((Here be the tale of Finn's Embrace...

[u:aabe2dc775][b:aabe2dc775]January, 2000[/b:aabe2dc775][/u:aabe2dc775]

Sleeping rough was nothing new to him.

He stepped off the Greyhound and sucked in a smoky, sooty lungful of city air. The city smelled not enough like anywhere new, and too much like the city back home. He shouldered his rucksack and gruffly thanked the bus’s driver, not looking over his shoulder as he did. He was travelling lightly. A few pairs of shorts, jeans, a shirt that could pass for dressing up, and a pair of remarkably neatly pressed slacks. A second, all but new pair of shoes swung by their laces from the rucksack’s straps. Grunting he walked out of the bus depot, steeling himself against the acrid, chill wind that scattered the papery, cigarette butted, polystyrene footprints people left in their wake. The sight didn’t surprise him. Styrofoam cups, half filled with something that resembled piss, but was more likely heavily rain-watered streaks of cold coffee, dancing with the toss-away newspapers of the previous day.

His eyes didn’t register the almost careful placing of a newspaper against a wall. Not recognising the near-deliberate gesture of a particularly irksome gust. He needed something hot in him, that much his stomach was sure of. So accepting the fact he trudged to a gleaming vending machine, feeding it with coins before lifting it’s foam cupped excreta with his free hand. Sipping at the sharp, false tasting liquid it had brewed in it’s plastic innards.

He hissed as the coffee, stronger than diesel, burnt his tongue.

[i:aabe2dc775]“Tastes like shit, don’t it?”

“And then some.”[/i:aabe2dc775] He found himself confronted by a gruff, rag wearing figure that with the proper attention would resemble a man. But to all and sundry, it looked like shit in ruffles.

The figure nodded with a drunken cheerfulness.

[i:aabe2dc775]“New huh? Take my advice. Go back the way you came. This city’ll chew you up and spit you out. Things here are held together by city spit, ya know? Big hawky, phlegmy...”[/i:aabe2dc775]

[i:aabe2dc775]“Alright Bocephus. Move along. The youngster doesn’t need to hear your shit so soon.”[/i:aabe2dc775]

A second figure seemed to rise from the spaces between the paving slabs. The faded, but still dignified uniform denoted that he was a security guard. The unnarmed sort, Finn was used to seeing back home. But still a figure of self importance. Finn restrained the snort of disdain before it fled his pluming nostrils.

[i:aabe2dc775]“S’ok kid. He doesn’t mean no harm. Just a little crazy is all. If you’re looking for somewhere to sleep for the night, try Old Ma Pooks. Just keep walking along 3rd. Take a left into Caffrey’s St. And it’s three blocks up. If you‘re looking to stay longer...don’t.”[/i:aabe2dc775]

The guard smiled, though Finn suspected the smile hid something. It wasn’t just concern the guard’s tone carried. It was a curious resignation, a solemnity. As though he’d given up and wanted to keep others out of that trap.

Finn nodded cheerfully.

[i:aabe2dc775]“Thanks. And yeah, I was thinking of staying around a bit. But thanks fer the advice.”[/i:aabe2dc775]

The guard nodded. [i:aabe2dc775]“Don’t say [b:aabe2dc775]we[/b:aabe2dc775] didn’t warn you.”[/i:aabe2dc775]

Finn decided to listen to the first segment of advice. The guard's use of the plural was lost on him. He sipped at his steaming brew and walked, somewhat quickened, in the directions the guard offered. Behind him, growing fainter by distance, he heard “Bocephus” greet another new arrival. The words becoming indistinct as he reached the turning.

The city sprawled up and around him. It had the look of a place built on bad foundations. The rigid, steel and glass architecture jutting out like healthy teeth standing on rotten gums. The older, more Gothic buildings filling in the gaps like stumpy molars. It gave him the ominous feeling that given a blind eye, the city looked to devour him. Smashing and tearing him into little, gristled morsels. He shivered at the thought, supposing that the crazy talk of Bocephus had spooked him rather than amused.

The traffic here seemed to stagnate. He’d experienced bad days travelling back home, but there was something different about this one. He crossed over, rounding the corner at Caffrey’s smiling a little at the name, before upping his stride. The reassuring weight of his bag gave him some limited comfort in this alien vista.

