Countless sleepless nights and equally long, frenzied days were but a small price to pay for the honor of hosting the Winsol Ball in Little Terreille. Lysandar, along with the entirety of Kali's court had done everything possible to make sure that the night proved to be as flawless as they all hoped. Being the Steward of course left the Eyrien with the job of contacting anyone and everyone, sending out the invitations and overall just making sure everything went as smoothly as Lady Desmond had planned. The past couple of days had been filled with meeting and greeting the various people from the other territories of both Terreille and Kaeleer; making sure they were comfortable and everything was to their liking when they settled in. Lysandar had kept in frequent contact with the Housekeeper and her hearth witches recently, collaborating so things were as pristine as could be. Meredyth was quite the firecracker, but she did her job well and the two managed to keep everything in order.

But finally, the time for rehearsing and preparing was over and the night of the Winsol ball was upon them. Lysandar striaghtened his suit - of which it took him an obscene amount of time to find; Eyrien clothing was few and far between in Little Terreille - and cast one last glance around his office before heading down to the main event. Everything looked stunning from the decorations to the food and everything in between. Charles and Tom were as polite as could be and made excellent doormen. Greeting the two Warlord with a smile, the Purple Dusk-jeweled Eyrien stepped inside and couldn't help but feel a proud smile cross his face. Between him and the rest of Kali's court, it was done. People were laughing, dancing and just enjoying themselves in general, it seemed.

Being the systematic person that he was, and lacking of any kind of date for the night, the Steward took it upon himself to go around and greet all of the newcomers, checking in on how they were doing and making sure everything was to their liking - it was doubtful that the man would have forgiven himself if anything had gone wrong this evening. Looking around, the Eyrien was simply stunned for a moment; never before had he seen such a diverse group of people all in one area, it was almost overwhelming. Dea al Mon, Hayllians, fellow Eyriens... every group seemed represented and there were many court members from the other territories. Getting the chance to meet all these people was astounding for the Warlord and most everyone was quite gracious, which was a profound relief. After briefly conversing with a fellow who hailed from Chaillot, Lysandar shuffled along and made his way up to another person with a bright, polite smile. "Good evening! Welcome, welcome! How are you this fine night? I hope everything is to your liking? Any problems?"

The Winsol ball was quite enjoyable, if he did say so himself. That Robyn had been an excellent and fun dance partner, and they had parted ways on good terms. Silte had gone back to play another round of songs, and someone from Terreille had recognized him and requested a tumbling performance. It had soon escalated into an all-out contest between the musicians and several of the guests, leading them to perform ever more daring acrobatic feats. Between somersaults, flips, handsprings, and cartwheels, the performer had admired the talent present in Terreille and thought ruefully about how they would likely never get to join the Ruil.

At last he had to excuse himself from the action; brushing some of the dust off his flexible suit that he had commissioned specifically for varied performances, he made his way over to the bar, his chest rising and falling quickly from the frenzied gymnastics. Just asking for iced water, he nodded thankfully before slowly sipping at his beverage.

Once his mind decided to stop monitering his own heartbeat, he started idly looking people over, seeing if he recognized any of them. He did, but it was a select few compared to the rest of the guests. And the Prince couldn't help but wonder at the presence of the Dea al Mon, the mysterious Children of the Wood who he had only seen at the previous Winsol ball. Their golden hair, pale skin, and delicately pointed ears, combined with their easy grace, were characteristics that Silte hadn't really seen too often.

Finally his heart slowed and his breathing returned to normal. Performing always pushed him to greater efforts; he would jump higher, flip faster, and tumble for a longer period of time than he ever did while practicing. This resulted in him tiring more easily, and he was almost positive that he'd be a little sore the next day. Still, for an attentive audience, it was worth it.

Leaning against the wall, the musician idly let his mind wander. His gaze drifted across the sea of people as he absentmindedly sipped at his water. Then one person caught his eye: an Eyrien male. In a suit. The image was a little incongruous; what was more, he seemed to be smiling and greeting all of the guests. A curious sight indeed. Smiling, he waited as the man came closer to him, but was still a bit surprised when the Eyrien greeted him. "Lord, everything is wonderful, thank you. It's an honor to be able to perform here, as you so poetically put it, on this fine night." A playful grin tugged at his lips as he decided to have a little... fun. "Like to dance?" he asked, his expression mischievous enough that he could have been joking. But he certainly wouldn't rescind his offer if the Warlord decided to accept.

