Hoard

Darcy has seen a lot of things in her time, but even she is more than a little in awe of Iron Man. She watches, along with the rest of the world, in amazement as Tony Stark rebuilds himself from the burning remains of the prison he blew up himself. Tony Stark is impressive, by any standard, and something deep within her itches, watching him, and she determines to pay more attention to him after the Iron Man announcement. 

Darcy’s kind tend to keep to themselves. They’re obsessive, often to the point of possessive, and more often than not, they don’t interact well with one another, or anyone else. But Darcy has always been odd. She discovers that hoards don’t have to be things.

She starts collecting people.

Jane is her first.

This lifetime, she’s going for a political science degree, mostly to stave off boredom. She’s not usually so scatterbrained, but she gets to her last semester before she realizes she never filled her science credit and desperately applies for an internship. Thankfully, she gets it. 

It takes all of two seconds for the scatter-brained genius to settle something inside her. Darcy has  heard about hoards. She even has a few stockpiles of various riches that could be classified as hoards. But in all her centuries, she didn’t understand the big deal, the all-encompassing possessiveness, until the brunette whirlwind that is one Dr. Jane Foster scowls at her over a broken coffee pot and demands poptarts.

Then Erik walks in and her collection doubles.