His bag suddenly leapt from his shoulder like a frightened cat. He spun, falling sharply to the sidewalk with a thump. His head whipping round to see two kids sprinting up the street and out of sight. His brain told him not to waste time shouting, though instinct and righteous anger urged him to. They were gone, along with all of his belongings in the time it took his arse to hit concrete.

Grumbling he shook himself off. Standing somewhat deflated he padded his jeans for his wallet. It had stuck by him loyally. He received some consolation from that and walked past the next two alley-ways resigned to spend the night at “Old Ma Pook’s”.

The alleys seemed to slit open as he approached and past. Closing like the giant eyes of an ambush predator as he walked alongside them. Once or twice he caught something just out of sight. Shapes moving in the growing darkness the city walls ushered in. Figures, he thought. Skulking, watching. Something wrong about the way they moved made his skin crawl. It tugged at him, prompting him to walk faster purely so his flesh didn’t outrun him.

[i:aabe2dc775]“Sorry son. We’re full. Last room went ten minutes ago.”

“You’re kidding. I’ve got to have somewhere to sleep. I’ve just been robbed. And it’s getting cold out there, fast.”

“Wish I were.”[/i:aabe2dc775] Old Ma Pooks was a sober looking old sort. She had a matronly feel to her. Thick rimmed glasses, bird-like eyes. Her flowery, cheaply bought dress made her look more like a frumpy old aunt than anyone’s mother, he thought.

[i:aabe2dc775]“Can’t I sleep in the lobby then? I’ll pay.”[/i:aabe2dc775] He was pleading.

[i:aabe2dc775]“Sorry honey. House rules. Can’t go breaking them or I’d have Tom, Dick and Harry asking. ‘s a shame. You could try the shelter. It’s near Finsbury Park.”[/i:aabe2dc775]

[i:aabe2dc775]“Okay. Okay. Well thanks anyway. Finsbury? Okay.”[/i:aabe2dc775] He nodded defeated.

The possibility of sleeping rough for the night seemed ever more prevalent.

-------------

The bird scratched it’s curving black face on the streetlight. It looked down onto the street, disc-like brown eyes turning this way and that as it looked for something to appease it’s curiosity. The greasy-blue-black feathers that crowned it’s head seemed to gloss over as the figure stepped out into the night stained street. It cocked it’s carrion head thoughtfully before cawing raucously.

Finn looked up, alarmed at the sudden animal sound. He’d heard nothing of the sort since he got off the bus. Strange that a crow would stir so close to dusk. He swallowed the surprise however, and winked back at the intrigued, feathered, vedette.

[i:aabe2dc775]“Hello to you too. Bit cold for you isn’t it? Shouldn’t you be in bed?”[/i:aabe2dc775]

The crow blinked.

It shook itself as though agreeing with him then cawed again. He stopped in his tracks as it lifted from it’s flower-like tower, watching as it flew over the iron railing that housed the park Pooks had spoke of. It continued to caw as though urging him to follow before the park’s more rooted residents blocked his view.

[i:aabe2dc775]“G’night bird.”[/i:aabe2dc775]

Finn looked at the gates, then at the growing mass of homeless seeking the limited safety of the shelter gathering at it’s doors. He tightened his jacket, fastening it and pocketing his hands before he walked into the now tar-black patch of greenery. His shoes crunched on unseen crack vials as he headed across the park. The illuminated familiarity of the streets becoming candle-lights as he hustled on his way.

He could see others making the same, desperate exodus. The ghost-like faces of those streetborne for much longer than one night, ashen and grey faced at the prospect of another cold night. He watched them with peripheral vision, their own eyes twitching and alert. Senses sharpened by the fear of being raped, or murdered, or worse while they slept.

Safety was definitely in numbers. But you had to be one of their numbers to get anything of the sort out of them. He shrugged at the cold, defying it, before settling his eyes on a remote bench. It sat far enough off the beaten track as to be invisible from the path, hidden by a copse of bushes. He walked sheepishly over to it, pulling the contents of the nearby trashcan out in a bid to find something to bolster his comfort. A ratty old picnic blanket shone like a godsend. Holes let the wind through in places, and it stank of stale alcohol and all too fresh urine. But it was better than nothing. He screwed his face up, pulling it up around himself and sat shivering. Sleep wasn’t difficult considering how his day had been. The cold crept up from his feet, infecting each cell it encountered with an instinct to agitate, to shake. His body striving to generate warmth. As the park became night, his eyes closed. And he slept, peacefully, for a time.[/u]

[i:e1f9d3b987][b:e1f9d3b987]ooc: [/b:e1f9d3b987] :shock: Absolutely breathtaking!! [/i:e1f9d3b987]

((Toasty's always had the knack to hook ya....and always makes you wait an eternity...POST, MAN, WE LOVE THIS!

