Tsura, excited by all the commotion, reared slightly and stamped, tossing his head in the sweet breeze. Ridahne was equally as uneasy, that is, until Ravi actually came. For one thing, when the elf came towards Darin, Mitaja did not impede him. Instead, she circled around him, rubbing her face into the back of his knees as if she had rejoined an old friend. That alone was enough to sway Ridahne; in the first years of her hunting training as a girl, the first lesson she was ever taught was to trust her cat.  They were better hunters, and their ancestors had the land before any elf ever did. They knew it and its seasons, its winds, its shiftings and groanings and blossomings. And they were good judges of character, too, and were said to have untold senses that none of the three races possessed. But more than that, Ridahne felt, like with Mark, that she knew what this man was about. Unlike Mark, he did not espouse sickly sweet but empty words in the hope of gaining something he wanted. No, this elf's words came from an outpouring of joy and he did not care who heard them. The warrior sheathed her blade and stilled Tsura with a few whispered words, then dismounted and walked to Darin's side. 

The elf was no longer bristling with wrath and fury but seemed more at ease. After all, she had guessed that these were good people, though putting a knife to her charge's throat was a serious misstep. She chalked it up to no more than that, though, and no longer held them to blame. And she had no doubts about Ravi. She guessed that he was Eluri--He had to be. He was very obviously not Azurei and the Orosi did not receive visions unless they had mixed parentage. And as he spoke of his vision Ridahne's lips twitched in an only mostly concealed smile when he mentioned Darin had punched a guard in the face. Her little Darin? Punching a man in the face? Ridahne couldn't have been more proud. At some point, she wanted to speak to Ravi of her own vision, as she had longed for the wisdom of an Eluri in the matter but had never had the time to pursue it. For now, she merely bowed slightly. She had no will to argue with being left behind. It was only right, and she knew it.

"Go, Ri'atal. There's nothing to fear from him, if you want my opinion on such matters. I will wait for you." Ridahne spoke a few words in Azurei to Mitaja, instructing her to follow Darin wherever she went, then went and took Tsura's reins. 

Ridahne felt like a black stain on this sacred land, and if she was honest, she was eager to get to the farmhouse and be away from so many eyes. Somewhere to hide her own shame. And then, as if fate had one last cruel trick to play on her, Tax stepped up, and she saw he had the dark skin, golden eyes, and inked face of an Azurei. The two looked on each other in silence for a moment, as was the custom. She noted his Ojih was short with only a few basic marks, and she guessed that he had decided to become one of these acolytes of the Tree at a young age. If his resembled a delicately twisting garden vine, then Ridahne's was a patch of briars, tangled, thick, and overlapping. She took a deep breath. It was the first time she had seen one of her own people since she'd left Azurei four months ago. Since she'd...

"Come. This way." He began to lead her towards the farmhouse, and during the trip, they were silent. People came to take Tsura and tend to him, and Ridahne was set in a chair and offered a mug of a pale yellow variety of mead with a delicate flavor. It was not a strong mead and was low in alcohol content, the sort of drink one has daily after a long toil in the fields to refresh the body and ease the heart. She sipped it slowly; it was very very good.

Finally, after an excruciating silence, Ridahne broke it. "Stop staring at me and let's just get right to the point," she growled. "You've heard news of recent events from home, I see." 
Her gruffness didn't bother him; they were cut from the same cloth, though they had lived different lives. Tax released a breath and sat back in his own chair. "It was you, then?"
Ridahne closed her eyes and took a long slow breath. "Yes." 
"And now you're the guardian of the Seed Bearer," he said with no small measure of amazement--something Ridahne mirrored in her own thoughts too.
"Fate likes irony, it seems."
Tax was clearly struggling to find words or to sort through his feelings on the matter. There was so much to it, he knew. More than could simply be guessed. "I'm going to assume by your association with the Seed Bearer that you aren't the crazed madwoman the rumors make you out to be." 

Ridahne laughed. It was a pained laugh, a derisive laugh, a bitter laugh. She wasn't surprised there were stories about her, but somehow knowing it felt like a knife to the heart. She couldn't hold back the single tear that welled up in her eyes and dripped down her inked cheek. "The truth is never so simple, Tax Anaiadi. The truth is no less ugly, no less gruesome, no less painful, but it is never so simple. Those stories will never tell you why. Nor will they tell you all that I sacrificed in the name of justice. There is nothing left for me. Anyone who believes that I brought that on myself out of foolish madness is an even greater fool than I." 
"Justice?" He asked. This intrigued him greatly. Being somewhat removed from Azurei for many years, he could look at the situation with a cooler head, and for this Ridahne was grateful. "What happened to you, Eija'alihn, that brought you on this path?"
Ridahne looked hard at him, searching his comparatively unmarked face. "Many ask for truth but do not want it when it's given to them. It's a bitter medicine they no longer want to taste. Do you want it, Anaiadi?"
He nodded gravely. "Yes. I do." 
Ridahne sighed, taking a sip of the cool mead before proceeding. "Khaltira-Sol, beloved and honored and wise, was a corrupt, heartless bitch who cared nothing for the lives of her people. She used me as her tool. She trained me to seek justice and to carry it out to its bitter end but somehow thought that didn't apply to her. I am a tool. And I served my purpose." Her voice was low and hard, like a cold mount of unmovable stone.

Tax's dark cheeks flushed red and he looked anywhere but at those fiery eyes. Each breath was measured and controlled in an effort to steady himself. "Torzinei!" he breathed, as though she had just said the most scandalous curse in all of Astra. In Azurei culture, she very nearly had. 
Ridahne's palm slammed down the table, rattling her mug, and she rose from her seat. "You asked for the truth! Do not scorn me for giving it! I am tired of being pressed for truth and bound to some shred of honor and yet kicked for doing only what I am asked! Have I not suffered enough!? I will take it no more!" More tears glittered in her eyes but they were like drops of burning sun, aflame with anger and passion.

Tax held up his hand. "Peace, Fireheart," he said softly. "I did ask. You delivered. It is simply a lot to consider. I think..." he said slowly, mastering himself. "I think I understand, at least a little. And if I understand rightly, I pity you and the road fate has put you on."
"I didn't ask for your pity," she snarled, though the volume of her voice did drop and she settled stiffly back into her chair.
At this, Tax smiled bittersweetly. "No, Torzinei. One such as you wouldn't. But still I give it to you. I...assume you will find your way eventually back home? In your travels?" When Ridahne nodded he sighed. "That won't be easy. I doubt the people of home will be so understanding as I. They lack some perspective on the situation as a whole. You are committed to this task?"
"With all that I am." 
Tax nodded, satisfied. "Good. Perhaps...perhaps you were chosen for this task because  you are broken, Ridahne Torzinei. You who have lost everything. You who have paid the highest price for the least glamorous side of justice and truth. There is nothing now that can be held against you, nothing that can sway you from your duty. You have been disgraced, and this gives you all the more motivation to not fail in your task. Do Azurei proud, Child of the Night Sky. [I]Ni talihn un'derras.[/I]"

[I]Go forth with blessing.[/I]

The words hit Ridahne to her core, and tears unbidden came again to her eyes. But she mastered herself, and a less hostile silence fell upon them. In true Azurei fashion, once the yelling was out of the way, amicable silence came easier. When Darin eventually met up with her, Ridahne had some faint evidence of tears but was now speaking with Tax in their native language, chatting casually of home and of the spaces beyond.