|Title : Strangeness
Author : Gunbunny
E-mail : firstname.lastname@example.org
Fandom : Dark is Rising/Highlander
Pairing : Bran/Will, Methos in there for laughs...
Archive : www.kabukivice.co.uk/gisaku
. You want it, you got it.
Summary : Conversation at a party.
Disclaimer : I own the whole universe. You should know this by now.
Notes : This takes place around 1990, making Will and Bran in their
twenties. Methos, as ever, is in his twenties. And Will gave Bran back
his memories; I just like it when Bran knows these things. And I bow at
the feet of Sigrina, she who gives honest opinions.
Feedback: or it's the Smurfs
The man currently masquerading as Mark Ross, medical student, was bored.
The party, a typical student one, wasn't dead. Far from it. He just
wasn't in the mood to engage himself in the festivities.
A brown head emerges out of the crowd, attached to a stocky,
medium-height body and a good-looking, but not overly remarkable or
striking face, appearing to be in its twenties. The face smiles.
"You look bored."
"I am. There's been no-one interesting at this party until you
turned up, Stanton."
"Will I ever get you to call me by my first name or is it just too
much effort?" The young man sighs.
"Far too much effort. And you're still far too wise for a boy of
"In some senses I'm much older than you, Mark."
"And in others you're still the brat from Buckinghamshire."
"True. You want this beer?" Stanton asks, gesturing with his
left hand to draw attention to its contents.
"If it's poisoned, definitely not." Methos says, taking the
"It's beer. You'd drink it even if it was poisoned just for the
"That's not completely true." Methos replies, taking a drink.
"I have been known to refuse beer."
"What occurred for that miracle?"
"I'd been fed some awful concoction to make me sick, and beer on
top of that... well, let's just say it was too disgusting for even
"How's the student life been treating you? I haven't seen you as a
medical student since the twenties."
"Last time you were only sixteen. I still have problems with your
time travel. And there's always something new to learn in that
"It's not time travel. You've been reading too much science fiction
again." Will sighs, then sips his beer. "I've always been
there. Anyone who wrote a history of that time and place would write my
name down, if I let them."
Methos grins. "It's still weird. I first met you when you were
nineteen, and I was barely two thousand. The next time you were with
Lyon, and you were only eleven. Immortality is one thing, your kind is
completely different. Especially that thing you do with your
A voice intrudes. Strong North Wales accent. "What thing with your
fingers, Will? Be careful, Old One, I might get jealous."
Will speaks, teasing. "Oh, you know, that thing you enjoy so much.
I've got to share it with all my friends. This is Mark Ross, old friend
of mine. Complete and utter bastard. Currently doing a medical degree
and some teaching on the side."
Methos, on the other hand, is taking the opportunity to study the
newcomer, who's staring at him from behind tilted-down sunglasses with
unblinking gold eyes, like a bird's. The rest of him... well, where Will
was very normal, this young man was anything but. Tall, wiry, very
handsome, but with all the colour leeched out of him, aside from the
eyes. Dark clothing to emphasise the difference. And a natural arrogance
you could almost touch, not counting the subtle strangeness he carries
around in Will's fashion, though not an Old One.
The young man stretches out a hand. "Pleased to meet you. Bran
Davies. How long have you known Will?"
"A very long time."
"He's teasing. Bran, you remember me mentioning immortals?"
"Oh, yes. That lightning storm over Bristol when we were there. The
police were confused for days." The sunglasses go back up. "So
this is one, hmm? Interesting. Do you have your sword on you?"
"Be prepared." Methos takes a drink. "You're the
"He will keep spreading it shamelessly." Bran grins, for an
instant looking like a naughty schoolboy, the arrogance breaking
momentarily. "Even though I learned long ago never to trust a dewin."
There's something about Bran that keeps niggling at Methos, as they
continue to chat aimlessly. Something familiar aside from the
strangeness similar in a way to what Will possesses, aside from the fact
that Will hasn't used the spread fingers and 'Forget' tactic on him.
It's the looks, in an odd way, and the way of standing. He hasn't seen
it in centuries. That's it, in a way. The particular subtle combination
of looks bran possesses hasn't been seen on this isle in centuries. Old
memories of battles, and people trying to keep together a country left
bereft of the old conquerors from the continent surface, during which
Methos looks through his memories for exactly who this strange young man
"Mark... Earth to Mark... Come in, Mark." His attention
switches back to the present. Will raises an eyebrow. "What's
wrong? You've been staring at Bran."
"He reminds me of someone. Can't think who, though."
"You knew his parents."
"You knew my parents?" Bran looks surprised. "You're that
"He's not an Old One too, is he?" Methos asks.
Will smiles. "Nah, Bran's not an Old One. He's High magic,
"Once again, Stanton, no mystic obscurity. Or I take this beer
bottle and do things to you I'm sure you won't enjoy."
"I'd set Gwen on him if she was here, don't worry. Or Jenny. She's
more terrifying than my dogs when she gets going."
"That's not a nice thing to say about Jane's mother hen
"Ah, but so very true."
"Stanton, explain who your boyfriend is. Now."
"Pendragon, brought up in this time. Fairly simple."
Methos raises an eyebrow. "A bloody living legend. I didn't think
they were allowed in this day and age. And from your master's favourite,
Bran groans. "Please try to stay away from any mentions of my
parents' sex life, please. Even imagining that my da had sex at any
point in his life is bad enough."
Will frowns. "Hadn't thought of that one. Mark, were Merriman and
"Maybe. Quite possibly. I know for a fact that Arthur shagged Bevan."
"Bevan being Lancelot, I take it." Bran mutters. "It's
over, it's done with, it was fifteen hundred years ago. That's all we
need to know."
Will grins. "I'll make it up to you later."
"See that you do."
"If you feel the need, I believe there's a spare room in the
back." Methos smirks.
"They're all occupied." Will says.
"Pity." Bran replies. "Have to wait until then, then. But
you will pay, boyo, have no fear of that."
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