It is what they want from her.
Expect, even, and while she could weave any narrative that she wishes and embellish the details until they lean towards absurdity, Azem nevertheless takes care to make sure that the tales she tells are true. After all, one day, there will be another Azem. Must be. And this next to take on the role of the Fourteenth Seat might be found among those who gather around her to request stories of her travels; might already feel the pull of the paths of the star beyond the city and be drawn to where they are meant to be by something that they hear from her.
Just as she was, already out of step with those around her and awaiting visits and tales of adventure from she who had watched over her from a distance since her infancy.
She has made them laugh today, for it was what bright gazes plainly desired, though her wandering through her recounting of this particular incident has found her leaning heavily on facets that are amusing in hindsight, if not so at the time, and underplaying others with a neat sidestepping and careful choice of words.
They wanted to laugh, and so they have, and she spots not one among those who have crowded around her who has truly heard her story for what it is. None who have interrogated what they have not been told, or what she has skimmed over.
Except for one.
Across the way, Emet-Selch is scowling.