[i:21ef1d90b6][b:21ef1d90b6]“God, please no!”[/b:21ef1d90b6][/i:21ef1d90b6]

Finn jumped at the sound of the scream. He fell from the bench, his face cloaked in his acquired blanket. Scrabbling it clear of his eyes he looked around himself.

Had he dreamed it?

[i:21ef1d90b6][b:21ef1d90b6]“Someone! Help me! Please...”[/b:21ef1d90b6][/i:21ef1d90b6]

The scream’s sequel had been cut short. His heart thundering in his chest, he stood, still clutching the blanket. Dropping it his hand disappeared into his pocket, searching for something he could use as a weapon. Nothing.

He wasn’t a hero. Someone else was bound to intervene, weren’t they?

A distant sob answered that question for him.

There was someone out there being hurt, maybe killed. At the very least he had to do something.

The street lights that dotted around Finsbury Park barely impacted upon the gloom that had descended. He squinted, but no amount of concentration could pierce this blackness. He began to work his way through the tenebrous rivers of night that washed the park clean, each step tentative but determined. Terrified, perhaps, that putting a foot wrong would have him dragged away by the all-too-visible ebony currents.

[i:21ef1d90b6]“Where are you!? Hello? Can you hear me!? I’m coming! You’re gonna be okay!”[/i:21ef1d90b6]

[i:21ef1d90b6]Yeah right.[/i:21ef1d90b6] He thought. [i:21ef1d90b6]I can’t even see my feet. How am I supposed to save someone else?[/i:21ef1d90b6]

A second mumbled cry stilled his movements. The sound ceased again. But it was definitely closer. He squinted, his pupils dilating, trying to make the most of what little light there was.

Something moved close to the ground, ghost-like. It seemed to cling to the grass. A moan assured him that he’d found the victim.

[i:21ef1d90b6]“Hey. It’s okay. You’re safe now. Hey shhh I’m not gonna hurt you. What happened.”[/i:21ef1d90b6]

He crouched as he moved closer, his hands reaching out for the terrified figure. The figure flinched, the shadows parting to reveal the muddied curve of a leg.

[i:21ef1d90b6]“Miss? Can you hear me? Here, take my hand.”[/i:21ef1d90b6]

The woman’s sobs lessened, becoming more of a mewling. He tried to take her hand, his eyes widening as his hand became snared.

The mewling, plaintive cry became a dark, throaty chuckle.

[i:21ef1d90b6][b:21ef1d90b6]“Gotcha!”[/b:21ef1d90b6][/i:21ef1d90b6]

He tried to pull away. But she held his wrist impossibly strongly. The sounds of others giggling made him start to panic. Sweat pooled on the small of his spine as the hand holding him tightened. It was cold! Colder still, the fingers of her other hand found purchase on his jacket, sending him sprawling to the grass behind him.

He scrambled up. His throat burning as he sucked air in hard, cold lungfuls. She’d disappeared. The darkness seemed thicker now. A horrible false anti-light.

[i:21ef1d90b6][b:21ef1d90b6]“What you want to do with him, AV?”[/b:21ef1d90b6][/i:21ef1d90b6]

A repellent gurgling sound answered the woman’s husky, lust-filled voice.

[i:21ef1d90b6][b:21ef1d90b6]“Why. Eat him obviously.”[/b:21ef1d90b6][/i:21ef1d90b6]

Finn’s breathing stopped. [i:21ef1d90b6]High on crack. Must be![/i:21ef1d90b6]

[i:21ef1d90b6][b:21ef1d90b6]“Mmmm. I bags his neck.”[/b:21ef1d90b6][/i:21ef1d90b6] A third, male sounding voice spoke up excitedly. The gurgling voice accepted the request.

