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Who: Apollo and WHOEVER COMES TO HER.
Where: Silverglen Retreat and nearby forest.
When: During the current player plot!
What: Apollo is no longer in a cage and she's on the hunt for booze and good food. Also whores.
Warnings: It's Apollo she descended into dick/sex talk. 8|

Silverglen Retreat
Thanks to one blacksworn's shenanigans, this certain blacksworn is finding that she has a little more room to get up to shenanigans of her own. She hadn't really been here that long before getting kidnapped and shoved in a cage with six other people for a week or... however fucking long it was (it's hard to keep track of the days alright), but she did at least realize that the natives here weren't too keen on the dragonsworn.

Until now, anyway. Upon recognizing her as a blacksworn, the locals here seemed suddenly... well, nicer. For one, no one was trying to steal her or her dog, and for two, shit, they actually seemed to want her there. Something about the other flights being assholes?

Whatever, their suspiciously rude behaviour to the elves meant one thing: booze and whores may or may not have better chances of being found now. She hasn't the faintest idea whether or not this little place even has any brothels or bars but if it does, then shit, she's gonna find it. As such, Apollo continues to wander around with her dog, until finally she asks out loud (to the dog, to herself, or to whoever may be close to her at the moment), "Fuckin' come on, do elves not have whores? Doesn't even have to be an elf whore, any kinda whore'll do, and booze, I ain't in that backwards of a world where that shit ain't a thing, am I?"

A FOREST SOMEWHERE
Should one venture out into the forest, it is very possible to find Apollo out there as well. This afternoon, in particular, the woman has found a river, and she seems to be... fishing. But she doesn't have a fishing rod - no, her chosen method of fishing is to use her bare hands. Which she actually is somewhat proficient at, if the growing pile of fish laying next to Metalhead on the shore is any indication.

She isn't totally naked, but the majority of her clothes have also been left in a pile nearby her dog so that they might stay dry. So what's left is a woman covered in tattoos, just barely left decent by black undergarments, standing knee deep in the river and looking very much on the prowl.

"C'mon, you tasty little fucks." She murmurs to herself, eying the water and waiting for her prey to come closer. "Gonna need a few more of you for a good fuckin' fry up."

Wildcard
Obsidian Sanctum or elsewhere! Make something up and I will tag it. 8)

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"No, fuck those things. Got 'em back home and they're assholes there too. They ain't quite as smart as some of the dragons we got here, I don't think, but they still ain't the best of company."

Apollo could go on about her dislike of dragons, but she doesn't. Which is mostly because the innkeeper has finally made his way over to them, and she's grabbing the glass so quickly that she's just about snatching it out of the man's hand. His decision to leave the bottle may or may not be influenced by how damn fast she's drinking what he had given her - so fast, in fact, that in the moment Qilby's given her to drink, she's almost completely emptied the glass.

"Yeah?" She says after a minute, finally finding the strength to pull the drink away from her lips. "What exactly are the other flights up to, anyway? Heard some complainin' 'bout 'em, but I kinda missed the why. But yeah, 'spose it's good for us. If it means I can finally get some fuckin' booze then whatever, I'm here to help. Or... pretend to help. Somethin'."

She shrugs, and promptly finishes the last of her drink. Putting the glass back down, she nods her head at the bottle and glances at Qilby. "You gonna drink any of that or what?"

He waves his hand, shaking his head no -- all yours, Apollo. Otherwise she may take the poor elf's hand off completely next time he comes around. It certainly doesn't take much to keep her happy and, from the sounds of it, loyal. Good to know. He likes his allies transparent. Simple. Easy to please-- as long as he hasn't underestimated how much she can partake of which, judging by how quickly that first drink got put away, he may have.

"My sister is a dragon, you know," he says, still smiling. it's a throwaway remark. As much as he loves his sister, he's not insulted by any means -- he's probably the last eliatrope you'd think to sing the praises of their dragons, after all. Considering how vehemently as she seems to hate them, however, he's simply curious as to what her reaction would be.

He leans back. "How exactly do you plan on helping? Or pretending to help?"

If he's assumed she needs anything less than a fuckton of booze, then yes, maybe he has misjudged. Either way, the second he shakes his head is also the second that Apollo just reaches out, picks up the bottle, and begins to drink right from that. She has an entire lifetime of alcoholism behind her at this point, it's going to take a lot to get her smashed. And she plans on getting smashed.

"Uh huh. How's that possible?" She eyes him closely at that. He doesn't look like a dragon, how the hell could his sister be one? Unless he meant a... dragon hybrid or something, but fuck those guys too. Mostly she just doesn't seem to believe he's serious when he tells her his sister is a dragon.

And as for the other question, she just shrugs. "I dunno. I could punch a couple people for 'em. Or shoot 'em, but sometimes I just like to get into some good ol' fashioned fisticuffs, y'know?"

"I'm no dragon myself," he laughs, motioning placatingly. "So you don't need to look at me like that. I simply have a... Unique familial situation."

