[@Aziraphale]

Jackal was blinded by the bright sorceries of the ship. The lighting, bright crafts of the vessel was a bit much to what he was used to, but he didn't bother in trying to understand it. Instead he walked over to the crates left to them. He had trouble reading English characters, but he managed to make out his name on one of the crates. Upon opening his crate, to his delight, he found his religious symbols and took them with the hand on his left wing carefully, so as to no break them by accident. He then looked around him to see his other, smaller teammates. He knew he had to be acquainted with all of them eventually, but for now curiosity and intrigue had given him the thought of seeking one of the girls that complimented him earlier. However he couldn't seem to find her. Walking further he would let out his forked tongue, which slithered and rattled out from his lips and licked the air. He didn't know everyone's scent well, as due to their brief encounters, but he could make out a trail of scent much farther then the other sources. He followed the scent, occasionally banging into walls and doorways to his size and not paying attention. Occasionally he would get onto all fours and move from side to side much like the motion of a monitor lizard. He only stopped to have his tongue lick the air.

Eventually, he reached what was called the engine room. Though the matter in which he got there was far more tedious then the normal route since he doesn't understand the ship's layout. Various noises filled the room to his annoyance, both from machinery of the ship and from tools farther in the room. As he entered, he would get on his two hands and feet, crawling like a lizard once more. He moved slowly and silently, like a predator stalking his prey, old habits die hard. Occasionally, his tail would hit a piece of metal or a claw struck the floor, that and his faintly glowing eyes could give away his presence.The heat from the loud engines distracting him. The firey sorcery attracted the beast to crawl over it, making some noise of tough claws over quality metal as he crawled on top a burning hot piece of magic. To most, the heat would burn skin off bone, but the Gorgas thrives in these temperatures, in fact it was a nice escape from the cold atmosphere of the ship. His yellow eyes fell upon the girl, as he ended up a bit above her and to the side. He was in good view of watching her work on her arm.

Witchcraft. The primitive dragon thought. 

As stories told by his elders when he was a hatchling, witches were not to be trifled with. They had supernatural and other wordly powers that are to be feared and ostracized. A cold chill ran down the otherwise intimidating reptile. That arm was certainly other-wordly. In fact it wasn't just her arm, but her legs too.
Jackal watched in silence as the witch finished her craft of the dark arts. In fear he thought how could she be an ally and should she be trusted. Perhaps her interest was a mere lure to turn the poor runt of a hellkite into lizard stew.