Ridahne's eyebrows raised as she nodded, though she seemed surprised by the information Darin gave her. Ridahne had heard the term 'old maid' and knew it referred to an older, unmarried woman, and she knew that it held some vague negative context. But she'd pictured that to mean someone who was quite a bit older, gray haired, wrinkled, aging. Not 25. "That small a window of time for you humans, then? You must have to marry someone you grew up with, or else you don't get to know them more than a few years before you commit to marry them. Do you really feel like you can know someone in that short a time?" The idea seemed alien to her; her parents had known each other for many, many years before they actually wed. 

"Well if it makes you feel better, I am one hundred and three years old, and I am not married. I am still young by elvish reckoning, though I suppose I am expected to find a partner by my age. Hadian, my brother, already has. He is older than me by about ten years, but ten is not so far away, when you think about it." She gave a slightly wan smile. "You will meet him when we come to Azurei. He is another that knows of my quest and so will know who you are when you see him, but he was told to keep silent about it. He married quite recently, actually I...I missed his wedding. About three months ago." She fiddled with her reins a bit as a note of sadness crept into her voice, and then almost visibly she hardened a bit and sat up straight, her expression somewhere between impassive and determined. 

"You're not missing out on much though, not being married. Love is...well it sounds like a nice idea, but really it's complicated and messy and can actually be quite painful so..." She stared straight ahead, her lips pursed in a thin line. Ridahne shook her head gently. "It's almost better not to get involved. Less chance of you dragging someone else down with you when your life goes wrong, or vice versa." 

Subconsciously, Ridahne was convinced that there was nothing Ajoran could have ever done that would make her feel ashamed of him, of her tie with him. And yet she felt with strong conviction that such mercy did not apply to her. If she had kept ties with him like they had done for so long, she would only sink him, and together the two would crash and burn in their own shame. In her shame. She remembered that guilt the most from that fateful day. She resolved that she could not--would not be the stone around his neck when he was otherwise doing so well. And by leaving him, she allowed the ship that was his life to stay afloat while her own little rowboat went straight down to the watery depths. [I]"If I must go, I will go alone,"[/I] she had told him. And it had hurt to do so. But she did what she had to do, no matter what it cost her.

Always.