Finn bolted. He couldn’t see where he was going. And he couldn’t see if they gave chase. But his heart thundered and his feet followed suit. He ran blind, both with terror and lack of light. In the distance, farther than he’d remembered walking, he saw the street lights of the entrance to the park. Hope bolstered in him, he drained the air around his head. Gasping loudly, panting.

A rustle to his left had him spinning in fright.

Then they were upon him.

He shrieked, flailing at them. Their invisible hands pinning him. Unseen feet kicking him, weakening him gradually. But he fought on, desperation driving his muscles beyond their design.

[i:21ef1d90b6]“Get off me! Get the fuck off me!”

[b:21ef1d90b6]“Little bird doesn’t want to play, AV.”

“Good. The blood tastes sweeter if they don’t.”[/i:21ef1d90b6][/b:21ef1d90b6]

He felt something on his leg. A pressure that sharpened until it reached a warm, wet crescendo. The sensation crept earthward from his leg, cooling quickly as his mind realised it’s identity. A second pressure pushed upon his left arm as he was held down by their combined weight. The sickening crunch of teeth penetrating his flesh made bile rise to his throat. Then the third assault was upon him, a mashing of teeth upon his neck. Grinding where the others cut. Dragging his skin open rather than slicing. He tried to scream, but it only bubbled as bloodied bile suffocated him. His eyes dulling as the three monstrosities still unseen feasted upon his very life.

((:shock: I-I'm not scared....

AV stepped back, wiping his maw free of the torn gristle and cvlotting blood that dripped ichor-like from his amorphous chin. He gargled something illegible to the woman who stood wreathed in shadows that kissed and stroked at her feet.

[i:da929cd58e][b:da929cd58e]“What was that, AV?”[/b:da929cd58e][/i:da929cd58e]

He revealed himself in full then, a hellish molten parody of a man.

[i:da929cd58e][b:da929cd58e]“I said. Let’s move before that old bastard sees us.”[/b:da929cd58e][/i:da929cd58e]

A crow landed on a tree branch overhead. It looked down at the three vampires with a look that was almost pity. The third figure pulled back his hood to reveal a strikingly feminine face.

The woman, Tenet, stared slack jawed at her hooded companion.

[i:da929cd58e][b:da929cd58e]“Too late! Janus!”[/b:da929cd58e][/i:da929cd58e]

Janus cocked his head in confusion.

[i:da929cd58e][b:da929cd58e]“What you mean, too late? Too late for....”[/b:da929cd58e][/i:da929cd58e]

He was jerked backwards suddenly, the flap of heavy cloth dominating the silence. There was a tearing and popping sound as Janus’ neck was twisted. A gush of vitae skewered the cold air as the androgenous Kindred’s skin was breached. He didn’t even have time, nor the ability to cry out, before he was gone. His body starting to smoulder.

His killer vanished again, his passing only heralded by the crow’s caw.

[i:da929cd58e]“I told you to leave, AV. Weren’t you listening?”[/i:da929cd58e]

The voice was rough. Whispered and hoarse. Like broken glass being dragged over old leather.

AV’s milky, swollen eyes darted.

[i:da929cd58e][b:da929cd58e]“We were just having a snack before we left!”[/b:da929cd58e][/i:da929cd58e]

[i:da929cd58e]“You took too long.”[/i:da929cd58e]

Tenet had never seen AV look this scared.

[i:da929cd58e][b:da929cd58e]“AV? What is it? Who is that?”[/b:da929cd58e][/i:da929cd58e]

The oozing Nosferatu barked back.

[i:da929cd58e][b:da929cd58e]“He’s nothing! Just an old mongrel that won’t stay out of my face!”[/b:da929cd58e][/i:da929cd58e]

He turned to look at her, his eyes flaring, dripping with moisture as she choked. The fist that erupted through her chest from behind opened, extending barbs and claws along it’s digits before pulling back viciously.

[i:da929cd58e][b:da929cd58e]“AV?”[/b:da929cd58e][/i:da929cd58e]

She dropped to her knees before something cloak or wing like enveloped her. A slurping, chewing sound preceded her ash from falling from the gap between the cloak-wing and the ground.

[i:da929cd58e]“Nothing? Is that all I am? You had your chance, AV. I’ll make it quick.”[/i:da929cd58e]

The cloak slithered back revealing a figure. A play of light revealing a faded US Cavalry insignia on one of the coat’s shoulders.

