Lonesome... [PG 13]

[Anzeh]

Caramel Makkuro

[/blockquote][/blockquote][/center][/font]

Caramel was walking down Market Street all by her lonesome at sunset. This time she was not barefoot but wore little sandals that she wiggled her toes in with every step, her bunny Simius in her arms. People, tall people were walking back to the castle because it was getting dark and when it got dark then the vampires came out to play. When the vampires were out then bad things happened. But Mel didn't know what a vampire was really. All she knew was that they were bad, but not the kind of bad that Mommy and Daddy taught her was good, the bad kind of bad.

But Mel wasn't sure what that meant exactly.

So she walked around the Market Street and saw all the pretty buildings and people. Finally it was dark and she looked around, confused as to why it was suddenly dark when she realized that something was missing from the sky. Oh no! The sky lost the sun! Without the sun she didn't know where she was. Everything was so changed at night.

So after mustering up her courage she hugged her bunny and walked down the street in her dress, a pretty powder-blue dress that her mom had bought her. Her mom had also bought her barrettes and other things like that, but she didn't understand the function of those things, so only wore her dresses and nothing else. When Mel had asked about clothes all she'd learned was that it was supposed to cover your body so other people were comfortable. She didn't get it exactly, but learned that when human you must wear clothes. Mel didn't like clothes, but it was hard to get close to a victim as a 3-headed viper thing, so she suffered in her little sleeveless dresses.

Yet... they were supposed to cover the body so if anything was already hidden from view she didn't quite understand wearing more than was neccesary.

Her feet were getting tired, so she climbed onto a nearby bench to rest and swing her feet and talk to Simius about how strange everything looked bathed in darkness.

[ωΘĿƒ]

It was so goddamn odd. He was sure it was night right now. He was also sure that post people didn't like night too much because of the general implications of night in a vampire village - and yet every night some idiot made it by the skin of his teeth. A lot of times it was just kids playing chicken. White liked that game. You put yourself in such a ****ing stupid situation that you're first impulse is to run, yeah? Then you dangled your exit to this situation right in front of yourself and ya sat there, just out of reach of getting away. The point was to stand there, just so you were about to be impaled or burned or whatever, for as long as possible before you got too chicken**** to stay there any more. And if you were dumb enough to stay just a second too long? Well... that there depended on what kinda situation you were in.

If you were about to be impaled, ya got a skewer through the back. If you were about to be burned, you'd most likely be crispy. Anyways, the thing about chicken was it was usually something really bad that happened to you if you weren't fast enough to know when to leave.

So back to his point. White liked chicken. Chicken was a good game, because every once in a while, when kids played chicken in Colleger they were too damn brave their their own good, and we all know what happens then...

Fun stuff. This was kinda like that, because he was sure it was night and yet he could smell something distinctively living still in town.

Naturally, he was curious about this. It was about one of the only things he was curious about generally, and even then the slow, calm way that he walked down the street likened him to some kind of old guy taking a senile stroll through memory lane. Just watching White walk would be ****ing boring. Probably put you to sleep.

Noticing the bench far before noticing the person on the bench, White tried to remember what he knew about that bench. Lots of history around these parts...

Oh yeah. Hadn't he shot someone on that bench? Pretty sure it was during the original takeover of Colleger - real long a go. Something about a sap story? Kids, a wife, a dog...

Whine, whine, whine. People really needed to learn when to shut up. The guy was half way from telling White his whole life story when he kinda just lapsed out of focus for a sec and squeezed too hard on the trigger. That shut him up quick.

Almost getting lost in this memory - the very semblance of the old, docile man that he seemed to look sogoddamn much like - White barely noticed sitting down next to the little girl.

"Kinda late," he said, simply. Not much else to say to the kid.

"Wanna know a funny story about this bench?"

[Anzeh]

Caramel Makkuro

[/blockquote][/blockquote][/center][/font]

Somewhere between talking about the cover of darkness and when she started to hear the voices again Mel had completely changed the subject of the conversation with Simius. They'd begun to talk about the sound. The sound was any noise that she heard that she ignored. And the voices mimicked the sound back to her all the time to alert her of impending danger attached to the sound, and it became a string, almost like a song of sounds that had tried to hurt her and were silent now.

