How quickly that young woman was forgotten in those harrowing moments in which Tim presented himself as a new target. The Hero. Unable to leave a damsel in distress. How noble. Offering himself up like a lamb to the slaughter instead. Perhaps that made Darcy the vengeful God? Hmm. An intriguing thought and yet one that hardly lasted within the depths off his mind. That hunger having near overtaken all else. Raylin's existence perhaps only further fueling that violent fire. In those moments she existed as nothing more than his possession. That territorialism rallying agianst Tim in turn. That sad, weak, pathetic human man was in his way. Daring to attempt to take his meal as if he had any right to speak to a vampire at all. As if he hardly understood the order of the world and his place within it. That, it seemed, inclined to be Tim's most fatal of errors tonight. That rush of speed so saw that vampire move like a blackened blur, Darcy appearing before Tim in a near instant and yet that look of shock had so barely managed to make it to the poor fools face before he was lifted upward by his shirt- as if he weighed nothing at all. His body dangled, his feet flailed and yet that final gasping breath was all he was afforded in the wake of that southern drawl. Darcy jerked that man forward and toward him, his own head tilting just so as to let those wicked double fangs collided with the man's neck, to puncture through flesh- and tear his very throat out.

That faint, suffocated cry from the young woman so vaguely registered somewhere within the depths off his mind. Darcy aware of the fashion in which she crumpled to the ground and yet in that moment little care existed for anything save the heat of that blood that erupted like a veritable fountain from the body of the man he held. The sweet, rich blood that flowed from those open veins was almost scalding and yet how greedily he drank from it. Darcy swallowing mouthful after mouthful in a desperate need to state that hunger that so eternally clawed at him- as if to torment him. Those moments in which he fed so providing but a few precious, precarious minutes of silence from those ever-hungry demons within. The vampire pulled slightly away from that body only to lick at his lips, capturing those few droplets of blood that had attempted to escape before biting into the man's neck all over again. Tim long since dead. That quick death a small mercy the man had hardly deserved and yet his impatience and hunger had gotten the better of him tonight.

His hand at last releases his hold on that body. What remained of Tim crumpling to the ground at his feet as Darcy brushed the back of his hand across his lips now as if he merely wiped away the crumbs of a pastry- rather then the very life of a man. That very blood that flowed through his veins now, Tim's blood, so afforded his body that very look of life. How quickly that colour returned to his skin, his hair, his eyes until Darcy looked so entirely alive. His body relishing in that return to warmth. The sound of footsteps prompting his gaze to slice sharply sideways. The girl. Raylin. He'd forgotten about her. That low, rumbling growl rose like a warning within his throat. That sound purely predatory and near animalistic in its release, warding her away from the meal he was not yet sure he was done with and yet- that curiosity tugged at him too. How very bold she was to approach him now. Was she going to offer herself in turn? Perhaps she desired to give Tim some sort of first aid as if she believed a man with his throat torn out might recover. She wouldn't be the first to bloody herself in her efforts to try. It always amused him. Watching them try. Why. That word erupted from her with far more strength then he had anticipated. His mismatched gaze forced away from Tim's body then to meet her own. What an odd little creature she was. His current state of saition perhaps affording him the patience to deal with her. To humour her in the least.

That soft exhale eases smoothly from within him then, Darcy pausing to wipe his hands agianst his black jeans. The vampire in seemingly no rush to answer her questions he all but toys with her patience in turn. His feet suddenly shifting. Darcy abruptly striding towards Rayling then. The woman whom had, moments ago, been all to content in his arms. She would recoil from him now if he reached for her again, he was sure. Darcy paused just before her now, that distance between them no more than a foot or so.

"I didn't kill 'im."

That, perhaps, was a terribly bold statement for a man still coated in his victims blood. His mismatched gaze flickered briefly downward, eyeing the fists the woman's hands had made as she struggled to force back that fear. An admirable effort. Was she really going to try and strike him? Surely the little dolt was not that foolish. His strangely-hued gaze lifted once more to her own. Those sweet southern lyrics falling from his lips again.

"Ya killed 'im ya'self. Ya killed 'im when ya ignored 'im. Ya killed 'im when ya wouldn't listen to 'im. Ya killed 'im when ya went outside dat bar and followed me into da dark. He died cause'o yar, love. He was only watchin out for ya. An yar led 'im ta 'is death."

Dacy shoulders lifted in that simple shrug. Those words aimed to twist and probe and stab at her undoubtedly shocked and terrified little mind. The vampire very near excelling in that simple act of....victim blaming. Yes. Tim's death was not his fault. It was her's. That singular, bloodied hand reaches suddenly outward then. Darcy capturing Reylin's chin beneath his finger, her head tilted upward, forcing her to meet his gaze once more. How close she was the death herself in those moments. That very affinity lingering within his eyes alone and yet- he has had his fill for tonight. How very lucky she was that Tim had been here at all.

"Yar were so, so, easy Raylin."

That simper dared to dance upon his lips once more. As if he could bury that metaphorical knife just a little deeper. Darcy abruptly releasing his hold on the woman before stepping past her. It was almost a shame he desired nothing else from her. She was a pretty thing too. Darcy content to merely leave her there then, upon the dark of that street. His own form striding into the shadows as he simply slipped his jacket back on and into place.

"Night, Darlin'."


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