Darin desperately tried to listen, to hear what Ridahne was saying, rather than just let the words wash over her. Darin just wasn’t sure she understood what Ridahne was saying. Did the Elf think that she didn’t want to be here for the ceremony? That’s what it sounded like. Darin supposed that she couldn’t blame the Azurei for thinking that. She wasn’t sure she understood the bit about vulnerability either. It almost sounded like Ridahne wanted Darin to come crying to her every time she had a crisis of faith. That couldn’t be right, could it? Darin wanted to dart out of the room as she thought this though, but that wasn’t what Ridahne wanted. AS darin thought about she wanted to say she desperately tried to remember that it wasn’t about her, that she couldn’t make excuses, that she needed to be what Ridahne needed her to be. But what was that exactly.

Darin cursed how quiet she sounded, “I was worried that, that, that I would mess it up.” She couldn’t look at RIdahne, “That I would mark somewhere wrong, or, or I would break the needle or drop it or, or something.” She clenched her knees tighter, “But I wanted to be here. I guess I gave up that honor.” She quickly hurried on as her voice got a little bit louder, “Not that I blame you. It’s your choice.” Her volume dropped again, “I guess I should have told you my fears.” Her hands moved from her legs to clutch her skull and hair, “I just don’t understand what you mean when you say I don’t give in return.” Her voice broke, “I thought I was. I don’t understand. I thought I was a decent partner.” She didn’t want to cry, “But I guess I don’t know what it means to be a friend.”

Darin was trying, at least she thought she was trying. She guessed she wasn’t as being giving as much as she thought. She had never had a friend before. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Milla and Thomas were her friends, kind of. They didn’t hate her. Did animals count? Somehow Darin didn’t think so. She also didn’t think that she could be friends with Ridahne the same way she was friends with Thomas and Milla. They didn’t “bare souls” to each other. It was more like Thomas convincing Rolland to let her borrow Heath in exchange for apple pie and rescuing abused dogs together. For as long as Darin could remember, even before her father left, Darin didn’t show vulnerability. She had also dealt with her emotions herself. It made her less of a bother. It made her less of a target. What did Ridahne mean?

She was still struggling not to cry, “I don’t.” She paused to consider her words, this wasn’t about her, “What do you need from me? How do I make this right? Talk to me like I’ve.” She cut that off too, it wasn’t about her, “Please. How do I make this right? What do you mean?”

Once again Darin was struck by the difference in the lives, they had led. Darin wasn’t a warrior, but she had a home to go to if she needed to. Ridahne had no real home to return to, but she could survive on the road by herself. Darin could farm. Ridahne could read and write and use a quill with ease. Ridahne had a brother, and a man who loved her. She had probably even had friends and partners before she did what needed to be done. She had had people to confide in. For Darien it had just been, well it had just been her. There was Thomas and Milla, sure, but there was only so much they could do for the village outcast without drawing the ire of the village elders on themselves. Darin had been trying to follow the model of friendship she had seen others have, but clearly, she was failing. She wanted to do better, but it seemed like Ridahne was going to be a whole lot simpler when saying what she wanted. If the warrior said it Darin would try to do it.