The tumult of feelings Ridahne had inside her began to slowly erode away as her mind was occupied with other thoughts. Now wasn't the time for it. There would come a day when she got a chance to speak her mind over Khaltira-Sol's grave. No. Not Khaltira-Sol. Just Khaltira. She did not deserve the title of Sol in any of its meanings, and Ridahne would no longer give it to her. But that day would come, and she would be able to howl and scream in anguish over the position the woman had put Ridahne in. Over what it cost her. She would face the living Sols, including Khaltira's replacement. There would come a day when she would reunite with Hadian and Ajoran. She would face Ajoran's parents and explain why she had not  yet married their son. What she'd done. And what she still had yet to do.

But that day had not come yet. So she put those thoughts away for now.

Ridahne gave a ghost of a smile. The ones that were genuine were radiant, even when they were small and subtle and maybe a little dry. They were radiant because they were real, and they were true and candid. And they were even more so because they were rare. Her other smiles lacked warmth, either because they were fake, forced, or, more commonly, simply tainted by some other thoughts that did not warrant a smile. This was one of the latter. She was trying to be real, to be genuine. But in that moment genuine was difficult, so she did her best.  

"Ah, finally having me make good on that promise! Yes, I think we will start tonight. I will give  you a full lesson tonight, and you will learn the way I learned. But I'll start you with this, and you can ponder it while we eat: The art of swordplay and its related specialties is truly nothing less than art. To wield a blade is not to wield a weapon, a thing of destruction and of pain and of death only. It is itself a skill and a beautiful art, like a dance. A dance with high stakes, yes, but it is no less graceful. It is no less a song. Think on that. And then tonight when the moon is high we will train. I'll warn you now, I won't go easy on you. You will have bruises. You will get cut. You will be sore. But that's how you learn." Another wan smile, though this one was maybe a little warmer, a little more real now that thoughts of home were just a little bit further behind her. "I will teach you what I can of Azurian, though you will learn it better when we are there and you are immersed in it. I will try and teach you words, and by our words you will learn something of our culture, I think. But if you want to know the words for something, just ask." 

They made their way towards the farmhouse again, Ridahne padding along in almost perfect silence with her bare feet (Ridahne hated shoes and avoided them if she could help it). She also felt like doing some work or favor in return for the hospitality of the farm was in order, though as Darin spoke, Ridahne's inked face twisted into a thoughtful expression and softly she said, "But we are giving back. Yes, we are doing this quest and that is important. But we also give them hope. And without hope we are just animals toiling for survival. Trust me, I'd know." She laughed a little, very softly. "Do not feel like a burden to these people, even if we are shooed out of the kitchens and chased away from the woodpile. Your quest is what they've dedicated their lives to. To the Tree. To Astra. I think they are glad to give some food and supplies as payment to see Astra safe and whole." 

Nevertheless, she did make her way out back towards the water pump and waved away the man operating it with a curt but not impolite or unfriendly, "Go. I will pump the water now." She had a way of speaking sometimes that was not quite an order, but it was not quite a question either. Very businesslike. She adopted the same manner when treating Darin's injuries, and while it was brisk, blunt, and spoken with a soft determination, something about it was comfortable, friendly, and casual in a very 'Ridahne' kind of way.