Things Sought

by Margaret

22nd August 2002


Disclaimer: I don't own these characters which is probably just as well, nor do I own the concept. I make no profit from this and despite all appearances I mean no harm by it either ;-)

Rated: PG-15

Warnings: Violence

Pairing: None

Notes: A first attempt at writing shorter pieces, encouraged by the ever-lovely Kai.

Summary: Someone's pissed.


Kronos tightened his grip, feeling the blood well hot and slick between his fingers as he met the terrified blue eyes with icy indifference. The mortal's hands scrabbled uselessly at his arm, tugging at his sleeve but unable to find purchase for the weakened fingers, trying all the same with the kind of frantic desperation he normally found entertaining. At this moment it was nothing more than an annoyance.

Releasing his hold with one hand he reached for his knife where it still protruded from the man's side. Taking a good grip he twisted and tore it free, ending the wretch's life with uncharacteristic mercy... if it could be called that, given the state of the corpse as he stepped over it. His brothers followed behind him, flanking him in ages old habit, but they did not interfere as he advanced with deadly implacability on his next victim. The once-fearless Immortal warrior already beginning to quake under the unaccustomed pressure of being prey.

The single attempt at resistance was batted aside with contemptuous ease and bare, blood-stained hands. Kronos had long ago learned the value of patience at the hands of a master, learned when and how to apply it, but this was not the time to use those lessons. It took only one smooth movement to draw his sword from its sheath and slide the edge alongside the Immortal's throat, only barely breaking the skin as he stepped in close. At any other time it would have pleased him to see the absolute terror and desperation in the former warrior's eyes as blood and lightning mingled on the edge of his blade. Now it was simply irrelevant, an avenue of experimentation that he had neither the time nor the inclination to pursue. Survival as an Immortal was a matter of priorities, he'd learned that at the hands of a master too, interests and entertainments had to be set aside in the pursuit of the essentials. Leaning so close his breath whispered over bare and bleeding flesh, he repeated his question, each word almost painfully precise. "Where. Is. Methos?"

Finis.

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