"Yar have to blood 'em early, gives 'em a taste for it."

Those words were uttered into the gloom ad those mismatched eyes of blue and green continued to linger upon the little Lynx kitten, no more than a few weeks old, as it toddled over that rapidly cooling body that lay strewn across the stone floor in one of the many back rooms that made up the bar Darcy so called home. That dead Were girl had been well passed her used by date before Darcy had plucked her from the depths of the dungeon below. To weak to stand. To weak to fight. To weak to drain any more blood from. Her veins had been very nearly dry from weeks spent as an unwilling donor to their vampiric clients. She no longer had value. She no longer had use. Darcy content to make her a plaything for his pet in her dying hours. His kitten had been to young and to small to make that kill herself and yet, ever the doting parent, the vampire had done most of that work for his 'Princess'. The kitten merely presented with that dead body to play with as it cooled. What blood Darcy had been able to squeeze from the dead girls veins pooling upon the floor now. Risque had gifted him that kitten upon the condition he train it sufficiently so as to impress her. Darcy unwilling to displease his lover in any sense. His very being near crafted to please Risque in everything he did. His new pet no exception. That vampire near obsessive over that little kitten if only because she had gifted it to him like a treasured trinket. Further proof he was by far her most favoured- and oh how he relished that. Dangerously so. His utter obsession with his Mistress, his lover, his Risque as potent as ever and fueled even more so by those affections she lavished upon him in turn. "Did you have to do it all over the fucking room? I have to clean it now.".

He had nearly forgotten Ian, the vampiric bartender leaning upon that pile of empty crates beside him. The man's own gaze watching that kitten near impassively as Darcy lent away from the wall to stride across the floor, ignoring the other man for now as he crouched down beside that still-warm pool of scarlet liquid that all but shimmered in the faint light of that otherwise dark room. He ran his fingers easily through that heated red spill, those bloodied tips pressed gently to the little kittens mouth until she near instinctively licked, Darcy quick to paint that blood across her tongue with a murmur of satisfaction. The small creature shifting to lap a little at that blood off her own volition now. A decidedly dark grin dancing upon his own features a moment. Darcy rarely inclined to smile without reason. Those wickedly large fangs flashing within the gloom. Good. The sooner she had a taste for it the better. The best ones were always blooded earlier. He would find her something small enough for her to kill herself in the coming nights. Then he would teach her to submit. To obey. Then and only then, he would present her to Risque to judge his efforts. His words uttered towards Ian then.

"Mind Prin for me, I'm goin' out."

A single finger extended, rubbing agianst the Lynx's mottled head by way of reward for her efforts before his hand wrapped around her once more, lifting her up as he stood. Ian scoffing readily. "I'm not minding a fucking kitten, Darcy. I've got-." The rest of those words were all but drowned out by that near feral snarl that tore itself free from Darcy's throat. Ian having the audacity to hiss in return as he attempted to scramble backwards and yet he was far, far to slow to stop the hand that clamped around his throat like an iron vise. Ian slammed forcibly back into the wall. How little air his Undead companion needed to live and yet that choking sensation was as uncomfortable for a vampire as it was a living being. Those desperate gasping sounds readily filled the air then. Darcy pressing further and further, his fingers digging about within that flesh for the rings of trachea that made up the man's throat before steadily beginning to crush them. His gaze shifting lazily toward the kitten in his other hand.

"Do yar see dis, Princess? Dis is what weakness looks like. Dun be like dis."
"Darc.........please.......i'm....sorry."
"Look Prin, if yar squeeze 'arder it makes sounds. Like a toy."

His hand squeezed a final time, bruises blooming along the other vampires neck as those blood vessels beneath all but exploded from the sheer pressure- before Darcy abruptly released him. Ian tumbled with gasping pants to the ground, his hands instantly lifting to cradle his throat. Risque would be irritated if they needed to hire another bar-keeper. Darcy's unwillingness to displease his lover perhaps the single and only factor so keeping the other man alive in that moment. Risque's very whims so often the proverbial leash that restrained his violent intent. His mismatched gaze hardly offered the vampire another look. Ian, in turn, submissively turning his head away now as he struggled desperately to breath. Darcy gently placed that Lynx kitten down atop the nearest box as Ian attempted to utter several rough, hoarse words. His throat too badly damaged to in that moment to form them.