While the Eyrien was shuffling around the room, he could only imagine what Kali would have said to him if she saw him. Most likely it would be something along the lines of a smile and telling him to relax a little. And while the woman wouldn't have been too far off in her suggestion, 'relax' just wasn't a word that was in Lysandar's vocabulary since he had become Steward. Strangely enough, however, that was perfectly fine with him - he enjoyed his job very much and couldn't have been happier. Sure, he got many strange looks for being an Eyrien in Little Terreille, and even more for being a Steward as opposed to a guard or some such thing, but he hardly minded in the slightest. The Warlord was good at what he did, and that was good enough for Lady Desmond and the rest of her court.

His attention was momentarily drawn to a slight spectacle that was occurring in the middle of the room. What started with one man requested a tumbling act from one of the guests, turned into an entire contest that Lysandar could only stand and watch in equal amusement with everyone else. That was certainly something you didn't see everyday... and apparently the man who had started it was now the one he was greeting to the ball. What a rather odd coincidence.

Upon closer inspection of the man he approached revealed him to be long-lived as well... but he lacked any wings which - for the most part- eliminated the possibility of Eyrien heritage. Perhaps he was Dhemlanese or Hayllian? There was almost something vaguely familiar about the man, like if he had seen him a long time ago... but he couldn't quite place him. "That's excellent, Prince. I'm glad you're enjoying yourself this evening," his words halted for a moment when the raven-haired man then asked about dancing.... Was he asking if the Eyrien wanted to dance? And with him? Blinking, he was slightly taken aback, but eventually shook his head in polite declination. "Your offer is too kind, Prince, but I'm afraid dancing has never been one of my strong suits. I'd do much more harm than good, for certain," his eyes lit up with his amused smile.

While most would have interpreted his words as simply trying to avoid an awkward situation, Lysandar's tone was nothing but sincere as he would have probably given the same reply if it had been a female that asked him to dance. While he might innately possess the natural, Eyrien grace and dexterity, he really had two left feet when it came to dancing. "However, you must be a wonderful dancer, if your previous performance gives any testament to your abilities. That was definitely impressive. Are you from Kaeleer? Or are you visiting for the ball from the Light Realm?"

"What a pity," Silte answered lightly, the tone more amused than regretful. "I'm sure you could learn," he added with a wicked grin, then shook his head and laughed a little. "Never mind, never mind." It really didn't bother the Prince; he'd have his fair share of dancing by the end of the night, probably with men as well as women. What was one lost dance? He needed his rest anyway, what with that insane performance he had given... on a hard floor. What had he been thinking, anyway?

The performer idly massaged a tight muscle on his neck and grimaced theatrically. "Thank you for the kind words, Lord, but I probably won't be doing that again in the near future. I'll be a little sore on the morrow, but it's always worth it if you have a good audience and other talented participants, of which there were plenty." Silte had purposely dropped part of a line into the conversation, saying "on the morrow" instead of "tomorrow", because for him it was a little more fun to say. Plays always seemed to have better conversations than would actually appear in real life. "I've been told that I'm a good dancer," he said modestly and with a little shrug, then he smiled. "But never by my childhood instructor, who I overheard saying that he didn't want it to go to my head. His favorite saying was 'You can ALWAYS do better!'" Here he switched to a perfect Hayllian accent and let out a little huff of air in amusement.

"I am, in fact, part of the hired entertainment from Terreille," Silte answered, dipping his head respectfully. "This is my first time in Kaeleer, and I must say, it's quite wonderful. I was curious as to what it would be like..." He trailed off, noticing a woman staring at them in awe. The performer raised his eyebrows at her, just enough to be an inquiry or a mild rebuke, and she scurried away. "What it would be like here in the Shadow Realm," he finished smoothly, as if nothing had happened.

"From your greeting and attire, I'm guessing you're from Little Terreille?" he asked, a half-smile tugging at the left corner of his mouth. Then he realized something, and exclaimed, "Mother Night, I've been terribly rude! We've been talking all this time and I haven't even introduced myself!" Offering his hand for a handshake, he offered his name as well. "Silte Night, of the Ruil in Terreille. And who might I have the pleasure of addressing, Lord from Little Terreille?"

Lysandar smiled lightly at the man's comments and chuckled. "I assure you, it isn't much of a pity for anyone who would end up getting smacked upside the face with what I happen to call wings. If they were aware of it, I'm quite sure they'd be immensely grateful for my lack of dancing," he paused, nodding when the Prince suggested learning. "I could, perhaps. Though my first attempts would preferably not be in a crowded room with lots of people. You understand, of course?" again, a bemused light found its way into the Eyrien's eyes as he joked casually with the man before him. While most people considered Stewards to be probably some of the most uptight sort, the Warlord was a little more lax in his behavior and was rather thankful for it - he didn't fancy boring everyone he met to tears.

