Hot, burning, a roaring flame baring down upon her spine and the lightly coloured skin spread tightly beneath the honey coloured shades of hair that became her coat. The Dragon's Throat had a reason for it's name. That reason was one that the land loved to show off and make sure that all of the members would be used to it after some time, and knew that it wasn't about to change anytime soon.
Eager to escape, she headed north, the only direction that you were able to go, and sent herself for the trees. The Deep Forest gave her no gifts when she entered the Threshold lacking herbs, empty-handed and disappointed with her findings. A late Tallsun storm would be nice about this time when only fluffy, white clouds dotted hazy blue skies that we're desperate in the need of a washing.
Various calls cascade into her pricked ears, dancing about the top of her head in an alert fashion to any changing sounds of bird cries and calls. Occasionally, you could catch the sounds of others, the low tone of their voices, noisy marching as they tore through the undergrowth in search of the opening that would give them the gateway to the rest of Helovia. Having been birthed to the land, she felt no ties to this place. She'd never seen the outside, what went on there, all the things that would pay her no more mind than what she was given here.
Today, she'd finally gotten close to the edge, where the trees ended and the world opened up. The light was brighter in that direction, but when a cry got to her ears, as a prey creature, she turned and made her leave quickly. There would be no absence of herself now.
Paths had been dragged through the undergrowth, one's frequently traveled by those already homed in the land. Newcomers seemed to have a difficult time of finding them, unsure of where they led and most likely worried and careful of where they went when it came to a new place. Uneven growth, snapped branches and brambles clearly pulled from their before location could tell you when and where a newcomer had gone. For those with longer hair, ones with sharp eyes may find strands of hair attached to bushes.
Torn earth brought her attention towards it, curious when a voice rose out the direction the path had gone. Intent on ensuring a newcomer's entrance to the land is one gone well, her strides lengthened as much as she could make them, her long legs eating the ground with short moves.
The one who has already beat her there is familiar, sadly, she cannot remember the name that the male bares. He seems odd in what he does, but he is nothing of the fashion of a large male she had met here when she was younger.
Their guest is tall, dark, and makes her unsure of if he falls to the title of handsome. She watches with curious eyes, wandering of who he is and admiring his height over her.
"I would be Sikeax, a healer of the Dragon's Throat. Has your journey been well to you, and if not, may my companions and I be assistance to you?"
Her voice is low, her distance from them is more than the smaller stud, but not far enough that she cannot hear them, and that her voice would not be drowned out. Weary, slightly nervous, her tail flicks against her hind legs. Sunburns give a shout and complain as she changes the expression of her faintly illuminated facial features as to match her discomfort.

OOC: Well, I haven't really seen you much, Deady, so if you're new to Helovia, welcome! If you have any questions, or need any help, feel free to ask me or any of our friendly admins.

Altogether, they seem to hold no ill with one another. She listens with close mind to each of their names, recalling them over in her head a few times while they speak associating the sounds with each body. Damaris is the most cheerful of them all, gaining a smile from Sikeax that spreads slow and small in size. She feels eyes on herself while her own are on the pup, enjoying the youthfulness of a child.
Instinctively, she flicks her ears towards Rostislav and steps closer. Taking her time and making sure as not to become too close to them, she comes in close enough to hear the smaller draft offer a home. Here, they know nothing of this male, and they are already offering homes when they have no idea of who he is other than his name. She can't find herself making the offer so quick, but it would be best not to seem that she is not interested in hospitality.
"I can offer you a home as well, but first, is there anything you'd like to know, whether it be about us, the land, anything you'd like to know? We'd very much like to know about you as well, if you'd like to say a bit."
This go around, her ears are put straight to him. She wants to know more, to see who Vrazda really was. Yes, he was a man who stood tall and seemed friendly. As far as her eyes were letting see, he was a good man, the kind worth taking home to the family to let become family, but not in the way you would think.
As of the moment, Vrazda was a newcomer who would need advice, assistance, all that could be added to a long, ever-growing list of things that would be needing.
A shimmer of a light strikes her left eye for short seconds, resulting in a quick jerk of her head backwards. It fires a beam to the ground, and she watches as the black stud follows it with his eyes. He's so locked to it that a low laugh escapes her.
The light is reflected from his ear apparently, catching her attention. It's nothing she's seen in the past, something new. "What's that? I mean," Rude is the word that comes to mind when she thinks of how she had just spoken to him. "what's that on your ear? Excuse me, if I sounded rude." This time, her skull is tucked into her neck, conversing between a mass of thoughts in her brain. A great many of things could of been said other than that, but loose hopes that her apology went far enough not to give a bad impression kept her lips sewed together.

@[Vrazda]

Quiet, ever so patient in how she listens to the both of them speak. Once more, she has become the odd one in their trio. Both are soldiers, and there are no healers to stand with her in an art that can be overlooked in it's importance. Soldiers carried a variety, yet for a small team of healers spread about the land, there were only the killers who grabbed bottles of poisons, deadly concoctions, and death spit, and then the medics, armed with sharp eyes, and steady movements to assure those wounded would make it to see other days. They both even come from trees, while she grew as a rebellious winter flower in the cold that turned sides completely to become a desert rose.
Her turn rises up, and caught up in how Rostislav has talked about the Hidden Falls, a place unknown to her that sparked interest as of the going-ons of the Windtossed Foothills, she is caught off guard. She needs something fast.
"I know a few soldiers who know their talent well, who could be of use." Who would those be? Hector? Surely, the giant wouldn't pay mind to how she'd drug someone home for him to spar with. It seemed an odd plan, almost as if she brought a gift.
One other comes to her mind, she can't remember his name, but knows that he was of a soldier's rank. There would easily be ones to dig out of their ranks so that Vrazda could work the knots out of his work. She can't help, but feel a sadness to her when it comes to how he learned it. Pity flickers in, and out, but goes out fast. From the sights her dull eyes had seen, he looked well, and unbothered. It would be rude of her to bring it up more.
"The Dragon's Throat is a desert, but there is a large oasis in the center, and a lot of natural defenses from the sea, and the canyons along the land bridge. It might be hot, and miserable in Tallsun, but for the rest of the year, the weather is paradise, food is abundant, and the only issues are monsoons during Birdsong."
It doesn't seem so amazing, sparkling in pictures like a vacation in the Caribbean would be, but in person, it was a lovely place. Sunburns had dotted her skin, but they were unseen for the most part. There even seemed to be more to offer there, with individuals receiving more attention.

@[Vrazda]