Azmere was still a bit groggy from his nap but it was better than nothing. Having spent half of the night chasing down his food thief had burned his morning and the past few bells of sleep were needed. He sat down with a bucket of water and mixed in some dried flowers. He began to scrub away the crap of the last few days making sure to hit all of the important areas but focusing mainly on his upper body and face. His friend had gotten married. Though it had been a while since they had last had occasion to visit, Azmere felt it important to show his support. A few more chimes of freshening up had the archer feeling as though he had done enough. He even shaved off his stubble though that was a weekly kind of thing. Azmere got dressed in his nicer wool shirt and new pair of pants. He used the same pavilion and clan wraps that he had worn for the festival and spent the next fifteen chimes adorning his frame with trinkets. It wasn’t that he wanted to, in fact he hated it but special events like this deserve an extra effort in such matters.
The Drykas stepped from his tent and tossed on his cloak. He settled his quiver into one of the yvas bags and his club into the other. He didn’t need to wear his weapons but the dagger went into his belt and the bow went over his head and shoulder. He could leave the bow on the yvas handle once he arrived but didn’t feel comfortable roaming about without Vihar. He moved to the larger tent in his pavilion and peeked his head in through the flap. He signed to his mother goodbye and tried to leave but was stopped short by the small woman.
“Not so fast, Az.” She was the only one who called him that. “You have to take this.” She moved through the tent and handed him a large crock that was big enough to store grain or even make stew. It had a lid and was decorated with the Whipmane style of knots in a line down one side and Windstride style knotting down the other. The lid had a Stormblood knot on it. Azmere smirked and took the jar then leaned down and kissed his mother on the side of her head just wear her soft hair went over her temple.
“Couldn’t resist, could you?” He smiled his crooked smile and walked to Hephiestian. He very carefully wrapped the gift in his winter blanket and then stashed it securely in the yvas bag. He had to transfer the club to the other side, however but that didn’t take long. The older woman watched her son with love in her eyes and a smirk on her lips.
“You look awfully handsome. Maybe Graham can introduce you to some of his wife’s friends…” Her voice was coy but there was a playfulness to her tone. Still, the comment got her a free look of disdain from Azmere. The women tossed her hands and went back into the tent. The Drykas mounted his stallion and turned him with practiced ease. He squeezed his knees on the steed’s flanks and they were off at a nice casual gallop. After several chimes of easy riding, Azmere slowed Hephiestian with some clicks of his tongue and a relaxed posture atop the creature. This allowed him to walk his strider right up to the party. Azmere stopped the big oaf with a pull on the yvas handle and then slid off to the side landing without incident. He removed Vihar then lovingly placed it on the yvas. He carefully removed the gift and unwrapped the blanket. He took the time to neatly fold it back up before stuffing it into his bag.
The archer strode amongst the gathering not paying much attention to the people. He noticed some that he recognized but no one interesting. He disliked parties. The drinking, the shouting, the contests of every sort and the thing he couldn’t stand the most was the constant prying of the elders and ankals to arrange every single person to another single person. Seriously, a young man or woman couldn’t walk anywhere in the Tent City without someone commenting on who would be a good match. Azmere say the groom with that big doofus smile and his lovely little bride. He shook the thoughts from his head and moved forth with a warm smile as crooked as a dog’s hind leg, as some would say. He waited his turn for a few people to say their well-wishes and slowly eased forth in the crowd. He ignored an older woman with round cheeks and gossiping lips who harrumphed on his approach. If he remembered people correctly, it was an aunt or something to the bride. Azmere moved ahead another step and tried to block the whispering that was not so quiet from his mind. Crazy woman was ruining his calm.
Azmere closed his eyes for a moment and suddenly had a thought. Graham had yet to see the change his eyes had undergone. Would he think it cool? Would he freak out? Would Azmere scare this Ife person? Wouldn’t
that be a story to tell.
”Hey son, how’d things go at the party?”
“Great. I showed up and gave them the gift.”
“Then what happened?”
“Then the bride snapped upon seeing a big guy all scarred up with creepy eyes and she smashed the crock on my head right before she ran away crying and screaming.”
“Aww. She smashed the crock?”
Azmere instantly became nervous. His body language changed and the proud stance gave way to a defeated or tired sway. It was his turn and Azmere moved quickly but his motions were a bit mechanical. He signed congratulations to Graham and Ife knowing the big lug enough to realize he was in for a hug so Az simply clutched the crock and braced for it. Once that was out of the way he offered a genuine smile. “She’s too pretty for you, Graham.” Azmere plugged that line perfectly as if had practiced it on the way over…which he might have. He offered the jar to the new Whipmane. “From the Stormbloods. I am Azmere.” Once ife would take the jar, Az would sign his congratulations again. With a look back to Graham, one of the few people who was at eye level, Azmere gave him a stern hug then stepped back. “I must go.” He threw up signs for work and unfinished. He bowed to the couple with a polite nod and turned to leave. He paused and turned back around. “We should hunt again.”
Azmere pivoted once more and made a dart for Hephiestian. The thought of leaving was making him feel better already. He slung the bow over his head and arm and hopped up onto the yvas. It was time to be leaving this crowded place. As he turned the stallion to leave, his eyes caught sight of Amunet. He smiled and waved at her in a common greeting among the Drykas. He could go say hi but he didn’t know if she would even want to talk. She looked a bit thin in the face like she’d been sick and the way she was holding her head indicated a bit of illness or a certain red head had too much to drink last night. Regardless, Azmere nudged Hephiestian and guided them away from the city towards the endless horizon. A good ride in silence does wonders for a clouded mind.
