“Ah… the aged, crazed King of Ikana… that was my dad’s conclusion, too,” he commented, with a small nod- as if the idea made enough sense to him- “I suppose twenty five years of static silence from the rest of the world could certainly do that…” 
Anemos’ fingers stilled, as he fell momentarily into a deeper pondering, dredging up decades old memories in the hopes of recalling any mention whatsoever of Igos’ delirium in his youth…
But, although he recalled his time in Ikana fairly vividly, it seemed he hadn’t retained any information of that sort. 
“Hrm…”, he pressed his finger to his chin, his brow steadily becoming more thorough, “Curious…”

This state of contemplation was short-lived, at least, and dissipated the moment Anemos realised his companion had continued speaking despite him. 
Her second point, he thought, seemed more rational: He followed her gaze, staring up at the sky above them, as she spoke.
“Expansion… well, that certainly would be a monarch’s modus operandi, wouldn’t it? Ikana was once an empire, I’m sure there’s not a soul there that wouldn’t want the same again.”
He paused, and frowned at the thought, “Hell, after all those years, I’m sure I’d want more, too.”

He closed his eyes for a few seconds, savouring the sun against his skin: It brought him a moment’s peace, before he opened them again, and caught sight of the sun’s position.
He might’ve been spared practice, but there was still physical labour to be done at [i]The Spectacle Rock Circus[/i] if it was to be prepared for tomorrow evening, and he’d need to get his share done quickly if he truly intended on attending his “rivals’” show.
Quickly, he got out of his seat, before throwing an apologetic smile to [i]’Alysha’[/i].
“My apologies, but it looks as though my free time is up! Still, it was a pleasure,” he bowed again, hurriedly but with a bit more sincerity this time, “I’ll be sure to greet you when next I see you!”, he assured her, a playfulness overtaking his features, “Well, dependent on how many guards there are on your heel.”

With that, he turned to leave, before freezing mid-step- the heel of his back foot still arched- and glancing over his shoulder.
“Oh, and… what you said earlier about ‘riding the wind’s breath’,” he began, placing his staff once again against his back, “I liked that. Very accurate.”
He turned away from her again, and splayed his fingers out at each of his sides, inhaling deeply as he did so. 
Then- as if summoned from the ether, which, arguably, it was- a sharp, sudden blast of air erupted from his palms, rushing downwards in a short-lived jet.
At this point, Anemos propped his foot on the crate he’d been sitting on, before kicking off of it, and- with the sort of grace one should have expected from a circus performer- rising into the air, then gliding down onto an adjacent rooftop, his cape billowing behind him. 
Upon landing, he nodded softly to Alex, before sprinting off in search of his tent.