It was going to be a lovely evening, in Darcy's opinion. Not a cloud in the sky - well, except for a few grey wisps that stood out against the orange sunset - and there was no one around for miles, or one mile at least. He thought so, anyway.

He sat down on the ground, leaning forwards and watching the water rush steadily by. The dew had already settled on the grass and it was cold and steadily seeping through his jeans.
Most nights when he went out, he went out looking for company. Not so, this night. He felt like taking it easy, and remaining human. Too many nights lately he'd been running around playing the nice puppydog to anyone he came across. He felt like being himself tonight.

He stretched, then lay down on his back and watched the sky above turn slowly from orange to blue.

Logan was humming a particularly nice tune to go with this particularly nice evening. He had his hands in his baggy black jeans and went shirtless, even though it was a bit cold out. He was spontaneous. He wanted people to notice him.

His black hair was hanging into his ice blue eyes in almost tangles, though he didn't bother pushing it away. He sauntered into the woods near the river and the sound of the running water, humming.

He stopped once he reached a body stretched across the earth's floor and smiled. His humming stopped.

"Long time no see, darlin'."

He wants revenge on Darcy for what Alex did to him. You could probably see it in his eyes, like cold blue flames. It was like a hunger that made him want to devour Darcy's very soul.

He did not smile at Darcy, but instead sneered.

Darcy tilted his head backwards, looking at Logan upside-down. His golden eyes widened when he recognized the boy. He was on his feet in an instant, tensed and looking both nervous and...sad?

His hands balled into fists at his sides, but he didn't move from where he stood.
"What do you want?" he asked softly.

"What do I want?" He allowed himself a laugh, harsh and obviously mocking. "Shouldn't that be obvious?" He hissed, his eyes narrowing.

He dared a step forward confidently. First there was an unfair blow to Darcy's stomach, and he might recognize the invisible force.

"It's a damn shame you even have to ask." Logan's voice was devoid of the usual softness it took on with his regular, unsuspecting victims. That is the sound of Logan's voice when his day has been ruined by some peon or other.

Darcy doubled over, arms wrapped around his stomach.
He glanced up at Logan with a fierce grin. "That was a cheap shot," he choked out, and flung himself at the boy. (What? It's not as if he won't defend himself,...while he can).

Logan fell when Darcy flung himself at him, faintly surprised that he had the nerve to return fire.

"And letting that man," he wrestled with Darcy to try and roll on top of him, "beat me senseless wasn't cheap?" he snarled, trying to bite Darcy's neck with his own, human teeth. He'd use something more powerful when he could think clear enough as to what he wanted to do with him.

For now, settling it by human matters of wrestling and fist fight would do.

Though, with Logan, you could never tell when he'd decide to use something harmful completely out of the blue.

"After what you did to Keye, you think you deserved less than that?" Darcy growled.

When Logan's not using his powers, I think it would be fair to say that Darcy's outmatched him. He's taller, and probably a fair bit stronger too, though considerably less vicious. As Logan's teeth connected with his neck, he struck out at him, and attempted to put him in a headlock and pin him to the ground.

Childish, yes. But then, Darcy's had few fights with people who aren't his younger cousins.

"How is he, anyway?" Logan managed to get out, struggling under Darcy's weight. It was, indeed, fair to say that Darcy was more powerful than Logan without his telekinesis.

"Did he ever recover?"

He winced as he was struck and pulled into a headlock, squirming.

He did a bit of cheating, then, with another bite to Darcy's neck with more massive jaws, just to distract him enough to let him go.

"As if you care," Darcy snarled at him. When the jaws bit, instead of letting go, he tightened his grip, hunching his shoulders to protect himself and trying to pass the pain onto Logan.

Ouch.
For both of them.

"You could've at least," he sucked air through his teeth in pain, "pretend I care enough," he swallowed, conjured jaws snapping violenlty at any part of Darcy they could find to strike, "to answer the damn question."

