Ridahne could hear the clink of plates and bowls and mugs down below her, along with a soft din of voices. They really were excited, all of them. Ridahne was just glad she wasn't the fixture of all their attention--Darin had that honor. And that burden. She couldn't imagine that they would let her alone tonight, and Ridahne pitied her for that. She guessed they both needed time to think and to ponder. Time to consider their own conversations with Ravi, time to think about what came next. And Ridahne had visions to think of. Her last one had been so clear, so abruptly obvious about what it meant and what she needed to do and this one was so...vague. The first part was clear enough at least. She held on to the image of his hand in hers, the feel of its leathery warmth and the grit of sand between their fingers. Peace. Joy. But inevitably her mind was thrown back to the other part of her vision. 

The contrast had been sharp. One moment she was happy and blissful and the next she was...she didn't know what else to call it besides broken, at least physically. She tried hard to think back to the other sensations, other thoughts. It hurt to breathe and her voice, when it came, was raspy and strained. She did not feel the pull of the earth upon her, nor weight on her feet. It felt like she'd been floating. And like something had been accomplished. Yes, like some great struggle was now finished. Finished, and she could let go. Of what? Let go of...

Ridahne sat up and gave a small gasp, looking around as though there was anyone to see her up there on the roof. There wasn't. Ridahne wasn't certain, but she had a feeling that she'd just seen two possible futures. One was her long distant future of peace and happiness. The other, her death. Untimely. Painful. Neither future was certain, but she disliked the idea of even knowing her own death, even in part, before the events played out. To know like she had in the prison cells of Azurei was one thing--the evidence was plain before her and events were already set in motion. For this, she had no context, and was glad she wasn't given more. She shivered. She didn't want to think about that now. For now, she should focus on getting ready for the feast. She needed to look halfway presentable and do her people some pride, at least. 

Ridahne slid down the roof and down to the ground, where she found a young human woman and asked after bathing supplies. The woman gladly showed her to a place she could wash and left her to it. Ridahne cleaned up, braided the front of her now combed and washed hair back into a kind of half-ponytail, though a knot was more fitting than ponytail for what it was. The two locks of hair wrapped in blue cloth and tipped with bone beads were prominently in front of her pointed and pierced ears, the silver plates lining the helix polished bright. She put on her traditional garb--a halter-neck half shirt of sorts fringed with small bone beads and woven of tight, sturdy linen. Her knife harness was obvious and she wore the blades in it out of habit, though she left her sword with her saddlebag. She'd be more comfortable with the harness than without it and hoped no one would take offense to her wearing it so openly. She also wore her uri--the sarong-like garment made of a thin, flowing fabric dyed indigo blue that hung about her knees. Though it was sufficiently secure on its own, she also bound it at the waist with a wide band of rust colored silk, fastened with a silver pin in the stylized shape of a seahorse with its head reared. She did not wear shoes. This was her formal attire, good enough for the banquets in the house of the Sols, and good enough for here. 

Ridahne emerged as if from the woodwork to find Darin, placing herself gracefully beside her just as the feast was about to begin. Her movements were controlled, elegant, and smooth. Composed. This was the only defense she had against her own discomfort. Ridahne grew up poor and was unused to the idea of banquets and feasts. Though she'd been exposed to them plenty as an Eija, she never could quite figure out how to be at ease at one. How much food was she allowed to take? Was it rude to not try everything? Was she supposed to let someone else eat first before she could start? She struggled with those thoughts even in her own country. Here, she felt lost. Everyone teased her for it back home, mostly in good fun. She found them overwhelming and left her unsure of how to behave, so she defaulted to stone-cold composure. She realized for a moment that Darin was probably thinking the same things she was, and that composure cracked a little to reveal a soft, barely concealed smile. She leaned down close to the human's ear. 

"Is this as overwhelming for you as it is for me? I feel like a pig brought from the mud and set in a chair at table..." She was not ungrateful, not in the least. Just nervous.