It was some sort of...hallucination. It had to be. Darcy's gaze flickered but briefly. His vision was nothing short of blurry and momentary before his eyes flickered closed once more. That pain was...all consuming. Every attempt to breathe was agony and yet his body seemed to desire that air all the same even despite its lack of need for something so mundane. Each breath the Ravager drew was shallow and yet it sounded loud to his ears. Everything sounded loud. Especially the silvery haired vampire on the bed beside him. The one waving a stick. A hallucination surely. Ezra's words seemed muted. As if the other man was far further away then he truly was. Thatrough, masculine sound was almost grating and yet Darcy lacked the...ability to silence him. Not when the wait of darkness pressed upon him with a welcoming embrace. Maybe he could just...sleep for a while. The sudden, far more femanine tones of his mate, however, seemed almost jarring within that blackness. Some part of his mind was inclined to respond to even the mere sound of her voice- even his body continued to fail him. The very notion that Risque was....nearby was....comforting. Even if he was hardly sure of exactly where she was. She was close. That was enough. She could take care of things while he had a...rest. Surely. His mind was near sluggish, his thoughts melding as his figure seemed unable to decide whether it felt hot or cold. Sweat seemed to run from his form in that same moment as he shuddered with cold. A bone deep cold. Something far different then the usual chill of that came from his vampiric existence.

Darcy was oblivious to that salve Ezra worked on. The man's words, once more, seemed almost distant as he offered that list of ailments to Risque. An endless, mindless droning of words Darcy was certain. He had never liked Ezra. Why was he even here? The vampiric cowboy's side seemed to burn once more in response to that very thoat. The faintest of groans parted his lips and yet even that sound seemed far away. Poison? That singular word, somehow, seemed to part that pressing blackness. That conversation around him became clear for a precious few moments as Ezra spoke of some...poison upon the stake and Risque questioned it further. Darcy's gaze flickered once more, Ezra's features some momentarily coming into view as the strange silvery haired young man frowned- his head turning to face Risque. "It will take at least a week and a half, perhaps a little more, before it cycles out from his figure entirely. He should be up and around by the end of the week but he will need to refrain from sustaining any serious injury for at least two weeks lest the poison take advantage of him again. I recommend light duties only for that time. He would make a pretty secretary for you."

Ezra's chuckle hissed into the air. The groan that left Daryc's lips, this time, so hardly related to the pain as much as it surely was the very presence of the silver-haired Shaman. Maybe that unconsciousness had not been so disagreeable. "As for the poison itself, it is Witch or Warlock made- and very well made at that. I suspect the maker either possesses an affinity for this type of craft or they are well-aged and decently powerful by Witch standards. The main ingredient is Wolfsbane, I suspect. Even a good healer would have trouble attempting to heal this away. You would need a Restorer. Though you murdered the last Restorer I knew of some six hundred years ago. Temper, temper, Risque." A decided tsk tsk noise erupted from the little man, the faintest hint of a daring, teasing simper tugged at his lips. The man seeming to enjoy...goading Risque a little. Another wave of pain seemed to burn at his veins once more, Darcy, for the third time within that hour, found himself almost wishing for that unconsciousness again as Ezra continued to talk- those instructions on his care allbut lost upon him as Risque answered back. What were they saying? Did it even matter? Maybe he could-. The sudden prick of the syringe agianst his skin seemed to jerk the world into a sudden sharp clarity, an irritated hiss spat free of Darcy;s lips as his gaze flickered open to eye that syringe within the being on his hand. The sudden feel of Risque's hand at his other shoulder, however, so readily prompted his head to turn, Darcy eyeing his mate in a fashion near...surprised in that moment. Though ether he remained surprised at her sudden proximity of her efforts to stop him biting the Shaman remained to be seen. The Southern cowboy, for now, inclined to settle beneath his lovers touch as Ezra drew that syringe away.So much of that pain suddenly seeming to vanish with it.