Logan is very stubborn when it comes to pain, but he can't pretend it doesn't hurt. Because it really does hurt.

Snap, snap, went his only defense mechanism for the moment.

Darcy didn't answer this time, too busy gritting his teeth and making strangled noises in his throat as he was getting gnawed on by those invisible teeth. He still refused to let go, but not because of any strategy. He was holding on becase he was hurting - something like how people brace themselves when getting a needle, only this is on a much greater and messier scale, and he knows that it's not going to 'only hurt for a second'.

Logan was not getting enough air to satisfy his lungs' need for oxygen, and he wasn't liking it. Darcy was holding on just a little too tightly for his taste.

"Let- go!" He managed, gasping.

Knives came from everywhere, finding any open areas to stick into Darcy's skin, like what he did to Lucian.

Logan continued to hold on with those teeth and struggle.

Now it was just a game of who would give in first.

Darcy twisted, trying to force the boy to the ground, face-first. Blame the adrenaline surge for the fact that he's not let go yet - but it'll pass soon enough. He can't deal with that much pain for long without wanting to curl up and protect himself.

Logan was choking; therefore, this explains why Darcy was able to manipulate him so well. Logan's vision faded to black for a moment and then went back to color again. "LETGO!" he gasped, as if that would make Darcy stop what he was doing. There came another set of daggers that plunged into Darcy's skin, and Logan was protecting himself almost as if he were a porcupine, except with daggers instead of needles.

Darcy clung to him a moment longer, his wrist pressing hard into Logan's neck.
His grip didn't loosen, but the way he was holding changed. Darcy wasn't trying to choke Logan anymore - rather, he was trying to curl up, trying to put his arms close for protection. The only problem was that Logan was in the way.
"S-stop it," he demanded, shuddering violently. "Now."

"Then let go," he deamnded, taking in a gasp of air while he had the chance, "And get your filthy hands off me," he was breathingly heavily now, and the daggers that went into Darcy's sides were dangerous close to hitting internal organs. One of them just barely poked one of Darcy's kidneys.

"Fuck you," Darcy hissed, but managed to disentangle himself from the boy, and then sank into a shuddering heap, his eyes tightly closed, breathing in harsh, halting gasps.

Logan rolled backwards after Darcy had let go, just to leave some distance in between them. He rubbed his neck, looking down at the heap of shuddering flesh and bone that some people would consider a man. Logan just sneered, allowing all of the daggers that had entered Darcy's body by an unknown force to rip out of his flesh, tearing the skin even more.

"I strongly believe that you are the one that's fucked now."

Straightening his limbs out, he stood, stalking angrily towards Darcy.

"This is my game, and these are my rules. We're playing my game now, and I'm going to dismantle you. I'm going to leave you in a state worse than your little friend, Keye."

Logan bent over Darcy and sunk his teeth into one of the many bloody wounds made by the daggers. He began tearing skin off with his teeth.

(Mm. Hope that's not too gruesome.)

Darcy gave some kind of shrill, barely human cry. One bloody arm shot out, the fingers on that hand hooked like claws, reaching for Logan's face.

"V-va,..va te f-f-faire foutre," he rasped harshly, his face twisted in a grimace of pain and anger.

"What did you say?" Logan hissed after pulling a strip of flesh away, knocking Darcy's hand away from his face. He pinned that arm to the ground with one hand.

"Say it again." Logan didn't understand French, you see.

"Va. Te. F-faire. Foutre," Darcy snarled, his upper lip curling, showing his teeth. He doesn't intend to translate, just for the sake of being difficult. Besides, it's more fun when Logan doesn't know that he's just been told 'go fuck yourself'.

Logan's hand slid off Darcy's arm, and he leaned over, licking the wound he'd made better clean. He liked the taste of blood.

"In English."

He drew back from Darcy and sat on his heels.

"But maybe it doesn't matter." He looked away at the trees in the area.

