warforged | and so they tell me that you ain't my friend; (OPEN)

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and so they tell me that you ain't my friend; (OPEN)

Who: Blacksworn & other inhabitants of Obsidian Sanctum.
What: We're having a luau, losers.
Where: Obsidian Sanctum.
When: July 11.
Warnings: Drinking, probably some nudity considering who all is going to be there, and maybe Apollo???

When it came to schmoozing and boozing, Emma was quite certain that most of her fellow Blacksworn knew how to conduct themselves properly with the right environment. If they were as like-minded as her as she's been made to believe, then it was possible they were just waiting for the opportunity to present itself. Not that the Obsidian Sanctum could host any kind of special occasion with the rough terrain, but conjuring miracles out of nothing wasn't new to this Blacksworn.

As a newcomer who wasn't greeted by her peers when she arrived (rude of them, she thought), Emma informed anyone who crossed paths with her that there was to be a party this evening and they were to attend. While most of the dragonkin didn't seem enthused over the news, she cared little for what the lot of lizards thought and took to making arrangements herself. Not that she would be alone in this venture... hopefully. Bringing it up to the other Blacksworn was her way of telling them to gear up and come with something lest her opinion of them would sour more.

By time evening comes around, an open space of the sanctum has been decorated for a party complete with a bonfire and is that a table that's been formed out of rock? Interesting use of the new abilities bestowed upon her with a touch of her own diamond hands shaping the rest. Resting on the table alongside the food are brightly colored necklaces made of orange blossoms and beads, likely from a trade with one of the villages nearby. Yes, those are leis for anyone who might have actually heard of them prior to Azeroth and is that liquor of some kind? There's probably some other neat stuff around thanks to the other Blacksworn who know how to make a party rock and for the ones that don't, it's time they learned.

{ OOC | This is a free for all bring your own stuff and mingle for the most antisocial sanctum there is. Make your own top levels, do whatever seems reasonable. If you need an excuse to attend, Emma could have dragged your character there. }

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He's not even sure why the hell he should consider going. Honestly. This was the worst idea ever, and it wasn't even Apollo's for god sake, which meant Emma could be classed as a new moron.

Great.

Just great.

He could do the whole schmoozing-thing at the redsworn party. That was important, all an act to look good and search for interesting, useful people. This party is anything but. He may "get along" with some of the other blacksworn, but not enough to attend a party.

Wait.

He wonders if Riven will be there.

He wonders if she legitimately likes any of the people here.

Maybe he can piss her off.

So, the Master arrives to the party with a grin on his face and a goal in mind. He even brought a dead bear to the party (though most of the sanctum was probably sick of bear, and if anyone for some reason thought to look, the bear had zero "soul" left to it). And he puts on a lei despite the very thought making him hate himself a little.

Just please, tell him that Deathwing isn't showing up.

Call her a moron to her face. Go on, it might be fun.

At least there's someone here who is willing to enjoy the party for what it is. Emma wastes no time in closing the distance between him and herself in amicable greeting between Blacksworn.

"Roasted bear, is it?" Not all that familiar with souls (that's another X-Man's specialty, not her's), she doesn't seem to notice anything about it other than the obvious fact that it's dead. A very dead bear. "Impressive--at least they won't whine in ire about the stock being diminished for the festivities."

He's so tempted to. He really, really is.

"I'm sure they'll find something to complain about anyway." See how much he loves this place. Maybe he should have joined Sev in a hidey-hole. "Should replace their stash with rotting fish." He flashes a grin. "See how much they like that." Give them something to distract them from how awful there blacksworn are.

Bring it on. The others certainly getting an earful of each other.

"Rotting fish? I wasn't aware my comrades in arms were elementary students. What's next--putting froggies in their greaves or pulling the hair of all the female Blacksworn?"

Emma's at her limit when it comes to the childish remarks. What is it about her that encourages people to whip them out? It isn't an attempt to impress her, is it?

[Surion is very puzzled, but also sort of curious, and so he hangs out on the edges of the table poking at the flowers and such.]

Hello Surion. [ Look at this smooth lady work her magic.

... except there's really no magic involved and she's what you would call the rough surrounding a diamond right now. Details. ]

Have you come to see what the excitement is about? Oh--and those? You are supposed to wear them. Go on now.

