9712/The Ageless Question

The Ageless Question
Date of Scene:	22 October 2019
Location:	Metropolis Military Cemetery, Midvale, New Troy
Synopsis:	A trio of Immortals converge on the Memorial for a Hero, and have a drink for
Cast of Characters:	Connor Macleod, Raissa Basarab, Nikias
Tinyplot:	Age of Darkness

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Connor Macleod has posed:
The day was wearing thin now, as the rain continues to fall. The air was crisp and chilly, damp and wet, as what normally happens when it rains. The Memorial Cemetery was now pretty much empty, except for the figure of one lone man, wearing a long, dark trenchcoat.

Connor Macleod's auburn-red hair was long and stringy from the rain. His eyes were also red, and his expression was sombre. His hands were shoved in his pocket as he walks down the well-kept walkway, heading towards the exit.

Raissa Basarab has posed:
Connor was heading for the exit, Raissa was making her way into the graveyard. Odd how life works out. She was dressed in well tailored slacks, crisp white shirt and a long black over coat and a large umbrella that shelters her from the rain. The woman stops short though when her 'oh shit there's another Immortal around!' sense kicked in. She moves just past the threshold of the gates and there's a look to Connor, her green eyes softening as she takes in his appearance.

"Are you alright?" she asks him. Probably not the oddest question she could have asked the man, but hey, here it was.

Connor Macleod has posed:
Connor Macleod stops in his tracks as that familiar feeling hits him once again. The sense that another immortal was nearby. Although in a city like this, it was usually a little difficult to pick them out of the crowd, this time was pretty easy as the place was nearly empty.

Pushing his hand through his very wet hair, Connor smiles. The woman with the large umbrella asked him something..."Yes, thank you." His strange accent was a little more "Roguish Scotland" today, as opposed to "Southern France" it was other days. Must be the drink. "I suppose I could ask you the same question? Holy Ground, rainy day, et vous?"

Nikias has posed:
The pair's Immortal sense triggers again as Nikias stalks his way to the gate, stopping only briefly at the threshold to glance tiredly at Raissa and Connor, snorting slightly with amusement as he shakes his head slightly at them and brushes in, "Guess I'm not the only one feeling sentimental." He says in a wistful tone, lacking the usual blood drenched mirth the ancient one is known for.

Raissa Basarab has posed:
Raissa steps over towards Connor, her free hand held a loft and showing she's not armed, because some people got twitchy about others wanting to get close. The umbrella is offered his way, stopping the rain from furter drenching him. "Not like you're going to die from a cold." she offers with the hint of a smile. Then she nods, "I'm alright. Was coming to see a few old friends and to stop by a newer grave." she frowns a bit.

She looks to Nikias though when he approaches, "Nikias." she gives him a smile. "I guess we all might be feeling our years when things like this happen." she tells them.

Connor Macleod has posed:
Connor Macleod watches the woman step forward, and his eyes follow her every move. As she offers the umbrella, a distinct note of kindness, Commor regards her with a slight suspicious air. "Thank you. That is moderately kind of you." It was like he wasn't used to kindness, almost flinching at their casual, indirect touch as she moves closer.

Macleod chuckles. "No. Not going to die from tha' cold, that's true. Ya' look familiar...but not sure where...anyway, me as well. I was here visiting the Big Boyscout's grave. We shared a drink. Well, ah had ta' drink for him this time. I expect he'd appreciate it.

As their senses trigger again, Connor looks over at Nikias. "Looks like three ah us today. Sentimental is right. Not truly a three's crowd." Connor holds out his hands, and says, "Neutral ground and all, especially at a time like this." His eyes look at each of the other Immortal's in turn, and adds, "Another day, as it were."

Nikias has posed:
Nikias quietly grunts at Connor's explaination of why he was at the cemetary, "Same, Macleod. Figure I should pay my respects, and all..." He then glances to Raissa, "....Ya know, ya look familiar, but I just cant place you...Not one'a my ex-wives, are you? If you are, yer still not getting that alimony, you already got the houses." He says in an obviously struggling attempt at sounding cheery and jokey before his face falls again, "....Well uh...If you guys wanna go get plastered, I just need a minute. Gotta go finish up here first..." He says before looking away to make his way to the Man of Steel's grave.

Raissa Basarab has posed:
Raissa gives a smile to Connor, "It's no problem. Figured it's better than getting drenched any more." she tells him. "I'm Raissa Basarab. Spent a lot of time in areas where wars were going on at the time. So I'm guessing you might have seen me around France or another place." she tells the men. She gives a chuckle, "Ah, so you're Connor Macleod." she states after Nikias names him. "I don't think I wanna lose my head anytime soon. So maybe another year." she winks at him.