"Au revoir... you must understand that, hm? I never finish abruptly. Today, I do."

"But I'll be back."

He stood now and turned to walk away.

"That is... if you live to see a later time."

Then he left.

It was about 10 minutes later, did the Angel appear. Logan was far gone by then, and he was less likely to care about Darcy being in pain now. Jibril had been watching Logan this night, and seeing as he was probably either going to Criss's or his apartment now, Jibril didn't need to worry about his little Master.

His wings were hidden, seeing as he would've standed out too much otherwise. He's a Master or stealth and hiding, one of the reasons nobody can ever notice him unless he wishes to be seen. And he doesn't care now.

He's coming from Darcy's left side.

Jingling and jangling like Logan usually is, with long chains hanging from thick, heavy dark pants. They seem to be made of a very heavy black fabric, with pockets and straps everywhere. A strong leather belt with a steel sun for the buckle. Chains hang from that too. He has on a flannel shirt, the top is hanging around his elbows as it usually is, revealing shoulders and bare upper arms. He had a tight fitting wife beater on, it went down to his hips, but it was tucked in his pants carefully and neatly.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

His footsteps were rather heavy, and he was already loud enougn with his jinglin' and janglin' of chains. His pants were tucked rather sloppilly into the knee highs. Straps and steel buckles, black leather. So much black. But they were kick ass boots.

He came over to Darcy, looking over the other. Poor thing, Jibril was fond of Dracy's type, the semingly naive and happy types - so adorable. He was now at his side and slowly kneeling, landing gently on the ground beside him. His eyes were scanning Darcy, as he raised his hands, pulling back the sleeves of the grey flannel shirt. On his left arm was a watch, and on both were tattoos, one of which read 'Logan' and the other 'Jibril Alphonse Digger'.

He placed those pretty, long-fingered, slim pale hands onto Darcy's chest. He didn't even have to do much, he's healed worse, like Logan's. And slowly, the buzzing feeling most likely very, very intense for Darcy - the healing began, it was a washing sort of feeling, and it would leave no scars, healing old ones too.

How could such a kind, amazing Angel love a boy like Logan? It's one of them amazing questions, like what came first? The chicken, or the egg? It'll probably never be found out either.

Well. Isn't that a funny feeling, Darcy thought. Until that peculiar buzzing set in, all he'd felt was pain, and the sensation of being slowly frozen but not going numb - just a steadily deepening cold.

But now the cold was gone, as was the pain. He opened his eyes, frowning sleepily at the dark shape hanging over him.
"Who are you?" he asked muzzily.

"Jibril. Shh. You're gonna be a little sleepy, but you're fine now."

He brushed the other's forehead softly with his soft hand, smoothing down the hair. His eyes are probably the only thing Darcy could see right now is most likely the shine off his peircings, and those huge glowing emerald eyes - the pink and yellow flecks even more noticeable in the dark. His eyes tell so much about him too - kindness, gentle, sad, loving, so many emotions, and darker ones buried beneath them.

"Oh," Darcy sighed, letting his eyes slide shut. He hadn't figured out just what had happened yet, but it wouldn't take long. "Alright."

He let out another soft sigh, tilting is head to nuzzle lightly aganst Jibril's hand. "Feels nice," he mumbled. A change of subject suddenly occurred - his mind was wandering. "I don't t'ink I know you, do I..."

"That's good."

He smiled, petting and rubbing the other's head softly, caressing it. Poor dear. He'd have to talk to Logan - or try not to get attached to Darcy. After all, these were his Master's victims and Jibril was not allowed to interfere.

A smile.

"No you don't, but someone precious to me knows you."

Darcy rolled over onto his back, and was surprised to find that it didn't hurt to move.
"And... who would that be??" he asked, half-opening his eyes and blinking up into what was now a dark evening sky. "I know...lots of people..."