"See dat no 'arm comes to me kit while I'm out. What? Yar tryin' to speak? Can 'ear ya. Shame 'bout that."

Fucking idiot. Darcy strode easily from that room then, the door slammed behind him as he moved into the depths of those dark corridors that made up the maze beneath Syn. The dark haired man navigating them with ease as several other vampires scurried like insects to get out off his way. Risque would be occupied with work until well after midnight, several of his own games not due to start for hours yet, leaving him that singular gap of time to....amuse himself. That hunger that burned at his throat was enough to prompt him away from the bar tonight and its bottled blood. Darcy desiring something far more....heated. It had been several weeks since he had last hunted properly. It hardly took long for his lengthy stride to carry him away from the West and into the South. Darcy hardly fool enough to hunt where he slept. The leather clad vampire drawn instead to the largest collection of warm bodies he could scent upon the air. That Beachside Bar and Bistro. How quaint. He had not been here before.

How readily his very demeanor seemed to shift like a shadow itself. That dominant edge so leaving his figure. His walk shifted to something easier, more casual, his hands tucked loosely into the pockets of his black jeans as he shrugged that black leather jacket off to merely toss it over his shoulder and reveal that navy blue shirt beneath. One hand lifted as he strode through those doors, running through that dark brown hair to let it fall haphazardly, almost boyishly, into his eyes to catch at his long lashes. Darcy, in that moment, appearing no more then he looked. A young man of twenty five with a grin as bright as the lights of that bar itself. His boots scuffing lightly at the floor as he dodged neatly around a waitress.

"Sorry, Ma'am."

How readily that colour flushed to her cheeks at that crooked smile he offered. The waitress, as so many did, doing a near double-take at the sight off his eyes and yet how temptingly that blood danced just below the surface of her paper-thin skin....as if he had almost summoned it. Rich and fresh and so right for the taking. How dangerously that murderous intent simmered just below the surface of that carefully constructed mask. Darcy every inch the predator and yet one veiled so perfectly beneath that veneer of Southern Gentleman, boyish youth and falsified innocence. It is the girl with pink hair he notices first. Human by far his favoured taste outside off the ever illusive Fae. As if his body craved that humanity it had lost so long ago. A desperate hunger he could never quite sate. She was a pretty thing- even if she paled in comparison to his beloved Risque. Though all women did. His lust reserved for his Mistress alone and yet his hunger was far less discriminating. How readily that pink hair seemed to demand she be noticed. How impolite it would be to ignore it. Those mismatched eyes near glowing in a heedy anticipation before he adjusted his course to stroll toward the young woman and the bartender she laughed so freely with. He could smell her from here. That warm grin her offers the pair as much a part of that ruse as it allows him to near taste their scents on his tongue.

"Evenin'. Is dis seat taken?"

He gestures loosely to that stool beside the young woman then, waiting for that very approval before easing himself into it. Darcy already aware of that bar-tenders gaze upon him. His distinctly unusual doubled teeth, much like his eyes, rather difficult to ignore. The young man rather incapable of hiding just what he was. Darcy easily feigning that look of bemusement, as if he had only just now realised what that fucking moron of a bartender was staring at.

"Oh! Dun mind me teeth. They a lil different ta most vampires I know. They actually more a problem den a help if ya can believe it. Eatin' an apple? Damn impossible."

That ready chuckle hummed softly from within his throat once more. That easy nature so designed to lessen and sooth the steady thrum of their hearts. To coax them into that belief he was not threat at all. His attention turned to that young woman beside him then.

"I ain't seen hair like dat before. You'd be a 'ell of a sensation where I'm from."


d a r c y
and i'll stay alive, just to follow you home