Hearing the Prince thank him for the compliment, Lysandar waved a hand in a lightly dismissive gesture and shook his head. "Don't mention it. I know pure talent when I see it, and that was definitely it. But, I see your point about being sore - I can only imagine the difficulty one would have performing such acrobatics in a suit, no less... granted, yours appeared to be a little more flexible than the norm, is it not?" His curiosity piqued at the man's suit and he simply found it intriguing. But then again, the man found a lot of rather obscure things to be quite fascinating, he was quite an oddity for one of his race, that much was for sure. Listening to the man talk about some dance instructor, the Warlord chuckled and nodded. "Well... call me daft, but I'd have to agree with your teacher, then. People can always improve, can they not? If we were all perfect at everything we wanted to be, the world would be quite the boring, little place. At least in my opinion," his words drifted off with the slight shrug of his shoulders.

Again, the Purple Dusk-jeweled man fell silent and much more inclined to listen as the Red-jeweled Prince spoke. Figures, he had been hired for the entertainment, one of the few things that Kali hadn't assigned him, but rather wanted to pick out herself. That didn't bother him, of course, it just irked him that he should have recognized the man in front of him, but didn't. Listening to his greeting, Lysandar's golden eyes widened in slight shock. The Ruil! Of course! That's why the man had seemed so familiar. Lysandar had seen the Ruil before he had left Terreille and came to Kaeleer. This man was part of the Ruil and the introduction just seemed to make much more sense. "Ah. No wonder you looked familiar, Prince. I've seen the Ruil perform before. Although, that would also answer your question, wouldn't it? I'm originally from Askavi, Terreille. I recently came here and Lady Desmond appointed me as her Steward. Lysandar Myre, at your service. And of course it's an honor to meet you, Prince Night," finishing his own introduction, the Eyrien took Silte's proffered hand and gave it a firm, but friendly shake along with an equally casual smile.

Silte nodded in straight-faced agreement. He could see it now: him and the Eyrien whirling around the dance floor, forcefully clearing a path with the man's wings. Though folded, they still rose a good distance above the Warlord's shoulders; he could only imagine what damage they could do if they were stretched to their full length. "Of course, of course. How silly of me." The Prince's eyes sparkled with amusement, belying the rest of his expression. If he had been acting, of course, he would have controlled his eyes, but it was usually better not to do so in public company.

The man let a smile creep onto his face at the mention of pure talent, and he nodded in thanks, but decided not to comment. He didn't really like to appear to be conceited, and anything said in this type of situation usually seemed frightfully immodest or far too bashful for his taste. Silte jumped at the opportunity to change the topic. "Yes, it is, in fact, more than a little more flexible than normal. I commissioned it for a performance only... let's see... a year ago? I got so annoyed with the limited range of motion of my regular suit that I practically hunted down the finest clothier in Terreille. I spent an obscene amount of time arguing over what material it should be, then she spent almost as much time taking excruciatingly exact measurements. I think she might have added a hefty amount to the price because she didn't like me very much... but in the end, it was worth every mark. She did a fine job." The entertainer grasped the fabric between his forefinger and thumb and pulled. It stretched to almost twice its original length, then when he let it go it showed no sign of the abuse. Silte smiled. "I don't know how she did it, but it has served me well on numerous occasions."

The Red-Jeweled Prince sighed theatrically. "Too true. A man after his own heart. You speak wisdom. I guess it would be a bit boring. But that's not," he added with a grin, "what a boy of a hundred fifty years wanted to hear when he thought he had executed the perfect turn. I have to admit, I always had a bit of an ego that I liked to pad ever so slightly, especially as a child. It irked me to no end that he refused to be so obliging. That's probably why I tried so hard, though, so I guess he did his job well."

Silte noticed the shock of recognition in the Warlord's eyes even before he had finished his introduction, and his own eyes widened, mirroring the other's expression. "I would never have guessed. You look so at home here in Little Terreille. And the honor is mine." Out of habit, the entertainer analyzed the Eyrien's handshake. It was firm, easy, casual... and fit perfectly with his opinion of the man himself. The Prince matched his new acquaintance's style: confident, but perfectly friendly.

As the two conversed, Lysandar felt a little more relaxed and much less frantic than his previous display of behavior. He was quite certain that Kali would have approved of the change, even though he was only trying to do his job. Right? Smirking slightly, the Eyrien nodded to Silte’s agreeing comment and noted the slight twinkle in the Prince’s eyes. Yes, this man definitely had the air of a performer and certainly belied the jovial attitude for one. Folding his arms in a relaxed position against his chest, a slight smile tugged at the Warlord’s lips when he noticed the Prince’s reaction to his compliment. Everyone liked being recognized in a positive manner, and however humble the Red-jeweled man was trying to be, it was still a tad evident. But, he wasn’t one to say that modesty was a bad thing – there were far too many people with a conceited streak running around as it were.

