Irwin sneezed for what felt like the fiftieth time. At least, it would've felt like the fiftieth time if his nose hadn't long since gone numb. It was slightly pink, raw from his handkerchief. He lifted the aforementioned square of cloth and cleared his nose again with a prodigious honk. A clean corner was sufficient for swiping at his watering eyes. It was all the damnable pollen. It wasn't enough the have the manor surrounded by the awful plants, the whole wretched countryside had to be covered in colorful, contemptible flowers. And the birds. Plague it all and let it rot. Irwin pinched at a headache forming between his brows.
The town circle was a dizzying display of garish color. It wasn't enough to have gaudy flora and noisy fauna, the very stonework had been littered all over with graffiti. He lifted a shoe to find pink, purple, and green smears of chalk dust coloring the bottom of his sole. He had half a mind to throw the shoes out.
He'd found a quiet, shaded nook between two buildings to watch from as events unfolded throughout the town. The Aurellians certainly loved their festivals. Standing for long periods didn't bother Irwin, and to his delight, a few children shot him wary looks as they passed by. He was a black garbed, stony faced sentinel. He would observe and report anything untoward to his lord.
Speaking of untoward, there was a very familiar mop of black hair on the horizon. Could it be? Certainly, no. But was it? Irwin had to be sure. He had no problem cutting through the throng of people, given his height.
"My Lord Rosier." Irwin called out, certain now that he was closer. "Sir, a moment please."