[He arches an eyebrow and pulls his hand back as he's addressed.]

What? You want me to... wear it?

[Yeah, no. He's looking pretty skeptical. Like, bitch, I'm a dragon I don't wear flowers this ain't no green flight.]

[ It's all right, she doesn't falter easily under the pressure of looks like that. In fact, she's giving him one in return. ]

That's what I said.

I know dragons have no problem when it comes to hearing things. I imagine your ears pick up a number of things, don't they?

[His brows furrow.]

I suppose next you'll tell me that you eat the flowers at the end of the night according to some weird mortal tradition.

[Whatever, he doesn't feel like struggling right now and he is still terribly curious, so he takes the nearest lei and dons it.]

Are you happy, your majesty?

[ Picking up another one, she motions for him to lower his head. Yes, she's intending to place this one on his head as though it were a crown. ]

Of course, my liege.

... but fear not. There won't be any consumption of plant life at this party. I'm not familiar with these herbs so there's no telling which are poisonous and which have side-effects that would result in unfavorable emotions stirring forth.

[Well, she's not biting his head off, so he might as well play along. He bows his head respectfully.]

It's too late for that, unfortunately. I have this unwanted premonition that things are going to end very badly somehow.

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psychice - 2014-08-01 13:50 (UTC) - Expand

Cynder did not know how to conduct herself properly in this sort of environment, which might be why she's being exceptionally cautious about all of this. Likely assumed to simply be one of the scaly 'lizards' skulking about the Sanctum, she'd nevertheless been grateful to acquire an invite to this party of the strange woman's.

And then she spent the afternoon attempting to figure out what to bring. It was proper when invited somewhere to bring along something, wasn't it? She wasn't sure, and wracking her memory wasn't producing many answers either, so by the time she actually arrives, the little black dragon is not only exceptionally uncertain she's found the right thing for this sort of shindig, she's half-convinced it's precisely the wrong thing to do. What she's brought is simple enough, a woven basket (with a convenient arching handle, good to hold in the teeth) full of fruit she'd ... found ... while scouring the nearby land. It's not particularly elegant but it's something.

It takes her a bit of time to maneuver the thing onto the table with Emma's far more refined offerings without losing fruit off the side. Clearly everything on the table is meant for eating, so cautiously she picks up a lei and slips off to the side to figure out how to eat it without getting string in her throat.

The fruit in the basket doesn't need to be elegant for Apollo to immediately love it. She's been taking care of the roasting of a boar and some other animals she managed to hunt down out in the forests, but she likes the sweetness of fruit just as well.

So she nabs one (more like a couple) and, while she's eating away at an apple, she notices what she assumes to be one of the dragons that call Azeroth home... trying to eat one of the leis. For a little bit she just stares, curious as to whether or not the dragon actually intends on eating it, and not particularly feeling nice enough to go help her at first. But hey, it's a party (and she's been having a few drinks anyway), so she eventually wanders over.

"I thought dragons ate meat an' stuff, why're you tryin' to eat that thing, huh?" It's not the most helpful thing to say, but she is wearing about ten leis around her neck, so at least that might help Cynder out.

Cynder has never seen a lei in her life. But it makes sense to her, there were animals that ate ONLY flowers, maybe these were supposed to be especially tasty, but then why is there string attaching it all? To make them last longer? If she's being watched, it's certain she's aware of it, she just has other matters at paw to deal with.

Like this flowery thing. And pulling off a flower and eating it reveals that no, it's not particularly tasty, which leaves her with the dilemma of knowing it's rude to put a food item you don't like back. What now??

When spoken to, the little black dragon's head snaps up, to regard Apollo with a wide-eyed stare. "Oh. Um." Wait, why was she just wearing them? Was she going to save them for later? "We do, usually. But they're ..." She twitches her wings in a way that somehow conveys a shrug before eyeing the table sidelong. "I've always been told to try a new thing and see if I like it, and they were on the table, so.."

So they had to be food, right?? Right?!

Except Apollo is wearing them. Maybe they're just decorations. Oh Guardians. What if they were? Decorations were NOT for eating.

The entire time Cynder talks, Apollo just stands there staring.

