Azar was completely focused on Trael, getting lost into those brilliant blue eyes. He always found them especially fascinating because the eye color didn’t exist among his people. They always reminded him of the vast seas he feared, and it actually bothered him when he found streaks of yellow in them. Azar had missed the extent of Vossari’s fall initially, the music starting as the Pureblood would finally have the dance he had been waiting for since well over a year ago.
He caught some movement from Vossari and briefly started to glance over as he took that first twirl into the dance. However, that was when Trodai’s voice echoed within his mind. Azar’s head turned towards Vossari again, spotting the blood, sensing the distress, sensing the pain. The Force pulsed so powerfully through Azar that Trael standing directly in front of him would feel as if a sudden wave of water crashed right through him. The rage was solely directed at Trodai standing back near by the bar.
SILENCE. His voice would boom through Trodai’s mind with enough force and anger that his nose and ears would begin to leak very thin trails of blood. The glass in his hand would crack from the reverberating aftermath. It was an abrupt, concussive blow within his mind and would send shockwaves through his head with horrific pain. Azar wouldn’t do anything overt with so much media presence, but externally Trodai would appear to have an agonizing headache.
Azar stepped away from Trael, and politely excused himself through the crowds towards the bathroom. A casual wave of his hand and a few male guests standing at urinals abruptly turned and vacantly walked out of the bathroom without even zipping up again. Azar never stopped walking, stopping by Vossari, “Let me see,” He said as he gently grasped the Wrean by the chin to turn his head towards himself. Concern flashed clearly in his eyes as he took over the duty of dabbing away the blood, using the Force to reset the nose if it shifted, “Are you all right, love?” Azar asked gently.
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