[i:da929cd58e][b:da929cd58e]“Listen. Porter. Give me an hour and I’ll be gone. I swear!”[/b:da929cd58e][/i:da929cd58e]

[i:da929cd58e]“Oh I know. You’ll be gone sooner than that boy.”[/i:da929cd58e]

Porter stepped closer, blinking his one eye.

-----------------

Finn clung on. His body was dying. But his mind still refused to. A quote he’d read in one of his grandfather’s books flashed through his mind. It seemed to numb him a little from the pain that was erasing his cell’s one by one.

[i:da929cd58e]“It’s not death if you refuse it. It is if you accept it.”[/i:da929cd58e]

He winced a little as his ears rang with screams. Fearing they were his own. But they were not. A few yards away, the monster that was AV was screaming. And the figure, cloaked by night and cloth was laughing. Finn’s eyes opened weakly, rolling blind in their orbits.

((great writing Frank'n'beans! btw, if that's OLD Porter, what time is this in? Finn's supposed to be a few years old right? so this was what...three or four years ago?

Ummm look up lol

It's January, 2000

((lmao...ok, ok don't blame gabe, i had read the date too, prolly, but had totally forgotten it was there

[i:c4881046da]The crow hopped to his side. It was looking down at him, it’s long pointed beak moving in a mimicry of speech. But the words were human nevertheless. It told him to get up. It told him it was watching him. It told him it’s name was Kiongozi.[/i:c4881046da]

Finn’s life was leaving him as quickly as his heartbeat would permit. He had no strength remaining to allow sound to open his lips. His death, it seemed, was inevitable whether he denied it or not.

Porter turned his grizzled face to the crow. His voice scraping up his throat.

[i:c4881046da]“What the hell are you babbling about? He’s just another Kine that got curious and stupid. AV were marked already.”[/i:c4881046da] He growled as the crow cawed in reply.

[i:c4881046da]“No I didn’t! I was hunting AV. This kid was just in the wrong place at the wrong time....”[/i:c4881046da]

The bird flapped it’s wings in a feathered retort.

[i:c4881046da]“Yeah yeah. You do that. You know, sometimes I wonder why I let you follow me around, Kion.”[/i:c4881046da]

Finn’s ears trembled....[i:c4881046da]Kion...gozi?[/i:c4881046da]

The bird squawked drawing a snort from the Gangrel’s ancient weathered face.

[i:c4881046da]“What [b:c4881046da]are[/b:c4881046da] you talking about? What’s gotten you so excited about this boy? Grah! Turn him? What the hell for?”[/i:c4881046da]

Kiongozi cawed again, more insistent this time. Well, it sounded more insistent. Whether or not a bird can insist on something is anyone’s guess. Regardless, Finn believed the former.

The old, cyclopean Gangrel shook his head. Finally in reluctant agreement. [i:c4881046da]“Okay! Okay! Enough already! Sheesh, anything to get a minute’s peace!”[/i:c4881046da] He dropped to one knee, inspecting the boy’s soon-to-be corpse.

He turned Finn’s head from side to side, checking for signs of life. If the boy was dead it would make things quicker. But things were never that simple. A faint pulse echoed along the boy’s throat drawing an irritated sigh from the unshaven, earth stained face that scrutinised it.

[i:c4881046da]“He’s still alive. Sorta. You sure about this?”[/i:c4881046da]

The crow answered him impatiently. Resolutely, he nodded.

[i:c4881046da]“Different. Yeah right. Dumb bird...”[/i:c4881046da]

He opened Finn’s eyes, they were glazed with the onset of death. A milky coat that made the blue of his iris appear silver. Finn would have groaned if he could. Forced to look on as he was prodded and studied. Porter looked down at Finn with a sudden and profound sympathy that caught him off guard. He didn’t reply to the feeling though, instead he opened his mouth extending yellowed-aged fangs.

He struck like a rattler. Pulling Finn’s body closer as he bit with more savagery. He sucked in cruel mouthfuls of the human’s remaining pockets of blood. Before letting the body fall gracelessly to the earth.

