Jazelle’s brows rose fractionally at Priscilla’s reaction, but followed her nonetheless with her armful of fabric, dreading the thought of having to carry the garments all the way back to her room if the trek there would be anything like the walk from the one from her temporary quarters to the dining hall.
	“[i]What?[/i]” Jazelle exclaimed when Priscilla opened the door to reveal a room in place of the hallway. “You couldn’t have done that [i]earlier[/i]?” She exhaled heavily as her brows fell irritably and her lips pursed slightly.
	“Yeah, okay,” she grumbled to Priscilla’s explanation, most of it going over her head. The last thing she needed was to add ‘dimension manipulation’ to her list of concerns at the moment.
	She followed Priscilla inside with a sigh, and kicked the door closed.
	The last twenty-four hours had gone from strange, to stranger, to downright weird, but not entirely in a bad way. And she had the feeling that that was not about to change any time soon.

[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/tAebdD1.png?1[/img][/center]

	With a poor night’s sleep, a full stomach, and her few things shoved into a rather crude-looking backpack she had slung over a shoulder, Jazelle groggily followed Priscilla to the roof. When the door opened, she blinked in the gloomy morning sunlight, rays fighting to stream through a layer of fog that had risen overnight. A slight chill in the air made Jazelle shiver despite her hoodie. She slipped her hands into the muff to keep them warm, the solid form of her butterfly knife ever in its rightful place.
	“Whoever decided mornings were a good idea,” she began through a yawn, “needs to… be…” Her words trailed off as the two stopped on the rooftop and her eyes fully adjusted to the change in light.
	The sight of Sunder sitting in a surprisingly familiar-shaped chair, and the guest beside him took her attention’s back-burner the moment she spotted the wyvern sitting on the rooftop. Jazelle’s mouth hung open, her eyes wide, gawking at the creature she had only ever read about in fairy tales or seen as a CGI monster in films.
	“Holy…” she drew out the word, and took a slight, curiously cautious step toward the wyvern. Its coppery scales glittered slightly in the dim light as its chest rose and fell with its breath, that movement the only thing setting it apart from a statue.
	The woman’s voice snapped Jazelle back to her surroundings. She blinked at the scarred woman, who looked almost as interesting as the wyvern. She took in her appearance with nearly as much interest as she had the two-legged dragon as Sunder answered the woman’s question. Her gaze settled on the scars marring the woman’s face, wondering what—or who—had caused them. She cast a wary glance to the wyvern, considering it as a potential cause.
	She looked toward Priscilla as the girl left. Though she had known her only for a short time, and she was not a friend, Priscilla was, at least, closer to her age, and a more familiar, friendly face.
	Not wanting to show her discomfort, Jazelle returned the woman’s stare with one that asked, “What?” and did her best to relax her shoulders. When the woman introduced herself, Jazelle only just managed to suppress her amusement at how well the woman’s name fit her mount. At his name, she glanced to Sunder for the first time since arriving on the roof, then snorted at her request to not provoke the wyvern.
	“Yeah, no problem.”
	Jazelle watched warily as Wyrm skillfully mounted the wyvern, hesitating to get closer.
	Sunder gained her attention, and she shifted her weight from one foot to the other at his gesture to join Wyrm.
	“Seriously?” She gave an exasperated roll of her head at the concept of the students playing pranks on each other. All the same, Jazelle stepped toward the creature that marked the beginning of a journey unlike anything she had ever imagined. “They’ll be scraping my remains off the ceiling by the end of the week,” she mumbled to herself as she closed the distance between herself and Wyrm, casting frequent, watchful glances at Tyro. 
	She reached up to take Wyrm’s hand, but paused. She looked back toward Sunder, and her eyes narrowed slightly. “Thanks," she began, largely out of cutesy. "For not turning me to stone or something. And, you know, feeding me, and everything,” she added with a bit more sincerity.
	With that, she accepted Wyrm’s helping hand. The woman proved herself stronger than she looked, pulling Jazelle into the saddle. The girl took a breath and gripped the front part of the saddle tightly. She looked to the motionless wyvern’s head, simultaneously fearing and admiring the closer view of it.
	[i]I’m on a dragon. I’m on the back of a FREAKING. DRAGON![/i] A smile pulled at the corners of her lips, and she bent her head slightly so her blond hair hid her face a bit better.
	“Would now be a bad time to mention I’ve never even ridden a horse before?” She readjusted her grip, and looked out at the horizon waiting beyond. She cast a suspicious glance behind her at the woman at the thought at how easy it would be to get pushed off miles above the ground. As much as Sunder seemed to trust the woman, Jazelle was still not entirely sure how much she trusted Sunder.