The world seemed to sharpen all the more as a sigh of simple...contentment parted the cowboys lips. His exhausted figure, at last, relieved of the pain that had torn at every muscle. His mind afforded that reprieve. Darcy, so at last, given that chance to take in his surroundings as he managed a single, rasping breath. How inclined he still was to find disdain for Ezra and yet....he did not dislike whatever had been within that syringe. His mismatched gaze shifted toward his Mistress then,his features softening as the faintest hint of grin touched his features. Had they won? His words felt...raspy even to his ears. His throat was slow to respond to his body's demand to talk and yet Risque, it seemed, had understood them all the same. Darcy, in that moment, inclined to relish within the mere scent of her. Her closeness nothing short of desirable. That insistence that they had won seemed to prompt a look of contended satisfaction to the man's features, Darcy's head bobbing ever so slightly as it remained resting agianst the pillow. That victory was all that mattered. He was certain of it. Risque's mention of Ezra, however, coaxed a look of momentary confusion to his features once more. Darcy having forgotten of the little man's existence entirely within those few seconds. Fucking fool of a tiny man,whatgood would he even be? He didn't need healing he was sure. What complications was Risque talking about?

"I 'eard summthin' 'bout witches and poison. I ain't been bit by no witch, i'm certain o' dat."

How readily his mind had...muddled those events. Poison came from...being bitten by something. Like Tetradore. Darcy was certain. He hadn't been bitten by any witch. He would remember that, surely. Ezra's soft laughter seemed to erupt from the side of the bed then. Darcy's gaze flicked to eye the man with clear disdain. The silver haired shaman, for now, ignored Darcy entirely as his emerald gaze met Risque's own instead "The confusion will only last a few hours. A shame really- I prefer him like this." Darcy's teeth ground over one another, that sound echoing within the room before his gaze flickered back to Risque. The southern cowboy, for now, was content to ignore the other vampire that worked at his side- smearing something cold and wet and....antiseptic smelling across that wound. Darcy's lip lifted ever so slightly in response to the sting of that cream before he took another rasping breath. His attention returned to Risque once more. Darcy oblivious to how distinctly pale his features had become as he asked what had happened to Cade.

Risques insistence that Cade was dead, turned to nothing but dust by his own weapon, seemed to bring a momentary simper to Darcy's lips once more. His mate's query on what he remembered however, prompted his features to frown as his head shook.

"I remember tryin ta-"

His mismatched gaze shifted upward to meet her own once more. That singular, potent moment so seeming to dance poised between them like a fragile web of silk- before a yawn tugged at his features. That impending tiredness threatened to drag him down again before his lips parted to speak once more- until one of Ezra's stitches stabbed too deeply. The growl that rose from within the Ravagers throat was nothing short of menacing. Risques question allbut forgotten as Ezra merely scowled- his threat to charge more if he was assaulted prompting Risque to query how much more it would cost if he was. "Significantly more". Even within that state Darcy was content to scowl. The vampire settled within that bed once more. Ezra was expensive by any standard. It was better not to prompt the lunatic to charge them more than whatever this supposed treatment was already costing. Risque's fingers moved idly agianst his skin, tracing patterns agianst his shoulder.That touch was...unusual. A simple, almost absentminded affection and yet it was...soothing. Darcy content to allow himself to focus upon it as Risque queried whether or not Ezra had ever been bitten by a Ravager. His silver head peered up and over Darcy's side once more, the man sniffing almost derisively. "I have not. I have only ever worked on one other Ravager before and I had the sense to muzzle him. I will muzzle this one too if he keeps on."One eye lifted in clear warning to both vampires before he applied more of that cream and returned to his stitching. Darcy was aware of only a faint pulling sensation at his side. Ezra muttered to himself about 'atrociousness' as he did.

