Swiftcurrent Creek [m] Got to let go, we can dance like there's no tomorrow

In honesty Akavir couldn't get out of there quicker—the strange tension that coiled the air and the mere fact that none of it felt like his business. So when Lestan seemed eager to stay, and Arric seemed settled, the man rose, a nod given to them—gaze lingering on Reverie as she piped up a sheepish thank you, to which his muzzle would dip lower, he swept away, eager to put the strange vibe of this entire meeting behind him.