Ridahne nodded slowly, understanding. She was much the opposite, she had a lot of wandering blood growing up. She'd been groomed for fishing, as that was her family's occupation that was passed down for generations. Hadian fished, and he liked it. "Good honest work," he called it. But Ridahne always wanted more. She wanted to know what was beyond the sea, to know about the other parts of Astra and of forests and lush gardens. She wanted to be more. And oh, she got it alright. And then some... But still, she knew the feeling. Up until recent events, Ridahne was quite content with the way her life was. She traveled often, had some level of status and freedom and enough money to live comfortably, and she had Ajoran and her brother. Leaving that had been hard and honestly, it still was. And she knew with deep pain what it felt like to know that the home she loved would never be home again, not in the same way. It was different for Ridahne, but she understood all the same. "For whatever it's worth...I'm sorry." It was spoken not as a servant to a master, or anything else so formal. It was spoken casually, truthfully.

Ridahne smiled and stood. "No, Darin. I'm not here to kick your butt. I am here to teach you. You will get bruised in the process, but that is not my aim. At least...not yet..." she gave a wicked smile that was still light with jest as she opened up one of the bundles she brought. It contained two sticks, one more straight and the other obviously curved, almost like a sickle. It also contained a leather vambrace, which she picked up first. 

"Here, give me your injured arm, this will protect it. I don't want to injure it further. We will not even touch blades today. The Azurei way is very slow, and you must master each phase before moving on to the next. However, you are not an elf and you do not have fifty years to study the blade, so I will make adjustments as I see fit, but I will keep the heart of the training methods. Now, stand like this..." Ridahne dropped into a wide, loose stance with her knees slightly bent and feet a little bit apart. "You must be comfortable and able to move, and not easily knocked out of balance. While we train, practice moving your feet. Now, the first thing you will learn is body language. In order to know what your opponent will do in time to block it or use it against them, you have to know how to read their body. The easiest way to start learning this is simply to block my hands." Ridahne held her right hand out flat. "A blade is simply an extension of your arm, so you will begin by using your arms. I will try and hit you with my hands, and you must use yours to block them. For today, I will not move faster than you can handle--again, my aim is not to beat you, it is to teach you. Later, I will push you harder. After we're finished, we will practice a little with sticks to get you used to having something in your hands to swing around. Ready?"

Ridahne closed in and with her "bladed" right hand, she made a simple swing at Darin's upper arm at a slower speed that gave Darin plenty of time to react. The elf did this a few times, striking from different directions at different points, and eventually she upped her speed just a little, though it was still manageable. If Darin ever faltered or missed, and Ridahne's aim struck true, she would hit with just enough force to make the point, though not enough to hurt. If struck in the same place multiple times, it would eventually bruise, but one or two strikes wouldn't quite be enough for that. She'd spoken true when she said she was not out to beat Darin bloody. Ridahne's control was evident. Along the way, she would give pointers or encourage Darin when she was on the right track. Despite the elf's usually prickly demeanor, she was not a harsh teacher, not yet. There would come a time for harshness, but not until Darin grew in her skills to the point where it would actually teach her something and push her skills further rather than just give her welts. 

Ridahne's teacher had not been so merciful. She hadn't been cruel exactly, but she was relentless. Her teacher had worked her in the hot sun, or late on moonless nights to stumble in the darkness. Her teacher had thought directed pain would be the best punishment, incentive, and instructor. Ridahne frequently came back bruised all over, occasionally shallowly cut (when they did progress to swords), always exhausted, and often less hydrated than she should have been. Yet her teacher would be the first to give her cool water when they were finished, the first to treat her cuts, and would aggressively defend Ridahne's sleep time so her student could be rested for the next day. She hadn't been unkind, but those first few years were hard and Ridahne did not want to subject Darin to that kind of treatment.