Ridahne laughed first, mostly because she wasn't sure exactly what to say. "Yes, I am allowed to tell you. We don't talk about it often to strangers, but that's usually only because they ask "what's them there tats for eh? Don't that hurtcha?"" Ridahne did her best impression of a very very backcountry human man in a one-horse town, and for being a female with a strong Azurei accent, she did it a little too well. She laughed again, just a little. "They ask because we're some anomaly, some exotic thing on display, not because they really want to know. That, and because if you tell them that they mean things, things about you, they inevitably ask what they mean. And it's...well it's weird. To us, it's very public. But it's also very intimate? And so if someone can't read it, then it really isn't for them. It's different when you know the person--there was a merchant who was a regular customer of mine back when I was a Dust Sea guide. He did ask eventually, but we had a relationship so I didn't mind so much, and I knew it came from a place of genuine interest. The same goes for you." 

Ridahne was silent for a while, obviously thinking something over, but the silence stretched on until it seemed like she might not actually say anything more. She did and said, "Sorry, I just realized I...have never had to explain this to someone before. In Azurei it's something you just...know by a certain age. It's as much a part of our culture as the color blue." She sighed. "Alright, let me see...I mean for starters it's not exactly--well it is--but it's not really a religion like you think when you hear that word. I called it that I guess, but we don't worship a deity. No sacrifices, or duties in service of, or prayers or anything like that. The only way I suppose you could really consider it a religion is that it pertains to what happens to us after death, and that it is sacred. So sacred, that when I was sentenced to death and found guilty of treason, before they took me away or did anything else, a servant boy came and brought me a tattoo kit. The finest bone needles, the richest ink, a small stool to set everything on, and he knelt and held the mirror for me the whole time. I was offered a master tattooer, but I declined. No other hand but mine would do it. Not for this one. The room was silent and still. Silent, except for my own choked sobs," she admitted. Ridahne gave a bitter, sad smile. "But I, a murderer and traitor, was shown the utmost respect as I carried out the deed. [I]That[/I] is how important it is to us." 

Ridahne took a breath, partly to think of what to say next and partly to clear her head of the memories of that day. She didn't need them right now. "You are not required to take an Ojih. It's rare that anyone doesn't, it's something every kid looks forward to, really. But you don't have to. But when you do, there's a huge ceremony. Your community gathers around and confirms that you are old enough and mature enough to take this solemn oath, and in front of everyone you swear to keep it current for your lifetime and to keep it true. A master tattooer lays you down and people surround you with almond blossoms and palm leaves and strings of tiny shells, and they give you your first mark. And you enter adulthood. From then on, you do some training with a tattooer so that you are at least capable of maintaining your own if you should ever have need, though some people have all their marks done by a master tattooer. Hadian and I gave each other many over the years, but most of mine are done by my hand.

The ojih serves two purposes. First and foremost, it keeps you honest. When someone comes to you, and you do not know them, you can gain some information just by reading their Ojih. Whether or not they are married, if they have or have had some kind of important title like Taja, Sol, or even Captain, whether or not they have killed someone, if they have earned the reputation of a liar, or if they show certain characteristics like bravery, obstinance, or humility. Marks are added to or partially covered over (in a way that shows both what the person was and what they have now become), but never hidden, covered completely, or modified in such a way that the original meaning is untrue or unclear. It's why the Azurei tend to keep to themselves generally, and why you don't often see them abroad--it's very strange and unsettling to us to meet someone and know nothing about them. How do we know if someone is a cheat or is honest? How do we know if they are a dangerous person, or who they might be? 

The second purpose is that when we die..." She had to think on this some more. "When we die, there is a deity. In some regions he is referred to as male, in some she is referred to as female. Neither is incorrect, it is understood that the being does not have gender but we pick one for ease of speaking. We call him the Keeper and he guards the passage between our world and the world of spirits. When I die, he will search my ojih and from it, determine where I am to go in the Halls of the Spirits. Some places, you see, are better than others. This is why we must put every mark on our ojih, no matter how ugly, no matter how devastating. Because someday it will matter, and that ugly thing is part of us. Even if we move on and become something new, someone better, that ugliness is still a part of our story and cannot be ignored. This," she pointed to her traitorous mark, "Is as much a part of me as any good mark I have, and though it alone does not define me, the whole picture does. The whole picture is me, and my history. We have a saying, and it is a ritual spoken each time a mark is added. "What's done is done".  

You should know, it is simply not done to harm someone else's ojih, or really their face for that matter. The worst I have ever seen someone do is slap or punch a face, but that is a serious thing. Because if it is seriously altered to the point that it cannot be read, intentionally or otherwise, the ojih can no longer reflect its owner, and what is the Keeper to do with them? He cannot send them back to the physical world, and he cannot send them on to the Halls of Spirits, for what if he chooses incorrectly where to send them? So they are cast out of both worlds, stuck somewhere in between. You, I believe, call them ghosts." Ridahne turned and looked sharply, sternly at Darin. "You must swear to me, Darin, that you will never cut an ojih. Never scratch, tear, mar, burn, or destroy in any way. For it is the most deplorable of sins. Our faces are sacred, Darin. This is why it's not a good idea to touch the face of someone you do now know very well. It is a very, very intimate gesture. Not that I think you would do this, but I'm obliged to inform you anyway: to go around pinching cheeks in Azurei is like running around and putting hands on other women's breasts, except not in a sexual kind of way. It's just very...invasive."

Ridahne took a huge breath in and out. "Whew. I think I got the gist of it. Did I do well?"