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But daylight did not house the dangers of the night, where someone as innocent as Ceridwen might soon fall prey to the dangers shrouded in darkness. However, Finvarra was not such a danger. Not, at least, to the fae-blooded child who traipsed merrily along the path, heedless of the denizens of the night. In fact, it was Finvarra's presence alone that kept Ceridwen safe, at the present moment. "I would not walk this path, if I were you," Fin said, separating from the shadows.

Even the most deadly of creatures hesitated in the face of a Disciple of Grendel. Endowed by his god's power, and by his own great age, Finvarra was a force to be reckoned with. And so it was that Ceridwen was quite safe, indeed... for as long as Fin willed it so. Since he so willed it, she might pass unmolested. Yet Fin saw something within her, some potential that gave him pause. "At least, not at night."

"You are being hunted, little one," Finvarra said, observing the frightened child with no small amount of pity. He knew what it was to be hunted, to be another's prey. Even a vampire as old as he had enemies. Perhaps especially a vampire of his age; one did tend to accumulate them as time wore on. It was not Marconius or his ilk that hunted this child. "While I am here, you are quite safe. However... you would not be safe on your return journey." Assuming he didn't simply play bodyguard to the fae-blooded mortal he had encountered. Fin had been known to be eccentric like that, from time to time. Perhaps he would be so inclined this time.

But there was something else that he could offer her. A dark gift that would ensure that the ones who hunted her might never hurt her. Fin disapproved, as a general rule, of those who hunted the innocent, particularly innocents who were as she was, the children of faeries. His own kin. "You and I are kin, child," he told her, as the thought drifted past. "As such, I would know what brought you to seek out the tavern on a night as dark as this one." Though he seemed to glow in the moonlight - and very well might glow in no light at all - Finvarra was keenly aware of the darkness of the night.

Darkness which concealed many dangers. He was her elder, by many, many centuries of life, but she was one of very few who held the potential to become his childe and a Maeghar. His clan was so small, so fractured, that a single drop of new blood would be welcomed. The Disciple wondered whether this child might consider accepted his dark gift. She could not know what he was, though he had significantly greater difficulty concealing his nature than did those of other clans and bloodlines. That he was a supernatural being was written in his every feature, to his detriment. Opportunities like this one were few and far between.