Sikeax

Children, unnaturally harsh in a lot of ways, always remain immune to the poison they spit until a certain age of understanding and maturity either comes to bitch slap them in the face at perfect timing, such as Sikeax had received, or can be a sweet, gentle rhythm that is simple to dance to that comes with age. The ones at the border, small, frail, little things mimic deer with their old legs, and oddly shaped body. All but one are dark shaded, and as she carried herself closer to them, a kinder member of the Dragon's Throat's meet and greet squad, their words lost any pity she would of kindly offered them. Their hues reflected their heart.
Upon further inspection, she finds one is winged. They each reek a pungent odor of Aurora Basin, but she will not steep to the level they had been at when she came to their borders at their age. Doing so would give her family, clan, whatever you wished to call the ones she resided in the desert with, a bad look as they had done her. Good was in each bad place, it was merely the task of finding it that made others lose interest, and deem the whole thing hopeless as a broken winged bird flying.
Pushing away her annoyance, the feeling of being insulted because she would never act such a way when it came to another's home, brought forth by a slow trot to show that, yes, she has noticed them, and is interested, but it is not her highest priority when the heat was so high in the day. They should of had brains, and waited, having lounged around in the ocean, patiently waiting for the cooler part of the day when the Sun was not at the highest point.
Clearing her throat once she stands at her side of the border, desperate but clearly confused in the act of trying to hide that she is a shy thing so that her home is not further more laughed upon, a distance of a few yards is kept between her and them. A hurt child was her last death wish on an ever-growing list.
"It is rude to speak of someone's home in such a way, in that, may I politely remind all of you, that you are the strangers standing on my doorstep."
An another member had the ability, and self control, to be harsher to the youth. Her tone was light, only meaning to prove a point without being entitled as rude. "Yet, as my guests, I find that it's better to kind. I am Sikeax, a healer for the Dragon's Throat. What can I do for the three of you?"
Blue eyes soften lightly, melting a harsh look out of them by the heat of the Sun. She had once been one of them, and knew full well as of they could be. Their state was easily bendable, one that, if she would find the will to step into the light of kindness, could be shown a better light.

OOC: Hope you don't mind her. She may not be the best, but she's a bit nicer than some.
Also, Bunnie, it's up to you if it's before or after that Rikyn met Sikeax at the island.

"If you could hear me then, can you hear me now?"

In winter, some voices are like coats - Mosteghanemi