Which is putting it lightly. What sort of dragon brother bites off another brother's arm? Still, it's somewhat... Saddening to know that in his timeline, they're likely all dead. Not that death is ever an end for the eliatrope firstborn, but the presence of the Burning Legion on their world certainly may complicate any of their rebirths. Maybe once he's ended this war and solved all their problems for what must be the millionth time now, they'll be a bit more appreciative of everything he's done for them-- but until then, he has to deal with Yugo.

He drums his fingers on his knee thoughtfully. "And no-- I can't say that I do know. I tended to avoid fighting when possible, even before this injury."

A pause. Normally in this situation he'd think to ply someone with a few more drinks, but he feels pretty confident about this one. "I may be able to use your help if all this means you're offering."

"Unique's a word for it." But she'll leave it at that. Besides, she has booze to occupy herself right now anyway, so she's set herself to the task of knocking that back like it's water rather than continuing to talk.

The mention of not being a fighter get a shrug in response, since it isn't enough to drag Apollo away from her drink. It's probably a good thing that she's so hardy when it comes to alcohol, with the speed in which she's gulping it down (which is an enthusiasm no doubt brought on by an entire week of not a drop of booze - how horrible, right). She supposes it makes sense that he isn't much for fighting though, considering he is a one armed old man. As far as she knows.

That last comment gets her attention, however. She lowers the bottle and gives him an amused look. "Why, you askin' me to beat the shit outta someone for you or somethin'?"

"Why, that would imply something premeditated," he says with a smile that may not be entirely innocent. But he quickly shakes his head, glancing off anywhere but at Apollo. "No, nothing like that, provided everything goes as well as I hope.

"Our flight has had some success here. Inevitably some of the other flights' Dragonsworn will grow envious of our position. Resentful. It's only a matter of time before they decide to act on that resentment." Or in other words, those four little experiments of his might wise up and catch onto what's going on. The glib-tongue can't control minds, and its effectiveness (as he found) is still limited by the personality of whoever he uses it on -- a fervent belief in these peoples' guilt certainly didn't stop that guard captain from giving them a damned quest to restore their reputation. Honestly, it's like this sort of thing happens every day for them.

It might be too much to hope that they'll just all be killed by wild bears, so he has to assume that once they're free to enter the town again, they'll start trying to figure out what had happened. And if they do...

"I haven't exactly made a secret of my role in making allies of the elves," he says slowly. After a convincingly-hesitant pause, he finally looks back up at Apollo. "I'm afraid that may soon make me a target."

While Qilby talks, Apollo decides to get comfortable. So she wiggles and turns around in her chair, sinking down a bit with a concentrated sort of look on her face, until finally she finds a spot her butt agrees with. She murmurs a little "ah" under her breath, then stretches out her legs and rests her feet against the corner edge of the table. Yes there, perfect. For now.

And now that she's done fidgeting, Apollo turns her attention back to Qilby. "Resentful?" She hasn't had a whole lot of interaction with the other flights, but, "Huh, thought our flight's 'spose to be the dragonsworn assholes. Which colour should I be worried about?"

For the most part, Apollo seems to be following and believing him. She has her questions, sure, but she isn't even aware of the fact that the glib tongue ability even exists, let alone is an ability that all blacksworn are able to use, so she isn't suspicious that maybe he's leaving out some details here. Envy can be a very real threat - that's something she knows quite well, holding a powerful position in her world where if someone wishes to take it all they have to do is kill her. So she listens, and when she realizes what he intends to ask of her, she begins to laugh.

"So you're askin' me to help protect you, is that it?" It's not a yes, but it's not a no either.

"I'm asking you to be in the area when there's an opportunity for you to punch or shoot someone, or 'get into some good old fashioned fisticuffs,'" he replies, unaffected by the laughter. Qilby's as still and poised as she is fidgety and, despite his smile, is apparently taking this completely seriously.

"Not all of us fit our flight's stereotypes," he goes on to say. Just look at him, for example. Not a trace of asshole in him! "And there's no reason the same can't be true for the others. You'll find these sorts of troublemakers flying every color-- but I would be especially wary of the Blues. My 'friend' I told you about is a Bluesworn, and he's undoubtedly already begun to slander me there."

If he can count on Yugo for one thing, it's the boy's complete lack of discretion. They may have made their tentative peace now, but if Yugo catches on to this mess with the elves he'll take any opportunity to make a public spectacle of their inevitable fight about it. Best to have as many people on his side as possible before that happens.

"I would not expect you to aid me without promising you something in return, of course." He glances at the bottle. "I think I have an idea of your... Tastes. But if you have any other needs I can accommodate, I would be glad to help fulfill them."

"Well, can't argue with gettin' some fightin' in." She shrugs, raises the bottle back to her mouth, and doesn't lower it again until it's good and empty. But once it is good and empty, she places it back down on the table and immediately smiles and waves to the innkeeper to indicate she wants another.

"'spose that makes sense. But hey, I met a lady in blue while I was in that damn fuckin' cage, an' didn't think she was too bad. We've got a mutual friend, an' apparently we've been to the same world an' shit." Still though, Apollo doesn't seem too ruffled by his warning about the Blues. She likes Tempest well enough, so she figures it's possible that she's alright and the rest are assholes. Or something. Whatever - he's right about not everyone matching their flight stereotypes, at least.