She has no idea what to make of the dragon, what she's saying, or what she's doing. In her world, dragons are all assholes who enjoy things like devouring humans and destroying ships, so to see this little creature chewing on a flower necklace, and hear her talk so - so meekly, Apollo takes a while to process what's happening. Azeroth dragons don't seem to be much different than what she knows either, so...

"Are you from here or what?" Apollo blurts out, regarding her with a quizzical look. "An' no, those ain't for eatin', 'less you like flowers an' shit but you don't look like a herbivore to me." Do dragons even come in herbivore versions? "You're 'spose to wear it."

In Cynder's world, most of them are guardians and protectors, and being anything else is a strange thought... even if she didn't fit the archetype. She knew she was supposed to..

For a time, after she lapses into silence, she just returns Apollo's stare, waiting for whatever might follow. So this didn't work quite the same as she thought, was that really worth being watched like she'd sprouted three heads? --Ah, yes that's the problem. She had black scales, this was a black dragon sanctum, and everyone else here with black scales except for Surion seemed to be incredibly bad tempered.

"Would you prefer I rant about my superiority and threaten to eat you for daring to question me?" She sounds a little sullen when she says that, curling her tail over her feet, the bladed tip tapping the ground. "I could, if it'd make you feel better." But she'd rather not, apparently. That's not exactly an answer though, is it? "I'm not an herbivore. But not everyone here is a carnivore, and these ... things aren't exactly familiar..." That could sound bitter. It only sounded a touch bewildered. WEAR them?

Well. After a moment's wrangling she manages to get it entangled around her horns. Good enough, surely!

Again Cynder is met with silence as Apollo continues to stare, rudely, looking completely bewildered by the downright polite nature of this little dragon.

"What?" Apollo says finally, as though what Cynder has said is only now catching up to her. "No, I--" She pauses again. Is she really talking to a dragon that doesn't want to talk about eating her, or how great dragons are, or whatever else dragons like to talk about? Apparently she is, so she catches herself and continues her thought. "I just thought that's what your kind just did, y'know, instead of sayin' hi you eat someone's arm. But uh, guess it's nice you don't wanna eat me."

Apollo glances at the lei now tangled in her horns, contemplating whether or not she wants to help. What if when she extends her arm, the dragon changes her mind and bites it off after all? Eventually, Apollo decides to risk it. Cautiously reaching out, she manages to get the necklace untangled from one horn, but waits to see what happens before she moves to do another.

The stare is returned. If Apollo can do it, so can Cynder. Maybe Apollo's kind didn't see such staring as rude or a challenge! Maybe it was simply friendly! Therefore, for now, return like for like. Maybe this lady was from somewhere that didn't have dragons, the Blackflight wasn't exactly a good introduction to how proper, normal dragons behaved.

But at the least it seems Apollo isn't unfriendly, so the little black dragon perks up a bit, a little more attentive and a little less wary. "I don't eat anything I can talk to that talks back, it's rude." Not immoral or wrong or anything, just rude. "Dead meat is dead meat, but while it's alive, it's a different matter." Simplistic, easy to understand, and keeps Apollo in the 'don't eat' category.

As Apollo reaches for the lei, Cynder very obviously doesn't go for a bite. She does stop moving though, even breathing until she's certain what's going on, whereupon she relaxes again by small degrees. "Is this something your people usually wear during feasts?" All humans surely belonged to the same people.

Qilby's come to expect seeing some unusual things on his infrequent trips back to the Sanctum. From what he knows about several of the other Blacksworn, he really should be spending more time there if only to supervise and make sure none of them do anything stupid or destructive. Or both.

That being said, a party (complete with bonfire and a spread of food) is one of the last things he'd expected to see. He's so taken aback, it doesn't even occur to him to simply turn around and leave like it normally would've -- against his better judgement, he actually decides to take a look around.

"What's the, aah..." Qilby begins, trailing off when he notices the flowers. He grabs a handful of the loops and holds them up before his face, giving them a skeptical look. Unbelievable. "...What's the occasion?

Whatever the hell Qilby's talking to himself about as she eyes up the lei, it doesn't matter, because the second a certain someone sees him, she's stomping her way over and pointing an accusing finger at him as she squints her eyes and says, "Fuckin'-- you."

