. He finds that someone painted two flowers on his chest, centred around his nipples, and a large lizard climbing up from his groin towards them. He has a sneaking suspicion he requested it.
He walks unsteadily towards the stage. The music is still playing, it's just less magical now. Someone ambles towards him, just as unsteadily.
"You were Death," he grins. Methos freezes. "Must've been some bad acid, man."
[100][Q to Methos]
Inspiration, by Joss:
Spike: Oh, please! If every vampire who said he was at the crucifixion was actually there, it would have been like Woodstock. [...] I was actually at Woodstock. That was a weird gig. I fed off a flowerperson, and spent the next six hours watching my hand move.
Character: Methos
For: challenge #128 on
highlander100 "fever bright"#1
Everything is fever bright. Colours sharp, hurt his eyes, dance on his tongue. Bubbles skitter all across his skin.
Methos sits on the grass; green blades sharp under his naked behind. Doesn't mind. It reminds him of a shamanic trance he was once in, reminds him the spirit of the bear, the spirit of the nightingale. He sways with the music, the beautiful music. Looks at his hand curling around the hilt of his sword. Long fingers that have seen so much, been in so many places. Felt so much. He watches his hand move, and with it, his sword.
[100][Q to Methos]
#2
Hours later, Methos wakes with the taste of dirt in his mouth and a mild headache. Around him, the grass is covered with mortals in various degrees of consciousness and undress. He finds that someone painted two flowers on his chest, centred around his nipples, and a large lizard climbing up from his groin towards them. He has a sneaking suspicion he requested it.
He walks unsteadily towards the stage. The music is still playing, it's just less magical now. Someone ambles towards him, just as unsteadily.
"You were Death," he grins. Methos freezes. "Must've been some bad acid, man."
[100][Q to Methos]
Inspiration, by Joss:
Spike: Oh, please! If every vampire who said he was at the crucifixion was actually there, it would have been like Woodstock. [...] I was actually at Woodstock. That was a weird gig. I fed off a flowerperson, and spent the next six hours watching my hand move.
