Blood & Steel - Nightmares: Part 1
A/N: I've just started going back through my stories, and reworking the ones that I have on I won't be reworking the first chapter, but the subsequent chapters will be altered slightly to reflect my growth as a writer. You might see a little change, but it should be for the better (I hope).
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HIGHLANDER OR WITCHBLADE!
"Why was I one of the chosen ones?
Until the fight I could not see
The magic and the strength of my power
It was beyond my wildest dreams."
- "Dark Wings" by Within Temptation
Flames. Fire. Glinting steel. A resigned expression. This was meant to happen. Doesn't mean that she has to like it.
"Niamh! No!" The face of one she loved.
Joan. Cathain. Cleopatra. Blood on her hands, the urge for power fluxing through her veins.
A familiar face, bending over her hand, kissing it, while asking, quietly, "Do I know you?"
Conchobar. Ian. Blood and fire. Lifetimes passing before her eyes.
One last face, so achingly familiar that she tried to cling to it. "Arnostos."
"Because of who you are, you will be sought after, you will be hunted, you will be forced to kill, and to endure countless centuries alone." That voice, well-known to both of them.
On two different continents, in two different cities, two completely different women bolted up in bed, sweat dripping from them, nightmares still echoing in their heads.
One, a detective, devoted to her work, searching for answers to ancient questions, and trying to come to terms with her newest piece of jewelry, a weapon with it's own legend and it's own temperament, if the swirling stone was to be an indicator of it's moods. Her features were dark and moody, her hair dark brown and her eyes even darker. Watched by a protector who felt something for her, but was restricted by a tyrant from exposing anything about himself to her. Guided by a ghost of a best friend, trying not to crack under the pressure of keeping her secrets to herself, and not being able to share them with the new partner, the one she was supposed to depend on.
The other, a living legend, working secretly to keep from being discovered and keep her life to herself. Content to live in the past, where those she loved and had been loved by lived on, even though they were dead. Her history, when she thought about it, was bloody, but not as bloody as some. She knew things, things that none but one of her advanced age could know, about mythical objects and unsuspecting pawns in games being played by beings who she didn't even know of. Her first name, the one the legend knew her by, one she detested and despised, forcing her to remember a time when she'd been too weak and helpless to defend herself, reminding her of a promise that she'd made to herself, that she would be stronger and no longer helpless. Her hair is reddish-brown, and her eyes brown.
They're very similar, and yet so very different. United by a simple piece of metal, and about to meet in a collision course from one's past.
Sara Pezzini, meet Saoirse Ramirez. History is about to catch up with you both.