contains violence - nothing worse than the show - and flirting.
main characters: Adam Peirson(Methos), Faith
disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to any characters from 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' (creation of Joss Whedon & a whole lot of other people who aren't me) or from Highlander (Creation of a different group of people that don't include me).
distribution: Jinni's Quickfics, Paula, anyone else please ask.
notes: response to Jinni's Weekly Poetry Challenge (week 3, Poetry Quote below). Set AU post season four.
a small nod to Jinni's Willow/Methos for making me think of him again, and inspiring me to try using him in a fic.
"SHE walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow’d to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies."
-- She walks in beauty, Byron
He knew from the moment that he first saw her that she was someone special. Granted, that could have had a little to do with the fact that she had been busy fighting four vampires at the time, and winning, but still... She'd been beautiful, and her motion the sort to inspire poetry. Graceful, powerful, sensual even in a fight... mmmm. If he were a cat, he would be purring right about now.
Of course, he really should have known better, especially at his age, than to allow himself to be so completely distracted in a place with obvious vampires. His not-so-gentle reminder of that came in the form of a blond female vampire wearing a pair of those ridiculously low blue jeans with the flare legs and this sort of corsety top that showed of the tattoo encircling her pierced navel.
"Dinner is served, lucky me." Her claws had dug into his arm, drawing blood as she spun him around, trying to pull him close enough to bite.
"Sorry to break it to you, but you aren't my type." He'd shoved his other fist into her throat, the pain of it buying time for him to draw his sword. Then, he was fighting her, a man with a sword against a vampire with inhuman strength and sharp teeth. Thank... something... that she wasn't that good of a fighter. He still felt rather bruised by the time his sword parted that fanged head from her body, both falling to dust.
"Not bad. Decapitation does tend to kill most things." This voice was less threatening, with a sort of near purr and a faint New England accent to it. She was smiling at him, one hand on a leather clad hip, no bruises, injuries or weapons visible anymore. There were also no more vampires.
For a terribly awkward moment, he hadn't been certain what to say. Then, he'd smiled at her. "It's a fairly basic idea. Been around for a very long time, actually. I'm just... rather lucky that she wasn't that good of a fighter."
"Yeah... lucky." There was something in her smirk, a hint of secret knowledge that taunted him, tantalized him. "Might not be a bad idea to go inside somewhere, maybe a place with fewer vamps?"
He grinned, and gave in to the arrogance that had once led him to believe that he was above the laws, above the gods. "Maybe I can buy you a drink? I know this nice little jazz club..."
"You get attacked by a vampire, and now you're asking me out?" She looked shocked, but not angry. "Sorry, but I don't accept drinks from people whose name I don't know."
Holding out one hand, he smiled just a little. "Easily remedied. I'm Adam Peirson."
Her own hand slipped into his, hard with muscle and calluses, but almost delicate feeling just the same. "I'm Faith."
A part of him was trying to protest, to offer a warning that at best, this could only lead to heartache in the future. But the words emerged anyhow. "So... now that you know my name, how about that drink?"
Faith brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes. "Most guys wouldn't be quite so keen to go off with someone they just saw fighting monsters. What makes you different?"
The question made him smile, thinking of all the possible ways he could answer that one. "Eternal optimism? Actually, you reminded me of a bit of poetry I heard once, something about being beautiful like the night, and a blending of light and dark. Except said a lot better, because that's what poets do."
She smiled, and was that a blush on those cheeks? She slipped her hand lightly onto his arm, her words soft, as if she wasn't quite certain that she should be saying them. "Maybe a drink might be nice."
A fragment of even older poetry danced in his mind, composed by a long forgotten poet for a forgotten king. Looking at her, he could only smile, thinking that here was a woman worthy of being called a bright star. She dwelled in a world filled with darkness, but there was a light to her. Maybe... maybe she could be his bright star?
"It would be my delight, oh bright star of heaven." The smile would hopefully keep her from deciding that he was some sort of lunatic.
Faith was definitely blushing now, almost glancing away. "You've been listening to too many poets."
She'd blushed, maybe been embarrassed, but she hadn't pulled away. Maybe... maybe she could be his bright star. He would have to see how the future unfolded.
end Bright Star.