The world was a near blurry...haze. Flickers of light, of sound, of sensation seemed to appear within that overwhelming blackness and yethis mind failed to seize upon any of them. Darcy, in that moment,was oblivious to the world around him. Nothing existed within the darkness save the....burning within his side. A burn that was rapidly beginning to spread throughout his body like wildfire, singeing and scorching in its wake. That very pain prompted a low groan from the cowboy. The world,for the nearest moment, seemed to shift into a momentary focus. The scent of Risque was all-too prominent. Even within that distinctly broken state he was aware of her. He could feel her. He was certain. Almost as if he was being carried and yet his mind was entirely unable to understand hat logic as the blackness threatened once more. The world again seemed to spin and shift as that pain worsened. He could hear them. Vampires and cats alike. He could smell blood and tears and flesh and sweat and then.....nothing. Silent. Silent and....cold. He was cold. Colder than normal. His very figure seemed to shudder involuntarily, each instinctive shake prompting a soft, sharp sound from his lips as his side protested that movement before, suddenly, there was....softness. Soft and still- and warm. Or warmer at least. Where...was he? His eyes felt thick, heavy and entirely unco-operative and yet the southern vampire nearly forced his mismatched gaze to flutter open. His vision was blurred, scattered and yet he knew the sight of the bedroom. He was...in bed? Risque's scent seemed to wash over him once more, his gaze flicking to eye his mate beside him as his lips parted and yet- whatever words he had been about to utter faded in near the same moment as that ever-lingering blackness washed over him again. His eyes flicking closed. Was this what tired felt like? He didn't like this...tired and yet the idea of simply....laying there seemed almost....pleasant. Even if his side burned.

It was very near a half hour later that the door to that bedroom opened once more. Darcy,nestled within those blankets, seemed to drift in and out of consciousness. Little save groans of pain fell from his lips. The vampiric cowboy dangerously pale.His form seemed to sweat as if hot- even despite the way it shuddered from cold. Ezra had seen it before. He had seen everything before. This, however, was something of a rarity all the same. The decidedly short, youthful-looking vampire strode easily into that room. The bedroom door was closed and locked behind him to prevent any of the scavengers who lingered outside from picking clean what they had deemed to be the carcass of their Manager and Syn's dominant male. Hos very...mericliess vampiric culture was. A fascinating topic really and yetone he had little intent to study today as he strode across that room and toward the bed that held his patient. Risque, dressed in one of the more unique outfits he had ever seen the ravishing women wear,lingered at his bedside. How interesting. Risque cared for nothing and no one. Not until now. A mated pair. How curious. Somewhere beneath the hood of his cloak, Ezra allowed a toothy grin to find his lips. Matehood found them all eventually. One way or another. Risque had simply held out longer than most and there she stood upon the very precipice of losing the one she had finally chosen after all these years. How practically poetic!

Ezra reached to place his bag upon the bed beside his patient. His hands, with newly manicured nails- painted in a fetching matte black- reached upward to push back his wolf-eared hood. Allowing him a better view of the injured Ravager. That very act, however, so readily revealed his own unusual, shoulder length hair. Ezra's impressive locks were a blend of black and silver and white that seemed as supernatural as the man himself. His impressively green gaze peered out beneath a wealth of fringe- the length of which would surely annoy most beings and yet hardly seemed to bother the Shaman in anysense. Now. To properly examine his patient. The bed was.....higher then he deemed acceptable. A near cutting glance was offered toward Risque. This this only true sense of displeasure the young man was content to give before he was very near forced to climb onto the bed to better view this 'Darcy'. Men had not been tall in his day. A thousand years ago they had been short. A better size as far as he was concerned.

"Do you have the offending stake?"

Risque had been brief and business like upon the phone. A notion Ezra found he appreciated. The vampiric Queen was a most excellent client. She cared not for his methods so provicind they achieved results- and they always did. The pair had held an established professional relationship for many years. He had treated the staff of Syn and Risque herself on a number of occasions. She always paid her bill. This, however, was something different. It hardly took a moment for Risque to produce the stake that had impaled her lover, Ezra reached to take it from her, eyeing it with curiosity before placing it hurriedly upon the bed lest it begin to eat away at his own skin.

"I have my thoughts on the stake, but I will assess his other injuries first. He appears to be slipping in and out of consciousness, as such I am not entirely aware how capable he is of feeling. If I touch something sensitive he may start screaming. I would prepare yourself for that."

His words were nothing short of blunt and yet something near devilish seemed to dance within the vampire's green gaze. As if some part of himmight have delighted in the very sound as he reached to pull back those blankets- only to eye Darcy's wounded side. That wound still bled weakly and yet the flesh around it had already begun to turn black, the bruising extending in a purplish gleam upward. How deliciously macabre.

"Ooooooh."

Ezra's hands clapped together nea excitedly. The vampire reached backward and into his bag. A single small branch with several leaves was plucked from within before he began to wave it over that gaping wound as Darcygroaned (though whether of pain or annoyance at this point remained to be seen). How certain Ezra was he heard Risque's lips part, the woman surely about to interfere.

"This is necessary. I am cleansing the room and the wound of negative energy."

