Well, it didn't last long, it seemed. Imani crossed the distance with graceful strides to snag Draugr away once more, requesting another dance that the Kel'dor doubted the Zabrak would simply ignore. No, not if he was head over heels for the woman. Would they make a permanent pair? Time would tell, Sol supposed. But regardless, that left Sol. The chaos seemed to have winded down. The drama had settled beneath the waves. Would it re-emerge? Perhaps. Sol's not sure he'll be around for it though, as the night crawled onward and the stars glistened across inky skies, a tiredness pricked upon blazing vision to streak through his veins and settle like weights within his pointed claws.
The Sith was just about spent for the evening, it seemed. Perhaps if he had a decent sleep schedule, as opposed to keeping himself up for fruitful study or mad experimentation, Sol might feel a bit less fatigued. Ah, but changing one's habits was no simple matter, no easy thing for such an intense man to do. For now, though, the party, once a fanciful ball of gowns and fine suits, dragged on into a more modern routine. Well, perhaps the Kel'dor could still snag one last dance before he left for the evening. His former had been snatched so rudely from him, after all. Sol strides through the crowd, slips gracefully around the individual passing out burritos, and heads directly back towards the one man Sol thought he might be able to count on.
Still dressed in his unblemished suit, glistening beneath the party lights, Sol slithers quietly through the gathered crowd to approach his prey. Disgraced as the Champion might have been, Sol knows the other as a man who got things done. Conquering Elrood. Rooting out the Killiks on Dromund Kaas. The Kel'dor might have been the distrustful type, but thus far, he had only ever been able to rely upon Caelian, despite all the accusation. Draugr might have simply seen a combat dummy to bully and abuse, but if Caelian was akin to a shard of coal, then the pressure was undoubtedly transforming him into a gem. He would serve the Sith well, of this Sol was certain.
It seemed Caelian had similar ideas, nefarious and wriggling like serpents within his mind. The other man approaches Sol, extends a hand in silent offer. And so, despite the attention it might garner, despite the distasteful looks that might be shot his way, the Kel'dor extends his hand in turn, silver talon-guards glistening as he takes the other's grip within gentle claws. A half-bow was a regal gesture as Sol's eyes glitter deviously behind his mask.
"The night grows late, but the fires of my heart still burn with yearning." A teasing smirk pulls upon the polite man's lips. "Was that romantic enough?" He lets out a quiet chuff akin to an amused jolt of short-lived laughter, a noise of humor heard above the chatter of others around them. "I am not a poet, but I do know how to dance." Sol practically purrs, and for the moment, he can forget his tiredness, the weight of his boots and the dazzling glow of the ballroom lights. He can even forget the apparent burrito projectiles flying through the group to stain dresses and suits alike. The madness doesn't interrupt the Kel'dor's glide toward the dance-floor, though, his newfound partner in hand.
@Xorism
The Sith was just about spent for the evening, it seemed. Perhaps if he had a decent sleep schedule, as opposed to keeping himself up for fruitful study or mad experimentation, Sol might feel a bit less fatigued. Ah, but changing one's habits was no simple matter, no easy thing for such an intense man to do. For now, though, the party, once a fanciful ball of gowns and fine suits, dragged on into a more modern routine. Well, perhaps the Kel'dor could still snag one last dance before he left for the evening. His former had been snatched so rudely from him, after all. Sol strides through the crowd, slips gracefully around the individual passing out burritos, and heads directly back towards the one man Sol thought he might be able to count on.
Still dressed in his unblemished suit, glistening beneath the party lights, Sol slithers quietly through the gathered crowd to approach his prey. Disgraced as the Champion might have been, Sol knows the other as a man who got things done. Conquering Elrood. Rooting out the Killiks on Dromund Kaas. The Kel'dor might have been the distrustful type, but thus far, he had only ever been able to rely upon Caelian, despite all the accusation. Draugr might have simply seen a combat dummy to bully and abuse, but if Caelian was akin to a shard of coal, then the pressure was undoubtedly transforming him into a gem. He would serve the Sith well, of this Sol was certain.
It seemed Caelian had similar ideas, nefarious and wriggling like serpents within his mind. The other man approaches Sol, extends a hand in silent offer. And so, despite the attention it might garner, despite the distasteful looks that might be shot his way, the Kel'dor extends his hand in turn, silver talon-guards glistening as he takes the other's grip within gentle claws. A half-bow was a regal gesture as Sol's eyes glitter deviously behind his mask.
"The night grows late, but the fires of my heart still burn with yearning." A teasing smirk pulls upon the polite man's lips. "Was that romantic enough?" He lets out a quiet chuff akin to an amused jolt of short-lived laughter, a noise of humor heard above the chatter of others around them. "I am not a poet, but I do know how to dance." Sol practically purrs, and for the moment, he can forget his tiredness, the weight of his boots and the dazzling glow of the ballroom lights. He can even forget the apparent burrito projectiles flying through the group to stain dresses and suits alike. The madness doesn't interrupt the Kel'dor's glide toward the dance-floor, though, his newfound partner in hand.
@Xorism