Darin had been about to respond to Ridahne’s comments on the Sols when the door opened. Her mood suddenly lifted as she turned eagerly only to have her mood sour again as she saw that it wasn’t who she wanted to meet. She didn’t want to deal with any of the Sols right now, not even Hanasha-Sol. Luckily the woman seemed content to ignore her as she conversed with Ridahne. Darin wasn’t inclined to interrupt but was about to when the offer to basically make Ridahne a Sol came up. Darin wasn’t having that. Thankfully neither was her sister. The offer to become a Taja wasn’t one Darin liked either. This Hanasha-Sol seemed eager to have Ridahne close and Darin didn’t like it. She would admit that it was personal.

Darin watched the door after the stranger left the stable, “You belong to me just as I belong to you and you know how possessive I get.” She finally turned back to Ridahne, “Besides. If I am to be,” She said the next bit with a hint of distain, “Astra-Sol, then that makes you my Taja already, right?” Suddenly she wasn’t sure, “That’s what Tajas are right? Guardians for their Sols.” She switched to her native tongue, “What do you think Taja? Should we make Ridahne a Taja?”

She was running soft fingers over the feathers on her bird’s chest. Taja let out a shriek that caused Darin to grin. It seemed the hawk agreed. Of course, Taja was a vain bird that, honestly, could only be called an idiot. He had a good heart, but he simply didn’t understand things no matter how many times Darin explained it. He also had a habit of getting stuck in less than dignified position from which he needed rescuing. He thought he was one of the best things Astra had to offer and his own opinion everyone would be better off being more like him. Darin was inclined to agree with him, especially right after he clawed out an attacker’s eyes.

She shrugged her shoulder to send Taja into flight as she switched back to Common, “No matter.” She moved to sit down as she sighed, “I don’t understand why you had to be marked a traitor. I really don’t. I might not ever understand it. You did what was best for Azurei even if they don’t know that.” She held out a hand, “Please sit down. But it’s not just that that has me upset. If the way you had been treated was the only factor in play, I would probably be more willing to try to understand the politics in play.” The Seed-Bearer sounded almost distressed, “But she didn’t listen to The Tree, and I don’t understand it, and I can’t believe that you do. Did she not hear It? Did she choose not to listen to It. Both are symptoms of a larger problem, each one a different problem. I need her to be honest about why she didn’t listen. If she’s not I might make the wrong decisions and lead Astra to ruin.” Darin sighed in exhaustion. “The Tree has only ever been able to speak to the Children of Astra in whispers. It used to be that people knew to listen for and to those whispers. That has become less and less common as the years go on, and since the whispers weren’t being heard they started getting quieter and quieter.” She wanted to cry, “My anger isn’t just for you. It’s on behalf of The Tree as well. Both of you are seeking to defend her actions. You both may be right. You both have a right to your opinion, but I do too. And my opinion, right or wrong, is that someone who claims to speak for her people should know how to listen, and I do not think she does. I think she makes rash decisions or blind choices without thinking of [i]any[/i] of the consequences, good or bad. Then when the consequences aren’t as bad as they could be she thinks her actions, while not particularly wise, can’t have been all bad.” She suddenly stood, “You both said it, if you hadn’t been exiled you wouldn’t have been my Guardian, but neither one of you know that. The Tree could have still sent you. I might have a different companion. I could be dead from falling of a cliff. Still, “what could have beens” are not given to the Children of Astra to know. We only know the past and the now. She acts in the now as if she could know the future without even thinking of the pass.” Her arms came up around her chest, “If I’m being honest, if I am being fair, the truth is that even if you had managed to explain you motivations for you actions you would still be a criminal. You would still be in exile. Right may be right, but illegal is illegal and I am trying to respect that.” Now her face was in her hands, “But she sentenced you to [i]death[/i] without even listening to you, The Tree, or anyone else. Now two of the three most important people in my life are asking me to forgive her, but I can’t, and I can’t explain why I can’t, and I feel like a failure.” She asked a purely rhetorical question, “What kind of Seed-Bearer am I, what kind of Gardener will I be, what am I teaching The Seed, when I can’t even let go of a personal grudge?”