"Well." She pauses to think about what all she wants, since she definitely is going to need something in return if he expects her to be of any help anytime. "Kinda don't think you're gonna be too great at findin' me whores or people to sleep with, but hey, if you manage it that'd be pretty great."

"No, I wouldn't be," he says, quick to agree. Goddess, does this woman think about anything else? "Someone like you-- I'm sure you have... Very discerning tastes. I would hardly know where to start."

And it's true: he doesn't know where to start with her. But he'll need allies very soon now, and as they say, beggars can't be choosers. And there's certainly something to be said for having such a straightforward person as an ally. No fear of a betrayal (like he might have if he was asking this of someone... Well, more like himself.) At the very least, it'd be useful having her around if he ever needs someone to take a fall for him.

"I hope that won't be a dealbreaker," he says, looking past Apollo and at the innkeeper, nodding his approval of her request. Doesn't hurt to remind her who's hosting her here, after all.

Sometimes she thinks about more than just sex and booze! Sometimes she thinks about violence too, and money, and... well, sex and booze are kind of staples in her life though, so it's hard for her not to think about them all the time at this point.

"Discerning tastes." She replies, seeming amused by the description. "Well, y'know. Like to think I know what I'm doin' when it comes to whores an' friendly friends."

Apollo, luckily for him, seems to fail at picking up on what exactly it is he's thinking about. She knows he'd like to have her as an ally, presumably because she's good to have around in a fight, but she doesn't consider the fact that maybe he's the type of person to throw her under the bus when things start looking grim. But hey whatever, he's put booze back into her life so how bad can he be?

"Naw, I can work on that myself. Just kinda fuckin' blows my mind that whores ain't easier to find. I mean fuck, sendin' me here with no husband an' no harem, not even one of my whores, then tellin' me whores ain't a thing here? No fuckin' way, that's gotta be bullshit." Well. She's a woman on a mission who knows exactly what she wants, if nothing else.

"In times like these, I daresay people tend to look for lasting love," he murmurs. The short-lived always panic when they realize that they could die any day and fade into obscurity, with no heirs or anything of worth left behind. Qilby can't imagine it, but not for lack of many hours upon hours spent trying. He supposes for all its shortcomings, his situation is better -- at least he can see everyone else for what they really are. Just generations upon generations of little crawling things, totally inconsequential in the scope of the Krosmoz.

And here he has someone whose chief concern in life, as far as he can tell, is finding someone to screw. It feels good having his thoughts justified sometimes.

"Think about it then," he says as the elf comes over with a second bottle. Qilby takes it this time, refilling Apollo's cup for her and after a moment, pouring himself a little. He holds it up, toasting her. "To-- potential partnerships?"

"But I've already found lastin' love, what about one night physical not-love?" She doesn't really expect an answer, as it's more of a general whining statement anyway. She really does love her husband, and they work well together (likely in part because of their openness when it comes to sleeping around), but being without him and their whores has left her a little... well, bored. So yes, if she can't have Malakai or any of her favourite whores, right now her chief concern in life is indeed to find someone new to screw. Because priorities.

She takes the glass when it's full, and the little toast is the only thing keeping her from immediately setting herself to downing it. "Potential partnerships." She agrees, clinking her glass against his. And then setting herself to downing half of it, since moderation or pacing doesn't seem to really be a thing with her. "Long as I got booze to fuel me, sure, why not I 'spose."

Qilby's much more measured with his drink (although part of it is the fact he's wisely only poured out half as much for himself as he did for Apollo) but even so, he has to hold back a cough after downing it. He's not a lightweight by any means but Goddess, she's been making it look much easier than he remembers. He gives her a look over his glass, eyebrows raised.

One night? She's been making it sound like this would be a week-long affair, the way she was going on about it. Not that he's complaining -- there's a lot of be said for someone whose loyalty is so easily bought with sex and alcohol. As long as she isn't as flighty with said loyalty as she seems to be with her relationships... But that will remain to be seen.

"Well then, I suppose I'll leave you to it for now. I'm sure you have a lot of catching up to do here-- and I have appointments elsewhere," he says, putting the empty glass on the table and standing up. He flashes her a bright little smile. "It was a pleasure, Apollo. I'll keep in touch."

She notices his look and she just smiles brightly back at him. Part of the reason why she's handling it so well is because she's been sitting down the entire time, although a lot of it is thanks to a lifetime of alcohol behind her too.

Honestly, Apollo has a few layers to how she categorizes loyalty because it is so closely related to individuals - her husband, even with their arrangement, is one of the few people she would never even consider betraying, for instance. But as far as filling her booze and covering her in whores goes, well, it's a good start. For that she'll hang around long enough to punch some people, but as for the rest... well, it does indeed remain to be seen, doesn't it?

"A lot." She agrees. "Thanks for settin' me on the path of drinkin' myself stupid tonight. I'll letcha know if I manage to find a whore or sleep with the bartender over there, yeah?" She knows damn well he doesn't want to hear about that, but hey, sometimes she just can't stop herself from being purposely annoying. "But yeah, alright. Seeya 'round."

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