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He had been watching her for a short while now, as he had been doing his weekly rounds by the territory lines, spreading his scent so that any challenger may know just what the hell they were getting themselves into if they so wished as to mock his position as Alpha. Thankfully, none had really come after his last challenger had endured greater injuries than he had. His strength, brains and wit had surpassed hers, and she was never to return to his borders, even if she was in need of help. Darcia was not merciless, but forgiving someone who dared to look you in the eye and claim that they could do a better job at protecting a family-- that was unforgivable, and she would be banned from his sight for the rest of her life because of her stupid mistake. Truly the hellion had been looking for Summer, for he wished to bring him with him to the borders of Moondown so that they may pay Striker yet another visit, as Darcia had not meant to disturb his meeting as gloriously as he had. And there was another reason to it, as well, though the mismatched eyed male would not admit to it. While he was there, he had wondered at the scent of two of the females there, gathered round the arena, had a similar perfume to them that Summer had underneath his cloak. After all, the smell of blood is quite different than the stench of one's musk. One can tell siblings from friends just by paying attention to their movements, their speech patterns, and also by their blood smell.
But that was not the issue here now that Darcia faced. With the arrival of Danger, Darcia knew that his borders were not getting half as much attention as he would have liked to believed they were... and he could not bolame his family members for not paying better attention to what came in and out of them; though he was more than a little upset that not all of them were still active within his territory. He was soon to have a conversation with Misty-- the woman had disappeared as of late, and had come back just recently. It would be an understatement to say that he was not curious as to what had drawn her into the wilderness, but he would have to earn her compassion to share with him if he was to get the whole story. Perhaps she would open up to him as he had to Summer and vice versa. Friends were scarce these days, and people who did not lower themselves to stab you in the back when you were turned the other way were even more so. But with summer's arrival, the trees were beginning to be crowned with leaves, and the winds were not as frigid as they had once been. With these winds, visitors came. And this girl, this very curious looking girl, was apparently one of the few who came to Bright Moon looking for solace, comfort, a family, sanctuary, or just a place to call home for themselves. She was talking to... rocks. Darcia stared. He did so conciously, knowing that it might be considered rood if he was caught, but how could he look away? It wasn't that she was gorgeous, though she was quite pretty in her own way, and it wasn't that he wanted her gone (though her behavior just now kinda freaked him out just a little)... it was that he was intrigued by her actions. Who the fuck talked to inanimate objects laying on the ground? The ebon stag pricked his listeners as her breathing came to mind. It was uneven, and different.
Darcia, not one to leave another in a time of need despite not knowing them, spoke up now, moving his musculature towards her, crossing over his own borders. Unlike many other regals, this monarch was known quite well for giving off the air of a king, but not displaying it physically. He kept his plummage down and did not dare mess with it. His head, however held high, was not in too proud of a position, and he did not wear a mask that portrayed pride and honour on him. He was simply another varg that held dearly onto life for all of it's ups and downs, to revel in it's beauties and to face the challenges it sent him was all he lived for. The only reasn he became an alpha was because he did not want others to grow up in the same manner that he and Iason had. And if he ruled a territory... well then he could watch over younglings and make sure that they did not stray to darkness, that they were safe from harm, and that they knew him as a friend and a protector. Such younglings were yet to come--- he did not know of any pairings in his packlands just yet. No news of females, their stomachs ripe with life, had reached his eavesdroppers, and it was unlikely to happen soon... though summer did bring promises he could not imagine. He desperately hoped that pups were one of them. In any case, here he was, worry tainting his double-hued portals, and pulling them to her own strangely colored ones. Miss, are you well? You seem to be--- His words were cut short as soon as she started to fall. Instantly the dragga's haunches dug into the ground, pushing him forward at a remarkable rate. He would not reach her before she fell and her head cracked to the ground... would he?
It was always a problem when a wolf lost their consciousness on one’s borders. Darcia had never had it happen before, and this is why he so readily flew to her now, as an angel might to a human who is about to abandon their life. Power surged through his veins, reminding him just what it was like to be in the heat of battle (though he quickly threw this thought away, for who has the time to think such things when a fellow varg is obviously in trouble?), pushing him faster. Of course he did not catch her as he would have liked to. It was a rather tricky job. Instead of holding her up, Darcia merely supported her fall, allowing her shoulder to seize his side, her head to bury itself in the soft summery down of his nape. And then he removed himself from her, carefully lowering her head to the ground. If she had seen dust, it would have been because of his sliding and twisting to support her. As soon as he had moved from her, he stood up and shook himself, glancing this way and that. Not that he was embarrassed to be seen with a woman, or to have looked a fool trying to stop her from cracking her head open, but because he wanted to know whether or not there was a physical cause for her collapse. When no other animal seemed to appear the culprit, he looked back to her. Boy was she lucky that he had been there watching her half the time that she had been near his domain. The charcoal demon looked back to her now. He couldn’t just drag her inside his territory. Tor knew what it might do to her side. She could be sliced open, end to end, with a mere rock. No. Darcia exhaled slowly and resolved to settle himself down into a sitting position about two feet from her and wait for her to awake. He dare not leave her unattended at his borders (and now he was wishing that Iason would show the fuck up so he could go and retrieve moss or the flesh of a hare for her). Who knew what might happen to her if he did such a thing. So he waited. After a while, he lowered himself even further so that he was laying down, his eyes closed though he dare not lay to rest his chin upon his ankles. And if—no when she woke, he would address her with the following libretto.
Have your senses come back to you, then? He would sigh, not waiting for her answer. For Darcia was, after all, not the most patient man in the world, nor the most gentle. He may give off the aura of being kind, but his words would forever have a chill behind them, one that he could not fix. They were not full of the same ice as those wishing to do ill upon another would be. They were not angry, or bored or anything really. They were just laced with frost. Is it attention that you want, fainting and falling to the ground, knowing that if you fall slow enough some knight might come to save you? Or is it simply stupidity that allows you to push yourself to exhaustion? Obviously Darcia was not in the best of moods today. He had not liked getting himself all scuffed up on one of his sides just because some strange girl had fainted.
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