Sometimes, you have to stick with what works.

Because honestly?

There's worst ways to spend a cool fall night than underground in a semi-heat-regulated subway, kept slightly cleaner than, say, a garbage dump.

It's clean by Ratter's standards. Though Ratter's standards aren't standards, per se. More like guidelines. Loose guidelines.

Tonight, he isn't hungry. He isn't interested in attracting attention or interest. His tunes are eerie, soft, lilting, with twirling scales, often fading into background noise beneath the roars of the trains.

He's just a guy with a harmonica.

It was the flashing lights that lured Celeste down into the subway. The neon signs, the bustle of people. She wanted to see what the attraction was.

The subway was filthy, but Celeste took no notice. The first object to catch her attention was the hot dog vendor, reading a paper by his large, red and white striped cart. He had that typical vendor cart umbrella over his stand, and Celeste giggled. It couldn't rain down here. She should tell him so he would know.

She never got that far. A train rushed in, and it frightened her. Loud screeching breaks and the roar of the engine, bouncing off all the cold, concrete walls. People rushed out, and she was lost among them, until she burst out of the crowd in front of a man.

A man playing the harmonica.

She stared up at him for a long moment before breaking into a grin. "What's that!" And there was a new game to be played. How long could Ratter deal with an overexcited four year old who wanted to know about everything?

We'll see, won't we?

Ratter lowered the harmonica from his lips,eyebrows creased in a tiny frown. No parents?

Hm.

No parents.

Fun.

The frown disappeared into a showman's smile, as he explained "This is a harmonica. I've been playing it for quite a few years now. Do you like the music?"

His tone when speaking to humans is smooth, soft, calm. The voice of a salesman, assuring you that he knows what he's doing, and that you should go along with it due to his surety. He's very good at it.

Speaking with others of his own kind he's far less likely to be false and condescending. But anyway. She isn't of his kind. She's a pretty little mortal child.

Celeste blinked large blue eyes up at the man, nodding furiously when asked about his music. Of course she liked it. She was fascinated by it.

"It's like a whistle, huh! I have a whistle. It's silver!"

She obviously wasn't old enough to grasp that as being an entirely different object.

But, see, a whistle can only command attention for so long. "My name is Celeste and I ran away from home but I've never been here before so I came here for the first time!" She grinned for a moment, before the train that had recently pulled in started away, ringing an annoying bell and clattering down the tracks with a defeaning roar.

"But I don't like this place because of the big loud Tunnel Snake." She wasn't smiling aymore, but looking apprehensively at the tracks.

"Really." He smiled. "Can I see your whistle?" Anything to keep her talking, at the moment.

"I don't have a name. Or a home." He grinned. "I should find one, don't you think? Maybe we should go find one together. There aren't any trains where homes are."

Ratter is oddly talkative when he doesn't care what you know. He's also odd in general, in my opinion.

When the train cleared, Celeste looked back up to Ratter. She heard him, but she promptly disregarded anything that wasn't interesting. The whistle was no longer the subject of the day, but the name... The name had taken all precident. Why didn't he have a name? Did no one name him? Did he have to be named like a bunny or a puppy or a fishie did?

"Well, you need to have a name, silly. That's how people know you." She nodded seriously. "I'm gonna name you... Um... Whistle!" She grinned, finding her name for him both hilarious and serviceable.

"And you don't need a home because I know the bestest most secretest place in the world that is as good as a home because it's..." She hopped closer to him, and cupped her little hands around her mouth. "It's a church!" She whispered harshly up at him, and then broke into a new grin of excitement. "I'll show you! Follow me, Whistle!"

And with that she turned around, giggling and skipped her way back to the stairs leading to the subway. It didn't cross her mind to look back. She just figured he was as excited as she was.

Interesting.

Still, as Ratter hadn't gone by his real name in over fifty years, and even then he'd hated it, and because one nickname was rather like another....

Whistle, huh.

He could live with that.

For a given value of 'live', that is.

He rose, gangly limbs slipping from sitting to standing to walking with a minimum of knobbly elbows. He has long legs. He followed, tucking harmonica into a pocket, with a somewhat amused expression on his (haggered) face. Kid was a sweety.

"So you live at the church, then?"

"Sometimes," she responded, the tone in her voice still anticipating the excitement of being able to show someone else her church.

"Sometimes I live with Daddy and sometimes I live with Uncle Cotton but sometimes I live at the church, too." She bobbed along at his knees much like a bouy caught in the surf. If you paid close enough attention, you'd see she was skipping cracks in the sidewalk.