When the topic shifted again to Silte’s attire, the Purple Dusk Warlord watched in slight awe at how the suit stretched and then just as quickly returned to its normal state. Listening to the Prince talk, Lysandar let out a small chuckle when he talked about the price and how the seamstress might not have liked him very much. “Some tailors do seem to share that trait. Gaining their satisfaction in upping the price of things for completely unrelated reasons. But, it does very well look like it was worth it – it certainly must be one-of-a-kind and it’s rather impressive. I found it was difficult enough to find someone to find someone willing to tailor to an Eyrien when not in Askavi, but thankfully Lady Desmond managed to procure a willing person for the occasion,” concluding the statements with a neutral shrug, he turned his attention once again to the fellow long-lived man in front of him. When Silte seemed to share his feelings about perfection and his own former feelings of being a youngster, it made him grin. Weren’t most young men the epitome of cockiness? Definitely. While Lysandar had of course been a little more humble than his twin, the two brothers did share almost the same sense of ‘invincibility’ when they were much younger. That was definitely a shared trait with most males. “What young male doesn’t have an ego as high as the sky, though? Hmm? A simple fact of life and just ever-wanting to prove everyone wrong in our youthful arrogance, yes?” Again, a laugh and an easy grin.

Seeing his expression mirrored, it was a little shocking that the Prince seemed just as surprised as he was. Had he really become so meshed with his work and the Territory that he looked to not be from the true home of the Eyriens? That was probably a double-edged sword both for the fact that he was doing his job very well then… but the slight pondering of if he was becoming… boring perhaps? Shaking his head of the strange train of thought, Lysandar smiled and nodded “Thank you for the kind words, at least. I suppose looking like I feel at home here comes with the job, does it not? Not that I don’t, of course, genuinely feel at home here – Lady Desmond does nothing but make sure that her people are well taken care of. I’m sure you can only imagine the odd looks I get, however, when I feel the need for a quick flight. Little Terreillans are much less used to Eyriens than I had hoped. The ones who know me aren’t nearly as edgy about it, though.”

Silte let out a gusty sigh. "Ah yes, the days of youthful arrogance. And the days when everyone put up with it because they would just say 'that's how boys are'. If I tried that now one of the other members of my troupe would likely behave like most males of your species and have me flat on my back, brandishing a stick in my face." He made a face. "And knowing my troupe, it would probably be Savia. Crazy woman. She's the only one who'd have the guts to do it, and probably the most capable, the little vixen." A wry half-smile appeared on his face at the mention of her character traits. He remembered a certain episode at an audition not too long ago... not that he was complaining, as he'd done the same thing countless times on stage. "Oh, Sav. She'd get away with it, too, and she knows it."

He was glad of the change of subject, because despite the brotherly affection he felt for Savia, it wouldn't do him any good to think of the naughtier pranks she had pulled, at least not in public, anyway. "Glad to hear you feel at home. And from my brief interaction with Lady Desmond, she does seem to be that type, doesn't she? Always trying to make people comfortable around her. Yes, I suppose getting entrenched in the affairs of Little Terreille would help, wouldn't it? It's not as though you live here and take care of the Territory or anything...."

The Prince shook his head admiringly. "I envy you, Lord Myre. I've spent enough time in Askavi to see the enjoyment Eyriens get out of just a quick flight. I must admit, I've always been curious as to how it felt, and even went so far as to ask an Eyrien woman who joined the Ruil to show me what it was like. She obliged, but it wasn't very realistic because she wore a very light Jewel." He shook his head again. "A pity the wandering life wasn't for her. She didn't feel like she fit in, and she left. We were all sorry to see her go; she was an excellent musician. I hope she's happy, wherever she is. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if I had settled down instead of roaming throughout Terreille, what it would be like to have a real home instead of the wagons." An uncommonly serious expression crossed his face as he stood pensively. "I don't think I could ever leave my troupe, though. When you grow up in such a life it's hard to imagine yourself doing anything else. You understand, yes?" A poignat smile touched his lips, turning into a purely happy one at the thought of something else. "But you're never lonely. Everyone is almost like an extension of your own being, and that's probably what I love most about it. Mother Night," he said laughingly, "the moment I start to run on like this I try to get everyone to join. My apologies. I must have sounded like I was trying to convert you to being a wanderer as well."