Where did he fit along this scale, he wondered. To think of what he'd been like three to four thousand years ago, yes, from his current perspective he would put his past self down quite happily - he and his brothers. In a way he had exorcised that time of insanity by participating in the death of his brothers, but now.. Now he still killed as a matter of course. Not so frequently, and rarely of his own choice, but if that Immortal in first class chose to challenge him after landing and there was no way out he would follow that challenge through to the letter. Every single challenge could be deemed both serial murder and mutually-assisted suicide, if one were to interpret it that way.
Death was a way of life, to him, for all that he could not embrace it himself. Did this trouble him, even now? Not really. Only in the sense that each challenge could potentially end his own life. Training to take the head of another was part of his daily routine and the only burden was the time it took to deal with yet another damned youngling looking for a Quickening high. He'd never taken responsibility for anyone's life save his own, and that was a fact.
So was he unworthy? Again and again and again? By Clarice's logic, he assumed so, but Methos was no Darius. He might run and hide whenever possible, but he wasn't about to throw in the towel to live the life of a virtuous hermit. This was his life, such as it was, and it wasn't about to change. No new tricks for this old dog, even if Macleod had somehow managed to reawaken his conscience. He couldn't escape his nature, and he didn't want to.
"Indeed," he repeated, a strange smile on his lips.
How interesting that after all this time, a mortal with a morbid turn of thought could make him so philosophical.
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timeasmymeasure
[Methos] "Good death" (tag Clarice)
Date: 2006-01-23 11:23 pm (UTC)Where did he fit along this scale, he wondered. To think of what he'd been like three to four thousand years ago, yes, from his current perspective he would put his past self down quite happily - he and his brothers. In a way he had exorcised that time of insanity by participating in the death of his brothers, but now.. Now he still killed as a matter of course. Not so frequently, and rarely of his own choice, but if that Immortal in first class chose to challenge him after landing and there was no way out he would follow that challenge through to the letter. Every single challenge could be deemed both serial murder and mutually-assisted suicide, if one were to interpret it that way.
Death was a way of life, to him, for all that he could not embrace it himself. Did this trouble him, even now? Not really. Only in the sense that each challenge could potentially end his own life. Training to take the head of another was part of his daily routine and the only burden was the time it took to deal with yet another damned youngling looking for a Quickening high. He'd never taken responsibility for anyone's life save his own, and that was a fact.
So was he unworthy? Again and again and again? By Clarice's logic, he assumed so, but Methos was no Darius. He might run and hide whenever possible, but he wasn't about to throw in the towel to live the life of a virtuous hermit. This was his life, such as it was, and it wasn't about to change. No new tricks for this old dog, even if Macleod had somehow managed to reawaken his conscience. He couldn't escape his nature, and he didn't want to.
"Indeed," he repeated, a strange smile on his lips.
How interesting that after all this time, a mortal with a morbid turn of thought could make him so philosophical.