'Are you done?' Risques words seemed to echo within that silent space. The night and darkness having suddenly become near eerily quiet in the wake of his outburst and yet....how violently that energy still seemed to be within him. Those turbulent emotions twisting and turning like vipers within his veins. A pot upon the very brink of boiling over once more. Darcy was surrounded by that destruction of his own making. Those shattered graves were but a mere fraction of what he was capable of and yet their destruction symbolized far more than his ability to shatter stone with his sheer strength alone. He was oblivious, in that moment, to Risques very presence as she lingered like a sultry, femanine shadow of darkened perfection just outside of his view. His mate having wound him tighter and tighter and tighter before finally having all but unleashed him upon that gravesite to do as he would. Darcy, as he so often tended to be, remained all but unaware of her very hand in this and those violet emotions she coaxed to life like the embers of a roaring flame set to erupt. How expertly she tugged at his strings. How readily she fed off his violence. How unfortunate she had no other enemy for him to destroy tonight when that fevered want for violence raged within himself so potently. There was nothing he would not have fought and defeated at that moment. That hum of power around his very figure was nothing short of rich, vibrant and dangerously deep.

Risque's words, somehow, seemed to find purchase within the red raged oblivion of his mind. He was aware of her scent, her voice,her approach as she seemed to glide across that earth toward him. Her words like devil's whispers within his ears and yet oh how willing he was to answer them. How willing he always was. For her. He owed her.....everything. Everything. Her fingers pressed agianst him then. Risque, in that moment, the only being upon that very earth whose touch he would have permitted.Her hand alone the only one he would not have struck out agianst. Those lessons, after all, had been ingrained within him more than a century ago. To bite the hand that fed would be....foolish in every sense. Besides, it was not her his rage was directed towards. No. She was the one whom had allowed him access to this power to begin with. She was everything- and she was right. She always was. Those very words were all but muttered from his lips then as Risque so boldly assured him she knew of her own rightness. Her fingers continued to trace up his spine. His skin all but rising in response to her mere touch as if further seeking that caress of her hand. That violence and...sexual energy seeming to collide all at once within him then. Want and need and anger and hunger were so seemingly unable to decide just which was in control within him. Yet- there was but one final task left. One final grave to destroy. Risques whispered words drew his gaze towards it. Darcy assured he could feel her intent within his very soul in that moment. He needed to destroy it. That single and final piece. How hardly he hesitated then. Her command the final drop of fuel to the fire as vampiric power and raw energy seemed to combine into one. Darcy delivering a roundhouse kick with enough force to turn that stone into veritable dust as it exploded in a shower of tattered history and torn memory. The final memories if his family had been...obliterated. No record of them existed any longer. The way it should have been.

The broken, uneven footfalls of the caretaker were all that distracted him then as Darcy near pivoted upon his heel to stride towards the unfortunate man like a being possessed.That violet energy and potent range all but leaked from his very pores. That caretaker very near trembled before him. Even his feeble, aged bones so able to deduce that Darcy lingered on the veritable edge of tearing him apart with his bare hands. The paper and pen the man had brought was all but snatched from him. Darcy taking no more than a moment to sign his name at the bottom of that title deed. The last time he would ever sign that name. The Southern vampire was oblivious to his mate's surprise at that moment. Risque so clearly having failed to anticipate his actions and yet that reasoning fell from his lips but a moment later. This....would hurt his father the most. To give that Ranch away. To see it in the hands of another. Clancy would rather it have been destroyed then that. Darcy, even in death, refusing his Father that satisfaction. There would be no rest in peace for Clancy. Not now. The sight of that bottle within his mate's hand seemed to draw his attention once more then. The Caretaker (by some mercy) all but forgotten as he reached for that moonshine with that word of thanks towards the vampiric queen. How or when Risque had grasped that bottle he hardly knew and yet here and now he craved that taste more than blood itself. That cap was unwound with perfect ease. Darcy lifted that drink to his lips before beginning to down it like the very SOutherner he was. Fuck but that taste was strong. Just like he remembered it.

