I Want Tomorrow
By: Grey Wolf
Disclaimer: The Lyrics belong to Roma Ryan. The song is composed and performed by Enya. Highlander belongs to Panzer-Davis, I think.
Note: I love Methos and Nick Wolf and I want to make this a series but I want to see what people's response is to this chapter before I start another series. So Read and review and let me know what you think, flames are welcome I make friends out of flamers anyway so be afraid, be very afraid =^-^=
Dawn breaks; there is blue in the sky.
Your face before me though I don't know why.
Thoughts disappearing like tears from the moon.
Waiting here; as I sit by the stone
They came before me, those men from the sun.
Signs from the heavens say I am the one.
Chorus
Now you're here; I can see your light,
This light that I must follow,
You -- you may take my life away
-- So far away.
Now I know; I must leave your spell
-- I want tomorrow.
Two swords sand out their song in metallic voices. Their masters where entwined in a fighter's dance, their swords an extension of their souls as mush as their arms.
It was a fight between the young and the old; the ageless battle for superiority. It was the battle between burning hearts and heated tempers. It was a fight to the bitter last drop of blood was bled from the defeated fighter's cooling body.
Their dance was a violent one, with cuts and blood spilt from soft flesh. Still with this life blood draining from wounds the sword dance did not slow. Sweet bled from their bodies as the dance quickened. The age and experience did not count here, nor did young muscles and stubbornness; the fighters where ageless, immortal.
Their dance where ended prematurely and dragged out of the flow of time by one small mistake, a wrong move; a thrust instead of a parry. It caused the older of the two fighters to lose his partner with one sweep of his sword. Flesh and sword met with deadly accurately and the younger man's head left its place on his body to have a short flied through the air before landing away off on the soft grass. The head's body fell to its knees and its opponent sank to one knee, like a kneeling knight as the sparks of the quickening started to swirl around him.
The pain overtook him, the pain of his sin but also the pleasure of winning ran through his veins and filled him with a raw power that threatened to corrupt him, to consume him and kill him.
The high subsided and Methos the oldest of the ageless climbed to his feet and looked at the headless boy. He could not have been more than a 100 year but he had been a good fighter.
He sat down on a large, smooth, flat stone and waited for the sun's approach. The light of it might be able to show him the way because now he felt more lost the he ever had; he was 5000 years old but where he's road was leading he still didn't know…
