His mind begins to consider the possibility of catching some of the fish in the river and the merits of sleeping outside against haggling for a room with any straw in the inn when the water rises up and smacks him in the face.
He falls back, catching himself with his palms, brow furrowed and mouth open. Then it returns to one of his usual scowls as he searches the waters, wondering if some freak miniature geyser had erupted as he had stooped down to drink.
Nothing. And the water was otherwise empty and clear to the bottom, so no fish had slapped the water at him with its fin. Yasuo looks around. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d run in with some crazed sorcerer, but this doesn’t seem to be the work of magic. He pulls his cloak over his head and drops it onto the grass, leaving him in a faded undershirt.
He’d rather keep that dry in case of sudden rain. Now he reflects back onto the river, his mind searching for explanations for why nature had decided to spring several pranks on him.
“I’ve heard the stories of the signs and omens,” he mutters to the air, “but this is just ridiculous.”
The sight of his shock from her little blast of water tickled her a fair bit, but his complete disregard for even the possibility of her presence or any presence was too much for her to handle now. With a sigh that would knock a child off of its feet, she decides it is about time to show herself.
Winds gust and swirl next to him creating a small cyclone, pulling and pushing at everything in its path, but the harshness lasts only a moment. In the next, Janna appears, swirling into her human form sitting on her knees next to where the man had dropped his cloak. Her staff lays in the grass beside her and she stares into the river.