"I don't think I'm one of your ex-wives, no, Nikias. I've never been married." she admits. Then she dips her head as Nik goes to pay his respects.

Connor Macleod has posed:
"Nikias." Connor acknowledges the ancient Immortal with a respectful nod. A motion he rarely accords anyone. As the other two chat, Connor remains quiet, listening to their conversation to see if he could remember the "young" woman as well. Seems he and the Spartan were on the same page this time at least.

"Sure, Nikias, sure." Connor watches as Nikias moves past the two, and then looks at Raissa as well. "Raissa? "Nice to meet you. Indeed I am. I'm Connor. Connor Macleod, of the Clan Macleod." A smile at her comment. "Another year then...If I am holding you up?" Connor waves towards the cemetery and adds, "They must have been special to be buried here." That was Connor's attempt at being thoughtful and warm, but falls flat. A wordsmith he ain't.

Nikias has posed:
As Raissa names herself while he walks away, Nikias snaps his fingers, "Raissa, I remember now! Careful with that one, Macleod, she's a hellcat that one." He says with another small chuckle. He then makes his way to Superman's grave, looking up at it for a moment before lowering himself to one knee. He spends a moment quietly reciting a Spartan funeral prayer before pulling a pair of golden coins from his pocket and setting them on the grave, "Not on your eyes, maybe. But I think the ferryman will understand in your case...Rest well, soldier, your fight is done..." He says before standing back up. He stares a moment longer before turning and walking back to the pair, "Alright. It's done." He says with a determined look.

Raissa Basarab has posed:
"It's nice to meet you, Mister Macleod. I've heard good things about you." Raissa tells him with a smile. Her accent is one that hasn't been around for awhile, but sounds like it's from the Romanian or Hungarian regions. She gives a shake of her head, "Nothing holds me up. I've got all the time in the world really." she reminds him. Then there's a look around, "Everyone buried here is special in their own ways. I am saddened by the loss of Superman though." she admits.

Then she looks to Nikias as he walks away, "Hellcat? Me? Pfft." she gives a grin. Though she quiets when she sees the Spartan paying his respects. Face growing somber. When he returns there's a dip of her head, "So what have you been up to lately?" she looks between them.

Connor Macleod has posed:
Looking over at Nikias, Connor Macleod shakes his head, and turns his attention back to Raissa. "Ignore him. Manners were different on Sparta eons ago. I am sure you must indeed be a Hellcat to have survived the Game as long as you have. France huh? Maybe. I know I've seen you before..." Connor actually chuckles. "Mister. Please. Call me Connor." Connor leans back a bit, feeling the cold water drip down his back. Another feeling to remind him he was alive.

Trying not to listen to the words that Nikias says to Superman, Connor changes the topic here, between himself and Raissa. "Good things. Whoever told you that, was probably lying." A wink. "Wisdom and truth. Everyone here was special." His eyes stare at her. "We know which side you are on."

As he returns, Connor moves to have the both of them in front of him. "Welcome back Nikias." Connor suddenly has three shot glasses in his hands, where earlier when he did a similar tribute to Superman, he had just two. "Who wants to share a toast with me? If'n ya kin handle a wee dram o' Scotch, me lovelies." Although having fun, his accent was spot on. "It's the Dalmore 62 Single Highland Malt Scotch. A fitting tribute, almost as fitting as your coins my Spartan friend."

Nikias has posed:
Nikias chuckles slightly at Connor's offer of boozin it up, "Well, I've always prefered my wines, but sure, this seems like a good day to remember only that we forgot." He says with a smirk. When the coins are mentioned, Nikias shrugs slightly, smirk not abating, "We've all got our customs. Cant all be as fun as yours, Macleod." His tone already recovered from the melancholy of the pall of death.

Raissa Basarab has posed:
Raissa gives a look to Connor and there's a soft smile, "I tend to think I'm just well trained and try not to get too distracted, though it gets rather lonely that way." she admits. "I fought during the revolution and other things. Thankfully managed to escape the guillotine." she muses. "I tend to fight for the underdogs and those that are good." she nods to that.

When Connor suddenly has three shot glasses she looks over his coat, "Do you have a full bar in there?" she teases him. Then she nods, "Can handle good Scotch." she admits.

Connor Macleod has posed:
Connor smiles, hands each person a glass, and with a "BLOMP" the stopper is removed from the bottle. Next a generous pour for each. "To Superman! May heroes be there to save us every time!" With a nod, and a smile, Connor drinks the very old, very expensive Scotch. "Ah...that's so good." Gasp. "So. Perhaps we should continue this at a nearby bar. Why does an old Portuguese Pub feel right...?"