Ah, bless Darin for plating her up some food. In large groups, the distribution of food was something that gave her, at the least, a bit of pause and more often, a bit of anxiety. They didn't have much where she came from. Azurei did not gain its wealth from furs, crops, or timber. As a nation, it relied on silver mines, their skill in carving precious stones, fishing, and trade-escorts, which were bands of mercenaries hired to protect or guide merchants or caravans through harsh terrain or unfriendly places. And they got what they needed one way or another, but if you were poor in Azurei, you were [I]poor.[/I] Ridahne had been one of those for most of her life. There were expectations at gatherings about how much food you could take for yourself so that all could have something. At home, she knew the rules of thumb. Here? She had absolutely no idea where to start. Instead of worrying about it, it was nice that Darin just did it for her. Ridahne didn't know if she did that because she knew the elf's background, or if she just did it because that was who she was. Either way, she was thankful.

Nobody paid much attention to Ridahne, not like they had before. She'd outed herself as THE traitor they'd heard about already, and she'd made enough of a display the night before, so she made it through without much more than a few glances or polite words here and there. She was alright with that. So as she ravenously ate what was on her plate and even indulged in a little wine, she listened to the conversation next to her. Someday she'd like to visit this little village outside of Lively. They would likely all stare at her like the mountainously tall, exotically foreign oddity she was, but that was to be expected of small town human folk this far from the border. 

It wasn't until Darin's words got a bit of backlash that Ridahne really perked up and listened with intensity. When the young man protested it wasn't fair, Ridahne actually barked a laugh. She only partially tried to cover it up out of politeness. But not fully. Her eyes were on him in an instant, and those two amber darts never left him as she studied the shifts of his weight, his hands. Ridahne had been trained to read certain types of body language. So when he got up from his seat, she did too in the exact same moment. 

Her training showed very clearly all of a sudden. She didn't leap up to her feet but rose slowly and with purpose; the chair didn't even squeak against the floor. She did not move, just stood up from her seat. She didn't feel threatened enough to need a particularly sharp display of fierceness, so she did not draw her knives, which she still wore in the blade harness which was as much a part of her as  her own hair. Her hands were still at her sides. Perfectly still. And the only movement she made was to incline her chin just slightly in silent challenge.

[I]Don't.[/I]

If she had flung out a knife and started shouting, not only would it have escalated the situation (she didn't want that), but it would not have been as effective a warning as her chillingly cold, hard, immovable demeanor. It was confidence, assuredness, and utter control all in one. It was a similar kind of dramatics that she'd displayed in the forest with the bandits, though put to a different purpose and in a different way. This was more subtle and somehow more polite. But no less intense. Presentation was everything, and more so if it could actually be backed up. She could. She would.

The man backed down, though Ridahne made a mental note to keep an eye on that one. She stood there still, in perfect dignity and grace until the young man finally made it back to his seat. And then, slowly and with all the grace of water poured from a pitcher, Ridahne sat back down. The expression on her face was was cool and somewhat impassive. For Ridahne, that was not a good look, though it hadn't dampened her mood, not really. The whole thing was merely a hitch, a little hiccup in the evening that she would remedy if need be. It didn't eat at her.

Ridahne resumed eating and drinking as if nothing had happened, but she leaned over and said softly so that only Darin would hear, "I think we should start your training earlier than moonrise. Forget about evening chores, or keep them very brief. I think they will understand." In part, Ridahne needed Darin in good condition to begin training, and if she was tired from chores, she'd have a little less energy to work with.  And another part of her pictured a scenario in which this bold young fellow decided to find a way to continue this conversation in private. Ridahne did not doubt that Darin could handle herself in a scuffle with a farm boy if it came to that. But he didn't need to have the satisfaction of starting one.