She looked up and noticed movement, but went back down Simius. After a moment she looked up again and hit her shoes together. Danger was flashing in her head, but she could see no imminent danger. So she sat and watched the shadow, watched for movement until there was a man sitting next to her, Simius was alive to her, and in her child's imagination he seemed to be acting like a guard rabbit.

But he was just a stuffed animal and he couldn't protect her, so she would have to protect herself and him, wouldn't she, if it came to that? That was a lot to ask of someone who, technically, had yet to turn 2.

When he said something about the bench she examined it looking for something that would indicate that there was a story to be witnessed on the bench. Eventually she shook her head. "What happened on the bench?" She asked, patting her stuffed animal.

[ωΘĿƒ]

There was a specific reason he didn't get up at the crack of dusk - he got so damn sentimental. Looking around at the town he'd founded, he could see anything he'd ever done of importance. Out, farther away from the bench where the street widened into a little bazaar of shops, he even remembered that little play he'd staged with Crane about a year ago.

Yup, that had been fun. Got the whole town together for one long scene of night of the living dead. Guess he was pretty good at acting too, because the kids Crane had been trying to rally up had fallen for it and everything. Of course, that was done with Crane, and Crane's plans always were so detailed and deceitful. Goddamn mastermind if he ever stopped daydreaming long enough...

White had always gone for the simple stuff himself. The Colleger Massacre? That was a two-step plan. Step one: get to Colleger. Step two: clear our the natives and move in. And it hadn't taken so long or so much effort either.

In a single night, everything was cleaned and buried and dried and fed on. Wouldn't have even known there was a skirmish.

"Hmm?" he hummed, not really remembering what he'd said.

Oh yeah. The bench. The remembered the bench.

"Oh, well I was this fight, and this guy takes out this huge wooden stake," he said with only a bit of life injected into his normally calm, rich voice. He even held up his hands to show how big the stake was. "We fought for a bit and then he got me real good in the chest - went right in between the ribcage and everything. Well I get this guy real good in the leg, and he happens to fall on the bench. Would have got back up too, but his leg was broken, so he's laying here, trying to talk me out of fighting instead." White shrugged. "But I got 'em in the end. I won."

This was a very simplified version of what had happened, but it was all there. The guy had hit him first, but White kinda figured that's what you did when a bunch of bloodsuckers suddenly started to slaughter everything in sight. Seemed like a natural impulse to grab a piece of wood and stab at anything that came close for dear life. And he had too. ****er had some good aim... but White had snapped his leg like a twig and he got real gentle after that. Funny, how most people were willing to cooperate when they were in pain.

White smiled an old, simple smile. That was funny, wasn't it?

"You really shouldn't be here, kid. Too cute to be wandering around alone."

Shifting now, slowly because he really wasn't all that awake at this hour, White eventually knelt down next to the little girl, just a bit of that smile still left.

"Why don't we go somewhere warmer so you don't get cold sitting here?"

Oh, what a dirty, ugly thought that is... You know if you think it so loudly everyone can hear it.

"The ****...?"

White looked up, very confused because last time he checked he didn't hear any voices. Never had, really. Wasn't one of those bat**** crazy freaks that ran around talking to themselves all the time. And as it turned out, he wasn't starting today.

"Coyle." White clicked his teeth together. "...Get out of my town before I drag your tentacled ass out myself."

"Oh! And a dirty mouth too... There are children here, White. Children that know nothing of that word and its implications..."

White was standing now, literally looking down at the bony little freak standing next to him and staring at him with those glaring green eyes. ****ed him off when Coyle tried to scare him with those eyes. The things were more like headlights blinding him than anything else...

"Last chance," White said evenly. "Leave."

Coyle's fingers grew long, spindled like spider's legs as he curled them together, still smiling up at White.

"You're not a fan of Rosewood, are ya big guy?" he asked, the color of the long appendages chainging from red to black to blue, then settling eventually on a varnished wood color. No prizes for guessing what that was...

White simply lit up a cigarette, overlooking Coyle completely and glancing over at the little girl briefly before attempting to say anything.

"...You wanna duke it out over a scrap like that?" He exhaled a thick vapor of smoke.

"That scrap is mine." the little guy's fingers flicked up as if shocked with electricity, then very slowly each curled back up but what remained of the index finger. It poked White right in the chest. White snapped it off without so much as a blink.