Any threatening tone to her voice is kind of lost to the fact that she's standing there wearing about ten leis that may or may not be covering a bare chest, and a little skirt that appears to made of grass or leaves or something ill suited to such a fiery landscape. And the fact that she's already chugged so much... whatever the hell of booze they had here - but still, she's clearly annoyed about something.

"The fuck d'you think you're up to, Quibbles, tellin' people that you're king of the blackflight, huh? Huh?"

...Oh.

It's not as if this is anything new for him -- she might actually be a little overdressed for a party by Eliatrope standards -- but this is... Not really the same thing, he has to admit to himself. No rationlizing this one; she's simply beyond all rationalization. He just has to stare a little bit, at a complete loss for words, before what she's actually saying gets through to him.

"I said-- what?" he says after a short, open-mouthed silence. He may say a lot of things that aren't necessarily true, but never before has he lost track of what lies he might've told to whom. Qilby's all for new experiences, but getting called out at a party by a half-naked woman wearing nothing but flowers and grass is not exactly what he had in mind. "What in the world are you talking about?"

He's not even going to touch Quibbles. Not yet, anyway.

"You, I'm talkin' about you goin' around tellin' people that you're in charge of blackflight!"

Apollo stops a couple feet away, making her pout and her glare all the more noticeable as she stares him down while he tries to figure out what in the fuck she's even talking about. She kind of isn't the most rational of people in the world (any world) though, so he is right about that at least.

"Greenie told me you've been talkin' shit to Blueflight an' friends, sayin' you're gonna be wearin' the obsidian crown," He didn't, that is literally something Rose said jokingly. "An' in charge of all the blackflight assholes, well, blackflight includes me and there ain't no one who gives orders to the King of the Sea." Even though her kingdom is literally worlds away right now, but still.

Normally he'd have just the right, pacifying words to say. Any other time he'd skillfully deflect the question and take ownership of the conversation before she'd realize what's going on.

Unfortunately this isn't "any other time," and after recent events he's not exactly in the mood for his friendly act. Coming back to the Sanctum and seeing his so-called flightmates wasting their time having a party is bad enough-- but this?

"It sounds -- and smells -- as if you've had a little too much to drink. I said no such thing," Qilby replies acidly, flinging the flowers back on the table. He looks down his nose at Apollo, matching her narrow-eyed glare with one of his own. "And even if I did, what are you complaining about? You seemed more than willing to take orders from me before, and I'm certainly more than qualified to give them."

The friendly act may have gotten Apollo to stop being as hostile, maybe. But it kind of doesn't seem to matter - he's not taking any of her bullshit, and in turn, she doesn't seem happy to settle with his answer, either.

"Not to me, an' maybe the others too I dunno, at least." She absolutely does sound and smell like she's had a bit too much to drink. But she's awfully sure about this (even if she's misinformed), and she doesn't seem eager to back down. "But greenflight's leader told me you're blackflight's leader, an' that you told... someone, an' hey fuck off, I ain't ever taken orders from you." At least she's pretty sure she hasn't. Has she? "Yeah? I control every sea Ce Monde's got an' I've got a fuckin' fleet of the navy's finest stolen ships an' more, the fuck makes you qualified anyway?"

"And you take the word of a Greensworn over that of one of your own flightmates?" he says, arching a brow.

But now that he thinks about it, a couple of lightly slurred words between the rest are starting to sound a little familiar. The Blue Flight? She must be talking about the conversation he had with that Bluesworn at the Ruby Sanctum so many weeks ago. He should've expected the idiot to do everything but deliver his message to the person he wanted him to deliver it to, but he wasn't exactly counting on him to apparently tell all the other flights about it.

Even so, Qilby's not about to confess that now -- not after all this -- so it looks like he's going to go ahead and have this argument. No matter. It's about time the question of Black Flight's leadership was answered, anyway.

"Perhaps I'm mistaken to think that millennia of experience as the leader of my race qualifies me for the position," he says, voice dripping with so much irony that he almost convinces himself he's telling the truth (he should have been king and really, that's all that matters.) "But certainly the fact that I'm the only one who's done anything to further our flight's cause here must count for something, wouldn't you say?"

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assume this is before she starts fighting with qilby ('8

Will do!

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