That stitching, fortunately, so hardly seemed to take long before Ezra stepped back to announce that work was complete- his tools gathered in the same moment before he moved to replace those covers back over Darcy's figure. That newly stitched wound hidden from sight. The Shaman pausing only long enough to gesture to the bedroom door and the vampires that lingered outside of it. How oblivious Darcy had been to it before and yet how aware he became of it now. He could sense them. Ian, Kit, Chase, Jasper, Ronaldo and whoever else. They were circling like fucking vultures. Waiting for the chance to finish him off while he was injured. Damn fucking cowards- the lot of him. A sound of irritation rumbled within Darcy's chest- only to be cut short by Risques sudden declaration that those vampires outside would not touch him. Her voice held a dark intent. A cold promise. His gaze lingered upon her for several moments, Darcy's mind turning over that very declaration in silent contemplation before he shifted. That movement prompted him to wince as he sat upright. His hand reached for his Queen's own, his fingers lacing with hers as he insisted he needed to tell her something. He was...hungry. Fucking hungry. The absence of that pain had brought on a near riotous hunger.

That look of...surprise upon Risque's features prompted Darcy's own features to shift into a look near baffled. Was she surprised he was hungry? He was hungry all the time, let alone that loss of blood. Any further thoughts upon the manner however were quikly cast aside as Risque commanded he not leave that bed- the woman threatening to tie him to it as she had done on more than one occasion before she rose with the intention of seeing to that food. Darcy's head nodded, that obedience it seemed, still well ingrained within as he watched he stride from the room. It so hardly took long before the scent of blood permeated that space. He could smell it. He could almost taste it. How oblivious Darcy was to the fashion in which he lent forward almost instinctively. That saliva pooled within his jaws. Coating his teeth and tongue in anticipation. Risque strode back into that room a moment later, a tall glass within her hands.One adorned with...a straw. Darcy's gaze narrowed ever so slightly, his mismatched eyes flickering up to meet her own before he fixated upon that impending meal once more. Nothing and no one...existed beyond that blood. Everyfibre withinhis being near demanded it. Every once of will power was fixated upon stopping himself from watching it from her hands. A mistake he had only ever made once, more than a century ago. There would be more later, she promised.

Darcy's hands reached forward to take it from her. The Ravager so hardly caring that it was Were blood. A taste he so hardly favored. Any blood, here and now, was decidedly welcomed, the vampire reaching eagerly. That straw was slipped between his lips for barely a moment before that entire glass was up-ended in turn. A straw, after all, limited the amount of liquid he could draw into his mouth at one time (which was surely the point), Darcy desiring mouthful after mouthful of that blood. The man downing that glass within a manner of seconds before the sound of crunching, crumbling metal echoed within that space. That desire to bite while he fed was....instinctive. Darcy had hardly meant to shred that metal straw- its remains draw from his lips almost comically. The cowboy glancing toward that mangled straw in surprise before laying it upon bedside table. Thatnear wild look within his gaze so momentarily....appeased by that smallmealand yet how readily the hungered look of desperation still seemed to cling to him.

"Sorry, darlin'."

He gestured loosely toward that straw, his tongue flicking in an effort to extract every last drop from that glass. I had been barely three mouthfuls, hardly enough.

"Ezra ain't 'ere no more. Dun we got some feeder 'bout ta expire down below dat I can 'ave? You ain't really gonna 'ave me drink just dem little glasses are ya? I'm really 'ungry."

Hungry, for a Ravager was a decidedly....precarious thing. Risque, surely, did not intend to fetch him glasses of blood for the rest of the night did she? It would be far easier to simply let him have one of those failing creatures down below. Something hot and warm and directly from a vein. Mouthful after mouthful after mouthful. Even if Ezra had so warned agianst that very thing. Risque, however, so hardly seemed inclined to be rushed, her femanine figure so gracefully easing itself onto the edge of the bed beside him. Her words, when they came, were very near a musing as she tasted those lyrics of victory upon her tongue. A victory that satisfied Darcy in turn. It was his mate's soft utterance that the victory had not been her own,however, that prompted Darcy's gaze to shift toward her once more. The southern cowboy, even now, spent as he was- inclined to watch his lover almost warily. Such admittances were....not common from the vampiric Queen. Risque succeeded in all she did, whether by her own hand or her commands. Darcy's own head shook.

