Zarayne
She had no idea what a sot was, but from the context she understood the implication. This was still a foreign place to the one she was used to, where her well-being and safety would never have been in doubt. Wise Ones were outside of conflict in the Three-fold Land, and women were protected in Shienar. Neither of these rules seemed to apply in this place. It didn't make Zarayne scared nor even unduly concerned, but this was hardly the idyllic utopia some people thought it should be.
"I shall watch out for sots," she declared. The novice didn't understand the Gaidin's returned grin.
The Ribbon in the Air was a horizontal slash at the most basic level. Even to the unskilled Aielwoman, that move was easy enough to manage. But then Dax added a flourish to the end, the blade moving up or down into a different position. "To keep your foes guessing," the Tairen stated. There was also a further rule: the attack could not be above chest height. The attack was meant to be a bodily blow, and the neck and head were too small a target for this form. Zarayne practiced the form a number of times, alternating with upward or downward strokes, swinging the weapon both leftwards and rightwards. The bundle of lathes seemed less like a stick and more like a true weapon as she got into the hang of it.
Next up was The Swallow Takes Flight. In lieu of learning basic blocks, this form would ensure her safety if she had need to defend herself. The slashes she made with the blade were much shorter and punctuated with a thrust at the end. It either forced her opponent back or skewered them in the chest or abdomen. Zarayne seemed more at ease with this form than the previous one. In part it mind her think about some of the other Aiel she'd seen in the Training Yards, dancing with spears instead of swords. She could envision the weapon in her hand as a spear, with herself dancing in the cadin'sor of the Far Dareis Mai. It was a childhood dream of hers.
Zarayen raised the weapon up in a mid guard as the Tairen spoke again. Private practice with Dax was a markedly better option than embarrassing herself in the Training Yards. "Of course, thank you," she said with a smile. "I'll train whenever I can. Every three days at worse."
They then danced. It was clear that Dax was not moving with his full speed or using all of his strength, but Zarayne needed both. He pulled his blows when wood connected with her pale flesh. For her part, Dax seemed not too hurt when her practice blade struck against him. The disparity in their muscle mass likely had a huge influence on that.
After what felt like an hour, Dax called the duel to a stop. Zarayne breathed heavily, her grip on the weapon's hilt slick. Sweat rolled down her skin where her dress wasn't sticking to her. It was like being in an unpleasant version of a sweat tent.
"Did I do alright?" she asked between pants. Usually she would wait for feedback from her instructors, but for once she wanted instant gratification in the form of Dax's praise. Assuming I deserve it.