[open] morning glow starts to glimmer when you know

[truthandlyres]

Characters: Apollo and anyone else!
Setting/Location: The lookout
Date & Time: Day 60, morning
Warnings: N/A
Summary: Apollo has breakfast

Comments

[getsthelastword]

Damon woke up in a particularly good mood. It probably had something to do with the satisfaction of his first decent meal since arriving in this godforsaken place. Call it a high. A blood high

[truthandlyres]

Well, so much for being alone. Though, if Apollo were reasonable, he'd have to admit that sitting out on an open balcony was probably not the best place to go if he wanted to avoid company.

Softly, he clucked his tongue in annoyance. Well, too late to change plans now. Besides, it was possible the dark haired man had no more interest in conversation than he did. Most people weren't too chatty at this time of the day, he'd come to realize. Apollo was, for the most part, still considering a dream he'd had. It had been somewhat disturbing. He had been fighting to protect Cassandra from a bear, but at some point, the bear had turned out to be his sister.

He had absolutely no idea what an oracle might say about that, and he didn't want to think about it too much. He didn't really want to think at all just now. Briefly, Apollo nodded his head at the other man and turned to look back out at the passing landscape.

[getsthelastword]

Thoughtfully, Damon ran his tongue along the tops of his upper teeth. There was definite alpha male potential here. The guy was pretty good looking. He could, Damon admitted, have a measure of cool quotient, but something was amiss.

What was it?

"Hey," he murmured absently, as if the word would somehow give him the power to figure it out.

Okay, that was completely demented. Damon shook his head at his own folly. Sometimes, he chalked his instincts up to moments of vampiric brilliance. Sometimes, he was pretty sure he was getting close to that point where he would finally, completely, go round the bend.

[truthandlyres]

In the manner of a man who had dealt with many inconsiderate people over the years, Apollo let out a long suffering sigh. So much for the possibility of politely ignoring each other's presence. Still. If they were really going to be stuck in this place together, Apollo knew he had to make an honest attempt to be nice to other people.

No one, unfortunately, could really get by on their own. At least, not any mortals.

"Hello," Apollo said, turning to give the other man a polite smile. "Good morning."

[getsthelastword]

Damon's eyes widened. There were such precious moments in life, those wonderful ah ha moments when everything suddenly clicked, when everything suddenly made sense. Damon was able to cast aside all concerns about going around the bend (for the time being) as everything fell into place.

"You're the guy who was crying on the network!" he said, finally figuring out why the potential alpha male had put him off.

So much for ideas of alpha males. Alpha males never cried over public communication networks.

"I thought I recognized your voice, dude."

[truthandlyres]

Apollo growled quietly before he could stop the noise. This day was not getting any better with time. "There was magic involved," he tersely replied. This must have been the man who had been offering rather annoying advice.

He didn't owe him any explanation, so Apollo turned back to look at the passing scenery. Hopefully this guy would get the message.

[getsthelastword]

There were many adjectives that could be used to describe Damon. Sensitive was not one of them.

Not that he cared.

Damon took a few more steps out onto the lookout, giving the other man a curious look. "You're the one who's cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs over Crazy Cassie, right?" Damon didn't wait for an answer, he remembered the whole conversation well enough.

It had been hilarious.

"The name is Damon Salvatore," he said breezily.

[truthandlyres]

"Apollo," he answered, lightly pinching the bridge of his nose. "And her name is just Cassandra." He wouldn't dignify the rest of that question with an answer. His most private feelings had been put out in an embarrassing display for everyone to read. He didn't particularly have any desire to discuss them in further detail.

"I haven't seen you before," he decided to say instead. A change of topic was necessary. "Are you new?"

[getsthelastword]

Was he new? Damon wanted to laugh. He was very, very old. But on the off chance that this dude was actually some kind of Greek god or something...well, then he had Damon beat.

Of course, it wasn't possible. This guy wasn't a Greek god. He was just...well, Damon didn't know what he was.

"I guess I am," he replied, easily leaning against the railing and trying hard not to think about the enormous ass jiggling on the other side. "Just arrived here a few days ago, after a wonderful," he rolled his eyes, "six month stint in the second circle of hell, otherwise known as Rowan." He shrugged. "How long have you been stuck here?"

[truthandlyres]

Apollo ignored the question, choosing instead to focus on the comment about the circle of hell (whatever that meant). "Rowan?" he asked, turning to finally pay some attention to Damon. His brow furrowed. "The same Rowan that Cassandra came from?"

Well, that made four, didn't it? Insufferable Jack, the boy named Bret whom it was hard to take seriously, perky Bonnie with bushels of hair, and now the entirely too nosy Damon Salvatore.

He wondered if Cassandra would try to protect this one from him as well.

[getsthelastword]

"Yeah," Damon said. "That's how I know her." Not that he really knew Crazy Cassie. Or cared to know her. Way too much drama there. So much, that she wasn't even bite-worthy, really. Crazy tended to leave a bad taste in Damon's mouth. Like liver or earwax or something.

Damon leaned back, leveling his eyes on this Apollo person. He reached out with his senses, trying to get some mental read on him, to sense something about him. It really sucked not being able to control his powers. Damon could only hope to get a fix on something. Anything.

"There seem to be a few of us," Damon muttered, his mind not at all on what he was saying, which came out in his absent tone of voice. "Me, Bonnie, Cassie, Brety boy." He shrugged. "Rejected by two worlds and counting, apparently."

[truthandlyres]

"I'm familiar with the group," Apollo replied levelly. Cassandra had raised such a fuss about trying to keep them away, he couldn't help but know exactly who they were. "Someone named Jack as well, I believe."

"What was she like there?" He kept his tone casual, a tone he had perfected long ago. "Cassandra is always a bit of an enigma. At least, to those who don't know her well."

That was putting it lightly.

[getsthelastword]

Damon raised both eyebrows at mention of Jack. "Honeyboy is here too?" he muttered. That was a little strange. The man was such a chatterbox, Damon was surprised he hadn't heard so much as a whisper from that limey bastard so far. "Interesting

[truthandlyres]

Apollo had no idea what Damon was saying. Honeyboy? Worldwalker? And who was Molly Ringwald? Cassandra hadn't mentioned anyone by that name. Then again, she did keep a lot of secrets.

Still. He was pretty sure he didn't like the way this guy was talking about Damon. "She's always been attractive," Apollo chose to conversationally respond. No need to show how ruffled his feathers were. "As much as she'd always had a tendency to annoy people."

[getsthelastword]

"I believe that," Damon said with a bit of a laugh. "The part about her annoying people. Seen it first hand, heard about it second hand." Mostly from Bonnie. "She was probably the least popular bar wench at the Frolicking Stoat."

Was wench offensive? Damon couldn't really keep track. Back in the day, it just meant a woman from the country. Then it became a whore. And at some point in the transition between the 1980s and the 1990s, it became a weird sort of lesbian term of endearment. Damon wondered what the word meant here in Willa-whatever.

"So, are you like, a god or something?"

[truthandlyres]

"Or something," Apollo confirmed. Normally, he expected that proclamation to come with some sort of awe--or at least a degree of respect. Damon Salvatore, Apollo could tell, was not the reverent sort. He didn't wait for any proclamation of adoration from this one.

"What is a bar wench?" he asked, furrowing his brow. He prayed that it wasn't a prostitute. That would have only further damaged Cassandra, and to a certain degree, would have cheapened their night together.