"Naw, we was all fightin' at you orders. Reckon dat makes it yar victory."

Risque had still commanded those forces. Perhaps he had acted as a General, of sorts- but she had remained the Queen. It was still beneath her orders their forces had fought and won. Darcy, even now, unwilling not to afford his Mistress that glory he was assured she deserved. Darcy's tongue parted his lips, sweeping over them in search of any hint of blood, the Ravager's gaze eyeing that empty glass once more. His thoughts seemed to...struggle to focus beyond his own hunger. Risque's words,however,managed to fixate his attention back upon her as she bade him recount what he remembered. Darcy's features frowned once more,his tongue toying with the tip of his right fang. His mind still felt....hazy.

"Yar was in dat....shield ting. I tried to get to ya but dat idjit Tetradore....he attacked me."

An irritated growl rose within his throat. The memory of that seeming to strike him full force once more.

"What 'appened ta Tetra? I was tryin' ta get 'im off me. I was damn fuckin'pissed at 'im. Reckon I'd 'ave ripped 'is 'ead off his shoulders if I couldda but I got 'it by dat bitch of a women. Cade's mate...."

Darcy's features shifted into a scowl, those memories seeming to rush back all at once in a coloured blur hidden behind a veil of red.

"I dun know what 'appened to 'er. I remember fightin' with 'er. I ain't been mad like dat in a long time darlin'. Not since I was young an yar first found me. I....didn't want ta kill 'er..."

Darcy's gaze shifted, the southern vampire eyeing his own hands, as if searching for any hint of blood upon them. The silence seemed to last for several moments-as if the vampire seemed to...consider the right of his own actions-before a near crooked, toothy grin so suddenly tugged at his features. His mismatched gaze lifting to meet Risques own again.

"...I wanted to rip her so far apart dat even fuckin'god ain't able to put 'er back together. Reckon I might 'ave dun it too. Reckon I might 'ave eaten 'er..."

How readily that near wild look seemed to find his gaze again at even the memory of that. That blood filled haze was a blur within his mind, existing in little more than snapshots. Moments. Fleeting glimpses of a bloodlust beyond his control.A true Ravager madness unlike he'd displayed in....centuries. Risque so firmly having instilled a level of control within him that he had...lost entirely. His head shook softly once more.

"I dun remember it real well. I was jus eatin'. I ain't 'ave any idea what was 'appenin' and den I....felt.....somethin'. Somethin' I ain't never felt 'efore."

That near baffled look managed to find his face then, Dary's head tilting ever so slightly to the side in confusion.

"I.....stopped feedin'."

That very realization seemed to dawn upon the Ravager then. His mismatched gaze widening slightly. He shouldn't have been able to stop. His very species was designed not to stop. Especially not so far...gone as he had been. Lost within that red haze of violent intent.

"I tried to get to ya, I remember Cade sendin' me flyin. I saw dem stakes comin'. I was runnin'. Day was gunna git ya. I was too far away. I ain't never run dat fast. I still dun know 'ow I got dare in time. I crashed into ya and dat stake 'it me instead. Reckon I must 'ave killed dem warlocks 'olding sa sheld at some point...I dun remember darlin'."

One hand lifted to rub at his head as if that might somehow bring back those thoughts, his dark hair falling into his gaze as he did.The man winching slightly once more as his side throbbed in protest. A soft groan parted his lips once more, Darcy leaning forward as best his could,his lips pressing suddenly, softly, to his mate's cheek in a distinctly chaste kiss. His words, this time, so barely above a whisper.

"I dun know what 'appened an I dun reckon I care. I just know I didn't want to lose ya. I might 'ave if dat stake 'it ya in da back. I been in love wit ya since da day I met ya, Darlin'. Dat ain't changed...."

We are rough men and used to rough ways.