"But I don't like my daddy so I run away and go exploring and one day I found the church and it's really cool. Uncle Cotton goes there too sometimes, to see me and make sure I'm safe and stuff." She nodded in step, or bounce, or whatever she seemed to be doing to avoid cracks at this moment.

Cotton. It seemed that Ra- ahem, Whistle - wasn't the only one with a unique nickname courtesy of the little lady.

"Will I get to meet your uncle?"

Two meals, price of one. He could live with that.

Look - he's Nephim, or mostly. They aren't noted for their sense of smell. If she smells of vampire, he doesn't notice.

As yet another side note, he isn't actively hunting the girl. It's not like he kills small children on a regular basis. Or that he's particularly hungry right now anyway.

But a fix was a fix, y'know?

"You know, I can get us there faster if you tell me where to go." He has neat powers.

Like a drug trip, only when you wake up in the morning, it was still real.

Great fun.

Celeste grinned. "Uh huh! Uncle Cotton is big and tall and nice. He likes to meet my friends."

She wouldn't smell like vampire. It's been a week since she's seen her uncle, and her father was as mortal as they come.

"Really? Are you going to give me a piggy back ride?" Her eyes went wide with delight. Piggy back ride! "I know where to go. It's by the bar!" And if she had known there were four bars in downtown area, she might have been able to give a name. Trouble was, she remembered things based on what they looked like. A bar was a bar. She couldn't describe that any better.

"And the church is old and no one ever goes there so no one can find me whan I go there because no one goes in!"

That was something he might be able to work off of.

Celeste bounced around his ankles, waiting for him to pick her up.

"That's right," he said with an easy grin, "You get a piggyback ride."

Granted that he's thinking about eating the child in a serious, non-joking manner, I find this more than mildly disturbing. Just thought I'd point that out.

He picks her up - he can lift a fully grown human easily, let alone a little girl, and there's some stuff, and then she's firmly ensconsed on his back.

Shall we say, five minutes, tops, to find the church? With a side of mind control for the child, to make the speed and, well, speed, seem completely normal.

Pretty.

Celeste was always taught never to talk to strangers. But, I guess after you name them and take them to your secret hideout, they aren't strangers anymore. They're friends. Well, to Celeste they're friends.

She clamped onto his neck tightly, a fear of falling ingrained in her mind, and a lack of regard for her companion's neck. But he didn't breathe. He wasn't using that neck anyway.

And then the city shot by, like as if she was in a car. But... This was normal, she reasoned. Maybe it was like being stoned. It didn't matter than none of the world was making sense. All that mattered was the fact that there were tons of pretty colours.

And the fact that they were going to the church faster. That was also mildly important.

Around Ratter, everything is like being stoned.

This might tell you something about the man.

"This it?"

This is it, for the record.

And he doesn't waste time waiting around outside, because hey, door. And hey, he hasn't put her down, because why would he do that?

Heeere, uncle uncle uncle....

Colton was in the church, mostly because Stephen called to let him know Celeste had run away again. The two exchanged harsh words, and Colton came to sit at the church.

He was dressed in his suit, running from work to the church because Stephen couldn't get his miserable act together long enough to watch his daughter. Colton wasn't too happy about that. He should have been at work. He had stuff to take care of. He had a job, unlike some miserable bastards that considered themselves worthy parents--

And the door opens. Colton glances over his shoulder to spot the sillhouette of a man with a something on his back.

Celeste grinned and waved. "Uncle Cotton! I made a new friend!"

And as Ratter moved from the shadows of the door and the dim light of the church, Colton got a better look at the pair. And he really didn't like it.

"Celeste, get off that poor man's back and come over here."

Celeste frowned slightly. "His name is Whistle," she muttered, before tugging for down.

Hah.

No.

"Finders keepers, kid."

And Ratter grins, showing teeth. Pointy teeth.

"Me and Celeste are friends now."

Ratter is only smooth and sweet with humans - he saves arrogance (or servility, depending) for other vampires.

"You don't want to leave your friend Whistle, do you Celeste?" That had power behind it, the power of a Nephim who had been at this for forty years, give or take. He doesn't have the power of a century-old ancient, but he knows he can take out this fledgling if it comes to that. And he has enough power to overshadow the mind of a mortal child.

He steps back, fading fast. Shadows are his friends. The girl fades with him, unnaturally fast compared to the amount of light there is in this place. Fading is a lovely skill, wouldn't you say?

Colt didn't like the look of the man when he came in, and he sure as hell wasn't liking him now.

Celeste looked confused, sitting on Ratter's back. Confused to a point of no return. "Puhme down! PUHME DOWN RIGHT NOW!" She didn't like Whistle anymore.