"You threatening me with chopsticks, Coyle?" he took another draw, tossing the piece of wood away "If you're gonna do fire next, I'll need another light soon."

Without any concept of pain from his lost digit, Coyle once more had five wooden needles on each hand. This time he kept them to himself, if only for a moment.

"Mine, White. As in my responsibility. My descendant. My child..."

White stopped mid-exhale, looking for something to say to that.

"No, you have a boy," he continued his breathing. "And I heard he's a cute little bugger just like his daddy."

Coyle made a face, fingers clinking together as he moved them.

"I'm too old for you, White; but you can play games with me any time you like."

The thin wooden needles lashed out again, but this time when White reached up to grab them, Coyle curled a thick black tentacle around his arm, holding it in place while he applied the needles. Needless to say that **** hurt, but White did his best not to grind his cigarette to a pulp as the very long, thin needles dug in and burned.

"...I'm a big fan of games," the beast snickered. Now that he was in, Coyle didn't need the tentacle. Just the thin slivers of wood would do to keep White in place. Wouldn't want to break any of them and have those splinters stick in there... It might be hard to get them all out.

Very carefully, and without moving his right hand, Coyle moved in front of White, left hand held high at first but slowly tracing its way down until it reached its original place - White's chest.

"You know I could probably hit all the major veins and arteries without actually doing anything to the heart... That would be neat, wouldn't it?"

As if to demonstrate, Coyle's fingers made a circle of points, slightly oval shaped. "Of course, that's just an estimate... I don't really know where people's hearts are!"

White, much like Coyle, kinda had his heart set on not moving - literally.

"You're left about an inch," he said sorely, smoking even at this more serious turn of events. In fact, With the way Coyle was standing in front of him and all, White just couldn't help but breathe out a thick swathe of smoke right on top of him.

"And anyways, what's a few splinters? You want I should get a slushy machine and **** the hell outta you one day?"

Unpleasant as even the very thought of this was to Coyle, he still stayed on track.

"Alright then, White. Since you're not getting the fun version of this, I'll give you the blunt one..."

He flicked his wrist, breaking the needles in his right hand and thrusting his left hand forward. White narrowly avoided the sharp spears of wood, and with his hand free he pulled out his favorite kind of gun and locked the aim at Coyle's head. Coyle ignored this and instead continued on.

"You come near my daughter again and I'll nail you to the floor with silver before playing amateur acupuncturist for a while... Got it?"

White's gun hand was a bit shaky considering how many shards of wood must have been stuck in there. And yet, he was pretty sure he was just a bit faster at pulling the trigger than Coyle was at doing his phase thing.

...so it was a hell of a shame that he decided not to get in a fight with a godlike demonic entity over one little kid.

White sighed, tossing the gun from one hand to the other and holstering it as he let his other arm hang at his side.

"Sure. Fine. Always nice talking to ya, Coyle."

As the beast happily went to go pick up his kid - apparently it was his kid, but hey, he wasn't arguing with the guy that stuck needles in people's arms for fun - White vaguely considered something.

Yup... That sounded fair to him.

Taking aim with his other hand, White put two bullets in Coyle's head and three in his chest. The way they were designed, the stuff did just about what Coyl'es little girly finger things had done.

They shattered on impact, making a hell of a lot of mess to pick out of yourself for hours.

White sighed again, this time with a smile and a holster of his gun.

"Good luck with that."

[Anzeh]

Caramel Makkuro

[/blockquote][/blockquote][/center][/font]

Caramel listened to the story with great attention, waiting for the funny part to happen. A stake? The little female instantly thought of the meaty kind that she'd seen her mom eating sometimes. They smelled really good. But... it was a wood steak. Was the man trying to beat this strange person with a wood steak? Ooh. That was strange... If she had to beat someone up with something she wouldn't choose a wooden cut out of a steak. Mel would choose someone heavier.... like a rock or something.

Then he brought up that she shouldn't have been here alone. She took one take up the street and one take down the street and decided that yes, she should make her way home now. The man also said that they could go somewhere warm so she didn't get too cold sitting here. Now that she thought about it, cold was that word that didn't mean hot, wasn't it? Like the water at the lake that had to stupidity to not be hot. If it wasn't hot it was cold.