His emerald eyes glanced sideways-as if daring the vampiric woman to argue. He had never once failed to heal whoever she brought to him. Surely she could allow him to go through his process! Then again, this was her mate. The bond of mates was.....potent. Ezra remained distinctly aware of Risque in every sense as several words of the Old Language fell in whispered tones from his lips. Only once the vampire was satisfied was his branch placed back within his bag, a mortar and pestle drawn from it next. Ezra reached into the pockets of his cloak. Several berries and an assortment of leaves were placed within the pestle, the vampire speaking softly to himself before he began to diligently crush those ingredients as he sat cross-legged upon the bed. The green-eyed man was entirely absorbed within his task. Until the feel of Risque's gaze boring into him drew his eyes upward from somewhere beneath that wild hair.

"I do not hurry you when you work RIsque- so do not hurry me. I can tell you what's wrong with him though. He has a significant chest wound, several cracked and broken ribs, torn muscle and flesh trauma and I believe that stake has managed to graze the heart itself. The real problem though is the acid that the stake was soaked in."

Ezra gestured loosely to the stake resting upon the bed once more as he continued to work that mortar and pestle with abandon.

"If your 'Darcy' were anything other than a vampire he would be dead. Not from the wound- but the acid. This particular poison spreads throughout the bloodstream. It is a double-edged sword. The more Darcy heals, the more the poison spreads. His body cannot heal its wounds and fight the poison at the same time effectively- resulting in a weaker response to both. He heals and the poison ravages him again. Over and over. It is exceedingly painful and I suspect the reason he is unconscious. Too much pain and the body shuts down. He will overcome it though, vampires always do. It will, however, take days. I can give him some pain relief now and I will return tomorrow and the night after to offer more. The more he heals though the less effective the pain relief will be- such is the nature of vampires. I will stitch that wound closed though, wounds made from silver always take longer to heal. Inside and out."

The contents of that mortar had become liquid like. Ezra's gaze shifted downward to eye it critically before reaching over to place it upon the bedside table. His gaze, once more, shifted to Risque.

"I recommended offering him WereBlood, mixed with some of your own, if you're willing, to increase his healing. Frequent but small meals only and add some of what I have just blended to it. It will make him sleep more. Now."

Ezra shuffled slightly upon that bed, reaching for his bag once more only to pluck a syringe and small bottle from within. The vampire effortlessly drawing up that measured amount before reaching for Darcy's hand- his fingers glidin softly over the skin upon the top in search of a vein.

"I do like the stabby parts."

Those words were muttered entirely out loud and yet to seemingly no one in particular as the silvery-haired vampire grinned once more, a soft chuckle rising from within his chest before he pressed the tip of that syringe into the vein he'd brought to the surface. An undeniable skill within a vampiric patient. The sensation of that, however, readily prompted Darcy's gaze to flicker open. A distinctly low, deep growl, rose within the Ravagers chest. Ezra, for his part, simply continued to deliver that injection as Darcy's features suddenly softened slightly.

"See? It hurts less now doesn't it? And all you do is groan and complain and growl at me. No appreciation for my brilliance. I like your wound though. I'm going to look at it."

Darcy's gaze shifted from Ezra and toward Risque. That pain had lessened....dramatically. Whatever that ridiculous five foot nothing vampire ....man-child had given him was...working. It took several long moments for Darcy's mismatched gaze to adjust. That tiredness continued to press upon him like a weight and yet the faintest of simpers managed to find his lips, at last, at the sight of his mate.

"Did we win, darlin'?"

His words were almost breathless and yet that southern twang remained as potent as ever. Darcy, for now, hardly paid attention to Ezra as the vampire fussed at his side. Something...cold and wet brushed over his skin. Darcy afforded it little more than a sideways glance as the smell of antiseptic permeated the room.

"What 'appened ta Cade?"

Darcy remembered...running. Though how he had managed to reach Risque in time he still hardly knew. Maybe he hadn't been as far from her as he had thought? Those events within his mind hardly seemed....sensical. His gaze flickered once more, Darcy lips parting in a yawn before something stabbed painfully at his side. A sudden hiss spat free of his lips as his body jolted. Ezra's head rose to glance over Darcy's figure once more, holding up that needle and surgical thread.

"Oh for heaven's sake I barely touched you, boy! Clearly I need a little more numbing cream. Risque, if he bites me I will add to your bill for this visit."

The sensation of that cold cream prompted Darcy's features to wrinkle in disdain once more and yet the vampire hardly felt....anything upon his side after that. Save for Ezra's near menichal chuckling as he worked. That stitching, perhaps fortunately, hardly took long before Ezra lent back- declaring his work a masterpiece, only to pack his tools back into his bag and slide from that bed. The tiny man with his boyish features barely reached Risque's shoulder.

"My work here is completed. Do what I told you and he will be fine in a week or so. Stritcly bed rest for him. He is to participate in no physical activity of any kind for the better part of a week. I also recommended you stay with him as much as you can, Risque. Your position is not under threat- but his is. There is more than one vampire already waiting outside that bedroom door for a chance to finish him off while he cannot fight. The position of dominant male in this place is well sought after it seems. I'll send my bill."

Ezra reached to pull his hood back up and over his head, those wolf ears almost comical as he strode from the room, shutting that door behind him as Darcy made some effort to sit more....upright within that bed, the cowboy winching slightly.

"Darlin...I 'ave ta tell yar summin'"

Darcy's hand reached outward, catching Risque's own, his fingers threading though her own as his gaze shifted to eye that stake that rested upon the bed, the very one that had impaled him- the one he had thrown himself in front of in an effort to save the life of the woman he loved. His mismatch gaze shifted back to meet her own, those very words surely poised upon his lips.

"Im fuckin' 'ungry."

Men.

We are rough men and used to rough ways.