But she didn't have a choice. Seconds later, by way of Whistle or Colton, she was asleep. Colton didn't want her witness to this. That was his logic.

"So you're Nephim." Colton reasoned out, eyes scanning over the shadows. He looks lost, but sure of himself. Kinda like, 'If I knew where you were, I could take you.'

"So if I find you and my niece, do I get to play for keeps?" Colton was searching for Celeste. Ratter, no. That would eb a hard connection to form, but if he could sense where Celeste's mind was, he'd be able to find them both.

Or, at least find the only one of the two that mattered to him.

"O'course I'm Nephim," Ratter murmured, voice sourceless, mental only "Best coven out there, by far." He sounds like, and he is, grinning "And what're you, mate? Besides stealing my dinner."

C'mon. 'S bad form to steal a man's dinner.

Ratter is moving, constantly, shadow-flitting around and around the church, girl a flicker of thought behind him. He's just playing with the younger vampire, really - teaching him some respect for his elders. If he wanted the girl to live, he should turn her, and as Ratter said - finders keepers, especially if the finder was more powerful.

And the girl was a tasty morsel.

Colton grinned, tracking Celeste. She flickered in, and out, and Colton knew he was a step behind. Ratter wasn't much older than Colton, in the scheme of vampire years. It was fighting a character like Nicodemus or Liatha that made you question your strength. Fourty years? Pssh. Nothing.

"Nephim too, buddy." And now Colton's grinning. Grinning like the cat that caught the mouse grinning.

"Guess what the kicker is. I'm the Nephim leader." He let that sink. "If you really like being Nephim, I'd suggest putting my niece down and showing your hideous ol' face so I can beat the shit out of it, accordingly."

And Colton folded his arms, no longer pacing, but standing in the center of his church. If Ratter wanted to dart around all night, fine. He'd be happy to watch the punk vaporize in the morning sunlight.

Wait, what?

This requires... delicacy.

The girl materializes, not even falling far enough to hurt as she lands. Perhaps a shadowy hand prevents her from hitting her head on the way down. Perhaps it's just a trick of the light. She's still asleep, I suspect.

"You have got to be fucking kidding."

Normally, the author disapproves of swearing.

Ratter feels rather strongly about this, however.

Please note that Ratter's still Flitting, because he doesn't feel like dying, thanks.

Colton watches Celeste appear, unscathed, and his work is done. He strides over and picks her up gingerly, and holds her tight to him. It's obvious that he has a weakness, and that's the safety of his little girl.

"I wouldn't lie about that." Well, maybe he would, if it meant the safety of his niece, but he wouldn't continue lying. Too easy to be found out.

"Go ahead, ask around." And he's still smiling smuggly, only now he's enjoying it, because Celeste is safely with him.

"Point."

And Ratter materializes, sitting against a wall.

"You could have said." Ratter's actually kinda pissed off about that.

"Make the kid wear a nametag or something."

Now Ratter has to find a different dinner - though actually, the girl was more a convinience than a necessity. He wasn't that in need of a fix - yet.

Colton's still grinning. Still semi-lording it over this disgusting character. "I could have said, but then I look cocky. And, if you had been some mortal? Oh, just think of the damange I could have done..." And Colton sounded more gay than cocky, but whatever.

"The kid should be home with her father." Colton grumbled. "Where did you find her...?"

Back to concerned parent.

"Kid, arrogance don't come into it. You've got every Nephim worth spit behind you. Take advantage." God knows Ratter would, if he were a leader.

"As for finding, the subway. Sweetheart liked my harmonica playing. Said she ran away." She flattered him, I think. He really does like the child, even without the eating-her bit. She's an innocent. It's a rarity.

Colton smiled. A false smile, really. Well, no, not false. Unsure. "Half of them aren't behind me. No one thinks I can do a good job leading a coven. I'm too young."

And wasn't that the truth.

"She never really learned how not to talk to strangers... Gets her into quite a bit of trouble..."

Something started playing an overheard "Flight of the Bumblebee" tune, and Colton stuck his hand into his pocket. He picked up his cell phone, and scowled at the caller ID.

"Yes, Stephen, I found her."

There was a buzz from the other end.

"No. She's not going to stay with you tonig--I don't care if you're her father, you do a shitty job!" More angered buzzing. Colton hung up, mid buzz. He powered off the cell and smiled again to Ratter. This time, it was a fake smile. He wasn't happy.

"How I hate modern technology..."

And he stormed out of the church, Carrying Celeste in one arm and shoving the doors open with the other. And off into the night.

((I just kinda ended here so that we could do the other thread!))