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!