Sikeax

Uneasiness turns to annoyance, any sort of caring feelings that had risen off the way of the colts slapped off her face rather harshly at the face the winged female was making towards her. Intentions had been to show that being polite in another's home was the right thing to do when you stand at the border, only acting upon it temporarily to show kinds to their young minds. Some kids are born to be rude, selfish creatures, as it seems.
More come along, this time from her side of the border to offer aid in taking control of how children could act. Did she act this way as a child? She hoped not, sighing through her nostrils with a forward heave of her chest, puffing it out with a semi-irritated expression driven upon her by Cera. Playfulness rose out of him.
Surprise does not rise from her as her pair of orbs watch with slight attention on the children admiring Ilaria. The small animal's ways were hard not enjoy, even bringing out the usual smile she seemed to gain when the winged boy and his red companion appeared.
Cera carries on in a story, speaking about fires she is too young to know about. It's about dragons, trees, and sap, from what he speaks of. Though she is aware he is a friend, one she keeps dear in her heart, but his words blur out, coming in in slow waves, lost with some sort of boredom. A question slaps her again, bringing her forth.
Extending her mouth so that it opened, ready to answer, Sacre's voice arrives to the party rather late, calling himself a king. They played games, and she was becoming the rude, overly serious one standing around with the kids. Her sense of childish antics was leaving her, and there was a slim chance of regaining it.
The girl, whose name is running chances of being fiction as she listens to Rikyn bounce off a different name what she knew him as, asks why the 'Lazy King of Spies' was not out doing his tasks. Retrieving an idea of friendly jokes, meaning to tease Sacre about him standing around with the commoners when he had such a lavish title, she dips her head down to their level, coming close enough that her horn reflects a low light off their features.
"He's a lazy one sometimes." Giggling with a tone that isn't what she expects, feeling that she needs to add some sort of effect to his title. "That's in the day, though. Our dragons go out and spy in the heat of the day, but when they return, he lurks in the shadows." It was greatly inflated with fiction, and while she doubted Sacre had an ego, it was possible to add some to it. Having finished, she pulls her head away.
Rain questions come along, making sense seeing as the dry season could make one wonder if it ever did. "As for the rain, it does in Birdsong almost constantly." Well, not constantly, but a lot.
While the children and her boys pulled themselves into excitement, hoofbeats drug her mind away from them, frowning at the condition of a gray yearling that joined them. No words fall from his lips, his image overall weak. Ears fall to the side in worry. One touch would appear to make him crumble, and as she stares with worry, a motion of a horn attempts to invite him over, to stand with her and embrace their fun.
"If you could hear me then, can you hear me now?"

In winter, some voices are like coats - Mosteghanemi