[i:c4881046da]Finn could feel nothing. He didn’t feel yet more fanged pressure ebb his life away. He didn’t feel the remnants of his blood being drawn out of him. Siphoned by a grizzled monster into its own furred gullet. He could only await the inevitable as death opened before him. Could only sob in his soul as he was pulled towards a cold, dark nothing.[/i:c4881046da]

Porter drew a pencil thin line on his own wrist with the tapered edge of a claw. He grunted as Kion landed audibly alongside the boy’s head, tapping it gently as if afraid it might spill yolk.

[i:c4881046da]“Clear off bird! This is the important part. If he’s too far dead, it won’t work. So if you want him so bad, beat it!”[/i:c4881046da]

Kion ignored his companion’s jibes.

Porter poked at the body’s lips. Opening them, he squeezed a few drops of vitae onto his finger and smeared it on the corpse’s tongue.

There was a flutter of movement.

He opened his wound wider, willing the precious liquid to move, to pour. Satisfied that it was in fact flowing rather nicely, he pushed the wound into Finn’s lifeless open mouth.

[i:c4881046da]Finn stopped in his tracks. Ahead, the ferryman waved. Beckoning him. But something had happened. The cold was still prevalent, but the darkness was lifting. It was becoming pierced with faint lines that seemed to be tugging him back.[/i:c4881046da]

He wasn’t convinced.

Porter growled repeating the impatience his corbie colleague had voiced earlier.

[i:c4881046da]“Drink it you little idiot!”[/i:c4881046da]

[i:c4881046da]Finn felt the lines of silvery light retract, one snared him and he felt the tug on his heels. Ah screw it, he thought. Why fight it? I’ve fought enough already. [/i:c4881046da]

The body, previously lifeless, leapt up. It clung to Porter’s arm and the mouth once motionless, started lapping, sucking. Inhaling the cold salt of Porter’s blood.

Finn pulled it in, his diaphragm spasmed. His dead internal muscles contracted and expanded. He wanted it. He screamed in his head, he yelled out his desire to survive. And something, somewhere answered his cries. The fire began in his belly. It started to spread. A curious conflagration that raced along his cells, slapping them into a new, unexpected sequence of reactions and responses. Porter tried, eventually successfully, to end the baby vampire’s suckling.

Then he sat. Cradling the thing he’d given “birth” to in his lap. A strange smile on his face as the crow watched from afar.

Finn started to waken. It was that warm not-knowing feeling just after waking and just before awareness. He wasn’t sure if he was at home in his parent’s house in bed, or whether he was sleeping in some cheap motel room. He didn’t know if he had even been sleeping, or whether he was still dreaming. He groggily opened his eyes and realised with awful certainty that he was lying in an abandoned dumpster.

[i:c46b0d6cf2]Now I know I’m dreaming.[/i:c46b0d6cf2]

He rolled onto his side, a crumpled styro-foam burger carton pressed into his cheek. He thought the very idea of lying in a dumpster clearly full of rotting, half eaten food would make him retch. But it didn’t, which surprised him. Almost as much as the way he seemed able to trace the scents around him to their sources. He sat up, ducking his head to avoid thudding it on the side of the container, his hands reaching around in the black....

Wait a minute. He could see. He looked at his hands, although grubby, he could see them. Yet he instinctively knew the inside of the dumpster was pitch black. He picked at a slice of cold, mouldy tomato that had found purchase on his other cheek and touched it tentatively with his tongue.

There was an explosion of taste in his head. He could taste the mould, the relish that had long since been picked clean by bugs and bacteria. He placed the slice in his mouth and tried to chew, to swallow. Then he spewed it back up.

[i:c46b0d6cf2]Hmmm must’ve been the mould.[/i:c46b0d6cf2]

So he tried again. This time drinking the flat, time-stilled contents of a fizzy drinks bottle.

He gulped it down, coughing violently as his physiology rejected it.

Then he realised.

[i:c46b0d6cf2]“Well. This is new.”[/i:c46b0d6cf2]

[i:c9dee6dd89]“You up yet boy? It’s getting late. You’ve had a lay in. Now let’s get up and get things started.”[/i:c9dee6dd89]

He grimaced as the shout from outside reverberated through the steel container. He thought he recognised the voice, a thought that was affirmed as he crept out of his metallic coffin into the chill night.

The monster. The thing that had saved, then damned, then dragged him back to this new existence. Stood. Waiting and watching. It’s one green eye unblinking as he crawled to his feet.