Darcy strode back down that hill and toward the waiting truck, the engine revved to life at his silent command and yet, even in his current state of inebriated outrage, the man moved to open that passenger side door for his mate. It simply would not do to have Risque be made to wait. The vampiric Queen arrived moments later only to take her seat within the truck with feline grace. The book she had demanded was nestled atop the rest of her purchases on the back seat before Darcy offered her that moonshine to try. Mary-Beth might have been a useless dolt of a woman- but that drink was hardly half bad. Darcy's feet found the accelerator as Risques lips found that bottle for the first time. His mate's sudden hiss of disdain was met with a near curious look from the vampire. Darcy managed to avoid a tree by mere inches before rocketing back onto the road. Risque's insistence that drink was akin to pain remover prompted the faintest of simper to his lips. For all his lovers' insistence that drink was 'vile' she continued to sip at it. That- was the magic of moonshine. It made you forget how bad it was. It made you forget how bad anything was.

"Shine only got one purpose Darlin', an ta taste good ain't it."

The sudden appearance of what Darcy was assured was a racoon on the road saw the vampire swerve. He hardly cared about mowing that creature down. Rather, he had no desire to clean guts off of the underwisde of that car. Risques sudden declaration that the racoon was a mailbox prompted his mismatched gaze to shift briefly towards her. The woman adamant she had no desire to die in a fiery wreckage within that outfit. Risque, like Darcy himself, content to forget that Ranch entirely. As if it had never existed. As if it had never happened. How...fucking thankful he was for that. The vampire slowed that truck ever so slightly, his obedience towards his mistress, at least, still distinctly intact even if several of his senses had begun to find a new sort of haziness. Risque spoke suddenly then. Darcy, in an effort to further forget the...shit that had been tonight, focused his attention upon her entirely. Risque lamenting about the lack of fine glassware- before that note of sharp irritation found her. Darcy, somehow, was inclined to find an almost sense of....calm in Risques irritation. In her voice. In her presence. The vampires' own rage beginning to simmer down. Soothed by that familiar conversation and burning liquor.

"Her 'usband's a fool to. Day suit each other. How long day been married?"

Risque had known Mary-Beth for centuries. The woman had been married already, he was sure, when he had first been introduced to the pair those years ago. Had it even been years ago? Maybe it had only been last week? Time, somehow, had been decidedly fluid to the vampire. Darcy was forced to fixate near firmly on that road to prevent himself running off it as Risque continued on, scoffing at the caretakers words, before announcing that Moonshine had no effect on her. A singular glance sideways assured him Risque was...swaying slightly- or was that the car? Was he driving crooked? Maybe. Maybe it didnt even fucking matter.

"You'll 'ave ta tell Mary-Beth 'er drink ain't worth sellin'. If we can't even get drunk of it den it ain't no good."

Risque sat up straighter momentarily before leaning back within the seat at his mention of that party they had agreed to go too. Why Darcy simply did not turn that car around he hardly knew. That promise he had made somehow seeming....important. Risque's insistence she wasn't dressed for a party drew his gaze once more.

"Yar always look damn fine, Darlin'. Always. Besides we 'ave ta go to dis party. Yar can't say it den not do it in da South. What yar say yar'll do yar gotta do or people come round callin' ya are wuss all yar life. Yar got wuss's in France? We used to 'ave more of dem out 'ere. Yar know what happened to em? We shot em."

That conversation made little sense and yet within his mind it somehow seemed....important. When a man said something in the South- he stuck by it. Ain't no man going to call him a wuss for backing out of a party. Darcy's head shook ever so slightly and yet Risques mention of hunger and blood seemed to remind him of his own thirst once more. If this town had a vampire in charge then surely.....surely there would be blood right? Proper blood. It was hardly a far drive to that location Clay had given them. That barn in the middle of the wheat field exactly as he remembered it. He could hear the music from here. Those double barn doors were thrown open, light spilled out into the field. Fairy lights had been hun above. The scent of smoke from the bonfire beside the barn filled the air. The barn itself, he knew, would be filled with rows of long tables, hay bales for seats, the women baking and cooking, the men drinking and laughing while children played underfoot. God. It even smelled like he remembered. A part of him, once, might have been almost ashamed for Risque to have seen this and yet....she had already seen the shit house he had been born in. Was this any worse? Darcy pulled that truck into park beside a bay mare hitched to the fence, the animal eyed them curiously before Darcy swung out of the truck. A rush of vampire speed saw him appear at the passenger side door as he opened it for Risque.

"Careful of da 'orse. I dun like her look."

