That said, I wrote a Highlander: The Series snippet thingee today in-between debating the morality of suicide in my Ethics class.
The slice of sword through neck was a unique sound. It varied depending on the angle of the cut and the thickness, sharpness, and curve of the blade and the strength behind the stroke, but still, the sound was esentially the same. Actually, it was a combination of sound and feel. You felt the crunch of the neck vertebrae, but didn't hear it. The swish of the sword cutting through the air, the hiss like a balloon letting out air as the sword wnet through the skin, the hot spray of the blood as it splattered everywhere. And then a pregnant pause, a kind of still white noise, where all you sense turn inward, you body feels heavy yet somehow disconnected, dizzy... and then the world explodes.
A Quickening takes you. It doesn't enter you, it consumes you. A Quickening is sure sensation. Every sensation. Most Immortals said Quickenings were either pleasurable or painful, but they imposed those categories -- a Quickening could not be so easily pigeonholed. It was fire through every nerve in the body, destroying and healing at the same time. Death and life in an instant that lasts eternity.
None of this went through the mind of the oldest Immortal -- and now the last -- as he swung and severed the head of the only other Immortal left on Earth. Neither did he think to wonder just what the Prize would be, since deep in his heart the Immortal didn't really believe in it. He did not feel any satisfaction in the killing -- he'd done it all before. At the moment he severed the other Immortal's head, all the man whose most famous name was Methos felt was tired. A weariness not of the body but of the soul. He was numb.
The Quickening tore that numbness away.
So, I'm thinking that maybe thats the start of something more. Possibly the start of that crossover story I was thinking of, Methos in Middle Earth (except without Diefenbaker and Sherlock Holmes, I'm not quite THAT weird).
Or something.