[i:c9dee6dd89]“Excellent. You found the door. That’s a good start. At least we know you aren’t brain damaged.”[/i:c9dee6dd89] Porter smirked.

[i:c9dee6dd89]“Now we see if your quick.”[/i:c9dee6dd89]

Porter bolted. He moved impossibly fast. All Finn could make out were a sequence of blurs. The figure seemed to blink in and out of existence. But in actuality he was simply moving faster than Finn could see.

[i:c9dee6dd89]“Well if he can do it...”[/i:c9dee6dd89]

He got up. He put one foot in front of the other. Then he speeded the action until he was running. He ran harder and harder, trying to catch up on the fleeing figure ahead. The figure stopped and stood arms crossed, waiting expectantly.

Finn kept pushing himself. He didn’t notice the fact that he wasn’t panting for air, nor that fatigue wasn’t tripping him. Instead it was his “father’s” foot.

Porter grinned darkly as he stopped at the edge of a waterway. The manmade waterway that carried flood water away from the streets. He put his right foot out in his Childe’s path and watched as he went tumbling head over heels onto the concrete.

Finn looked up, a disgruntled, vexed look in his eyes.

[i:c9dee6dd89]“That’s lesson one,”[/i:c9dee6dd89] His father whispered. [i:c9dee6dd89]“learn to walk before you can run.”[/i:c9dee6dd89]

Two nights had passed since his first lesson.

He was sitting in a drainage channel fed by a nearby sewer. He was nursing a bruised thigh and an even more bruised ego. His "father" had ordered him to stay in the channel while he hunted. Like all precocious children, Finn wasn’t keen on the idea. He heard a scratching coming from the sewage pipe. A scratching he would recognise as that of a rat’s claws on the cylindrical concrete.

Kiongozi, who it seemed, never slept. Landed noisily making the rat’s approach pause.

Kion cawed as quietly as he could.

Finn looked over to the bird and felt himself at ease again.

[i:d79db3febc]If you can hear me, tap your foot.[/i:d79db3febc]

Finn’s eyes grew huge. But he tapped his foot nonethless. The voice was obviously an echo of an inner desire to tap his foot. Wasn’t it?

[i:d79db3febc]No it wasn’t. I spoke to you once before. The night you were...born. Look at me when I’m talking to you.[/i:d79db3febc]

Finn turned his gaze to the crow.

[i:d79db3febc]Yes. I’m talking. Or rather our minds are. You’ve got something of Porter’s gift it seems. It’s nothing much, but it’s there.[/i:d79db3febc]

Finn frowned.

[i:d79db3febc]You’re wondering if you’re insane. Well you might wish you were, but you aren’t. He didn’t want to Embrace you, you know. He did it because I asked him to. Like I said he has the gift. Of the gab so to speak.[/i:d79db3febc]

The crow, Kiongozi, “spoke” like he should have had an accent. British certainly. But Finn couldn’t place the region it’d originate from.

[i:d79db3febc]Go on. Ask me. Why I had him “make” you?[/i:d79db3febc]

Finn raised an eyebrow.

[i:d79db3febc]Well. I see something in you. You have potential. Oh, here comes the rat.[/i:d79db3febc]

Finn waited, watching the open end of the pipe expectantly. The rat emerged, brown face first, nose twitching as it studied the two shapes watching. Finn was surprised, something that was becoming less common, that the rat didn’t flinch when he moved closer.

He crouched to bring his face on a more even keel with the rat’s. Concentrating he tried to speak to the rodent visitor.

[i:d79db3febc]Good evening.[/i:d79db3febc] He thought. Trying to be as polite and warm as he could. [i:d79db3febc]How are you?[/i:d79db3febc]

He looked at the rat. The rat looked at him. It scrunched it's nose all of a sudden and squeaked. The squeak, alarmingly, sounding [b:d79db3febc]ALOT[/b:d79db3febc] like [i:d79db3febc]piss off.[/i:d79db3febc]

The rat skulked off, grumbling it seemed.

A shrike landed opposite Kion, quickly becoming a man that thought he was a wolf that thought he was a man....oh whatever.

Porter smiled at Finn's disappointed expression.

[i:d79db3febc]"That's lesson two. Not all the animals will [b:d79db3febc]want[/b:d79db3febc] to talk to you.[/i:d79db3febc]

((this is so cool