1stmacleod: (Hey there)
For far too long, Connor has avoided the Nexus, or really anywhere but the world in which he's settled with Kairos. He's always tended to be a hermit, and now that he has something to lose, he'd been holding onto it tight. That means keeping away from anywhere he might encounter another immortal. Duncan, of course, has been allowed to visit, but there are so few people Connor trusts.

This does not mean he's been unhappy. Connor's days are spent in his forge, or taking long walks with the dogs, and always in between that there is Kai, the center of his new life and the focus of his quiet but intense love. Connor's home is his castle, but he has made a fortress of his life, too, shutting out everything but that which he needs most. Of course it's not a completely healthy approach, but it's an old habit, and one he's not likely to change anytime soon.

It takes an enthusiastic invitation and a lot of prodding for Connor to go out to a party, and then only because he's been told it's in a safe and isolated place.
1stmacleod: (skeptical)
Methos? A good guy? A good guy to drink with, maybe.
1stmacleod: (big grin)
One-way conversation with Clark...
which turns into a peaceful walk, then devolves into a snow fight.
1stmacleod: (forge)
((This is an open post intended for anybody who'd like to play a thread visiting Connor at his forge. I consider any threads on this post fair game for Kai to jump in on, too. Additional similar posts available on request!))



The smithy, Connor's pride and joy, is technically a refurbished shed a little ways out from the back of the house he shares with Kairos. What started as an ivy covered, mostly stone building has since had most of one wall removed and replaced with a set of barn doors, with a sturdy support beam between them. It makes the place drafty and cold in winter, when it's not in use, but once the big forge has been going for an hour or two, it can get hot enough that the open doors let in a welcome breeze.

He has the doors open now, and the open side of the building faces the huge garden plot that takes up much of the back yard. It's covered with snow, now, cross-crossed with doggy pawprints of two different sizes. There's a semicircle of ground before the open doors that's free of snow, although it may be muddy in places. Frequent opening and closing of the doors combined with the heat of the place have melted it away. The sound of hammer on anvil rings out across the yard, and Sorcha is rolling at the edge of the snow with a big stick dragged from the nearby woodsy patch. It's a peaceful scene.

March 2015

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