"Ah, we'll disscuss that later, right now though...we should go somewhere else instead of being stuck out here, hm? It's cold. Want to go somewhere?"

A friendly smile and he bent over, picking Darcy up bridal style, and standing up slowly, as not to make Darcy dizzy or freak him out.

"You're all patched up but you shouldn't move right now."

Darcy pondered this a moment.
"Euh... alright. Okay," he agreed - though not until after Jibril had picked him up. He wasn't too quick on the uptake.
Curling up in a way that made him somehow fit better into the angel's arms, Darcy let his head loll onto his shoulder. "...no moving. Right."

"Good. What's your name?"

He hadn't heard Logan say his name. He kissed the top of the other's head, just to do any amount of comforting or consolation. He shifted a little, so that Darcy was comfortable as one could possibly be. It must be nice though, no more pain, no open wounds, no scars.

Has he even realized that yet?

"Anywhere you want to go?"

"Darcy."

He'd realized it, but it hadn't fully registered. His thinking went like this: It doesn't hurt anymore. This is a good thing. End of transmission.
He hadn't wondered why he felt better - just knew that he did, and that someone was looking after him. No worries.

"...Home. I want to go home," he sighed. "Can I?"

"Nice to meet you Darcy."

Darcy's face was probably turned into his chest, usually hearing would be lsightly muffled, but Jibril's voice was clear as glass. It was deep and hoarse, but it rolled like waves, echoing through a person's body, magnifying the buzzing feeling of his aura and energy.

"I'll gladly take you home. Where is it? Or would you like to point it out when we go over the city?"

"No, no..." Darcy sighed, and mumbled his address. He tensed slightly, beginning to regain some of his lucidity.

"What do you mean... 'over the city'?"

"I know where that is."

Jibril knows this entire city inside and out. He smiled, and then chortled.

"Exactly what I said. Over the city. Stay calm while I let my wings out."

He pressed Darcy's face against his chest. The other can feel Jibril's torso muscles contracting and shifting. Then his wings began to come out, same as usual, just with his shirt ripping in the back. He let Darcy's face go, so the other could see his huge wings easilly, black with silver blood on them, shining.

"Ever flown before?"

"No, never flown... went in a hot air balloon once..."

Darcy tilted his head back and gazed blearily at the wings, and then, frowning slightly, at Jibril's face.

"...You're a, une ange? An angel?"

"I've been flying for as long as I can remember..."

He smiled down at Darcy's bleary face and chuckled, nodding. He was used to this reaction, boy was probably aware of everything, becuase those who weren't would usually faint or gawk more. Than again those who are aware do the same thing sometimes too...so really you never know.

"Mhm, one hundred percent Angel...been told I'm one of the oldest still living, like Ancient with a captical a...weird, huh? You against flying? I promise you, it's very safe and beautiful..."

"Mmhmm." He closed his eyes. "...Well,... I won't know until I've tried."

His fingers crept up to hook onto the remainder of Jbril's shirt.

"Just,... do not drop me."

"That's the sort of spirit I like..."

He smiled and shifted, so Darcy was against his body, and with a magnificent flap of his amazing wings he went soaring - straight into the air, higher and higher, until they were at cloud level, above in fact. He was up here so that Darcy could see what it's like, first time has to be nice, right?

Of course it's cold too, but Jibril's body is very warm right now, it always is when he's flying, plus with the help of his jacket and arms around Darcy. He was smiply content with smiling, turning so his wing split through the cloud. It was gorgeous up here, silver-white sea of the clouds with the moon, what little of it there was, shining down beautifully.

He made a face, cinching hs eyes shut and feeling a pull in the pit of his stomach as they rose into the air. When he felt the air begin to grow cooler, he opened his eyes and looked around.

Well what do you know. They're up in the sky.

He tilted his head to look down, then around them. Then he rested his head on Jibril's shoulder again and remarked dazedly, "This 'as been a very, very bizarre evening.."