Darcy's gaze narrowed slightly at that mare. The animal merely flicked a single ear in response before Darcy attempted to guide Risque around it all the same before the Cowboy led the way towards those open barn doors. Several of the men around the bonfire called out to him, Darcy merely waving his hand in some loose gesture of greeting, their faces all but blurred by smoke and....blurriness. Darcy' head shook again, the vampire stepping closer to his mate all the same leaving no one here in any doubt that she was with him. That territorialism so hardly having faltered. The presence of so many other male vampires hardly lost upon him. In fact, that crowd seemed to be a near equally blend of human and vampire. The scent of blood permeating the cloud of smoke and horse and goat and hay. Darcy and Risque paused at the entrance to that barn then. Another man, dressed in the cleanest, neatest black jeans and a red and black plaid shirt stepped forward to pass them. Darcy, entirely unable to see his face beneath the large cowboy hat he wore, merely glanced down to the black boots, fitted with silver spurs. Those spurs carved into the shape of...where those unicorns? Spurs like that didn't come cheap.

"Dem's some nice boots, fella."
"Merci, Mon Amie.

The other man merely tipped his hat as he strode passed. Darcy's mind decidedly slow to recognise those French lyrics as Risque beside him turned so suddenly fast he was near assured the woman was about to tumble over. She seemed a little...unbalanced.
"Dat fella sounded kinda like you, Darlin'."

That man had disappeared into the crowd of others. Both vampires left peering into that smoke filled night air before Darcy merely moved to lead the way further into that ban. The vampire no sooner having stepped within, with Risque beside him, then an abrupt cheer seemed to resound from within. Clay rushed forward then, the vampire stepping over a loose goat, a crawling toddler and two men having a heated argument about beef prices. Darcy! You came and you brought your missus! I told em you'd come. I want yar ta meet Roscoe. I told 'im all about ya. Come on. Clay moved to lead the way between those long tables then, several of the women seated at them glanced upward to eye Risque with clearly critical eyes, more than one muttering as they passed. Fucking closed minded fools. Not one of them had a body like Risque did- and din;t they know it. For every woman that stared, at least three men did. Darcy inclined to feel his metaphorical heckles bristle as they were led towards that large table at the head of the room.The man seated at it was distinctly a vampire- and by far one of the largest, most muscular men Darcy had ever seen. Roscoe, when standing, would have been at least six foot seven. The burly man was dressed casually in jeans, a leather jacket and his own cowboy hat. The female vampire who rested beside him was far smaller and lighter. Her mahogany hair matched her dark eyes. She seemed almost familiar. Clay's voice rose above the music then. "Roscoe! This is da guy I was tellin' yar about. He was born an bred 'ere. Dis is 'is mate. Darcy, dis is Roscoe, he runnin' dis town now and dats his mate-"

"Kasey."

Darcy's voice cut Clay's short. Each of those vampires merely staring at one another for a moment before a subtle, near sultry grin found Kasey's lips. The woman glanced towards Rosco before her gaze returned to Darcy and Risque. Darcy Blackjack, well if it ain't been a damn near century. I thought you was never comin' 'home. Dun worry Ros, I know dis one. We go waaaaay back. Dun we Darcy? Whatever words Darcy had been about to offer were all but short by Roscoe abruptly standing and thrusting his hand towards him and Risque in turn. If your fine by Kasey then your fine by me. I've heard all about you Darcy. One of Jakin's originals. A legend in his own right this one- and you must be Risque was it? Clay told me. Sit. Sit. Bring them something to eat, something proper. They could use a feed. How very aware Darcy was of being upon another vampires territory. Clay, despite his almost....friendly appearance so clearly held command here as another vampire appeared suddenly with a pitcher of what Darcy knew instantly to be genuine blood was placed before them, along with several glasses. Kasey leaned forward then to pour like a...dutiful Southern housewife. Vampire or not those gender roles within the South were clear. Risque having already stepped boldly out of them with her appearance alone. Those glasses were passed to them then, Darcy quick to down his. God- how he needed that. Roscoe's voice rose again. "Now how is it that you know my mate, Darcy? Speaking of which, Risque, my dear, you are a vision."

Oh...how dislikeable he was quickly beginning to find Roscoe.

Fight so dirty, but your love's so sweet
Talk so pretty, but your heart got teeth