Before she could say anything, he said something odd. The ****? Ooh. That was interesting. Maybe she could use that sometime.

Then she heard a voice. A very familiar voice, Daddy's voice! What was Daddy doing here? She scooted off the bench and her little shoes hit the ground with a soft tap noise. Looking from left to right, she found Coyle and smiled, moving away from the bench as he talked to the other man that she had met today that told her about the bench and wooden steaks. Hehe. Wooden steaks. It was so ridiculous that it made her giggle quietly.

A lot of stuff happened that Caramel didn't really understand, like the thing with Daddy's fingers and the man pulling out the strangly shaped device and pointing it back at Daddy and they fought about something... maybe it was her?

But the other man--whom she still didn't know was a vampire because as I said before she didn't know what in the world a vampire was--said something about children. He said that Daddy had a boy. So did Daddy have a son? So then she had a brother? But it was weird, Mel had never heard about Daddy's other kid. Maybe the man with the strange device was lying?

After a while it was all over and she smiled, and moved over to her father opening her mouth for a jubilous call of 'Daddy' when she heard the gunshots.

They were loud and surprising and scary, so as soon as she heard them she jumped away, falling on her back and squeezing Simius for dear life. Once her eyes stopped ringing she looked up and looked around, wondering if the loud noise would come again. When she heard nothing the little hybrid got on her feet and looked at Coyle for a moment.

[ωΘĿƒ]

Turning away from White with a pleased, toothy smile, Coyle's one track mind immediately turned to Mel - his child. His daughter. His lovely little baby girl so sweet that she had been named after a candy.

Coyle was not a loyal, loving, caring creature at all. He did not understand nor appreciate the value of such qualities - however, from the first moment he'd seen Mel, he knew only one thing about her: She would never be touched by anyone. She would be his forever, and anyone that did not understand this would be shown the utmost in patience and deliberation from him.

And for Coyle to be patient... Well, that was a special occasion whom only the very best deserved. White had almost made that list. Almost. Luckily for him, he'd been a smart, sick, lazy ass and had walked away.

With the same sadistic smile he'd used to utter such sweet words of threat to White, he now turned on Mel, his hands held out towards her.

"Aw honey, you scared me!"

He reached out to pick up his cute little hellspawn, when suddenly he changed his opinion of White.

Oh no... If he saw the sick son of a ***** now he'd have a whole playdate scheduled for him...

Well, that was his second thought in the matter. The first was something along the lines of...

"**** OH MOTHER****ER THAT HURT!"

The slight, childish form of the beast shuddered with pain then collapsed on the sidewalk, spasming with little, jerky twitches.

Okay... so little known fact Coyle wasn't a pain person. He much preferred giving than getting... and White didn't know that but he was SURE whatever he'd been shot with wasn't normal bullet metal! The bastard had made something extra painful to inject into anyone he aimed at.

Damn persistent bloodsucker... Coyle went systematically through a list of swear words from every walk of life and every planet he could think of, mumbling them out at such a rate and with so much severity that eventually the intense, searing burn of whatever it was White had spiked his bullets with went down. Then he got up, still *****ing and moaning - and crying just a bit too - to look for where the vile little leech had gone.

And... he hadn't stuck around. Coyle sniffled, sickly green eyes blazing a horrid pale glow on the streets in front of him. Yes, the vampire would die horribly. Him and his town would burn in agony with a fire of black flame...

Oh! Right! He had a daughter!

Coyle turned around, rubbing the tears out of his eyes and smiling again for little Mel.

"Ah... Honey that was a very very bad man. Not the good bad, but the bad bad. If you see him again tell daddy and he'll cook us up a nice stew of the bad man's flesh, okay?"

Coyle's physical form had healed the wounds, but the shards of that stuff were still in there somewhere. Concentrating only a little, he rejected the scraps of... something... and they wrinkled out of the back of his form like shards of glass dripping out of liquid water.

"Aragh... I'm in a bad mood. How about ice cream before we go home, Mel?" Coyle asked, now being able to pick his little girl up without being shot repeatedly around the head and organs.

It was a good feeling.

Taking one last look around, Coyle vacated Colleger Town. He did not need anything here, nor would he visit it much - and if so, only to hunt down something that's head should be rightfully mounted above Mel's bed.

Oooh... That would look nice actually!