Wyrm said nothing to the girl. It wasn't that she couldn't hear her, it was just that speaking was irrelevant, and she didn't sign up for babysitting. Simply put- she was a courier for someone, and she was delivering a package. The fact that it can speak doesn't mean that she'll take back, because in all honesty, she didn't give a shit. She was fulfilling a favor, and there was nothing more to it. 

So Wyrm said nothing, the whole 3-hour-trip to Whitehall. They crossed over valleys, meadows, a couple mountains in a single mountain range. For a brief, ten-minute span, they emerged between those two mountains in the range to be in the very tip of a valley- one that didn't connect to the lands that they had just passed. From the wyvern's birds-eye view, you could see nothing, for as far out as the thin fog would let you. Ash covered the ground, and shady figures dotted the landscape. Strange flickers of light, and a feeling of dread surrounded the barren lands.

Wyrm and her wyvern pushed on through, tilting downward to gain more speed so as to pass through faster. The mountains were all that separated these barren wastes of danger from more peaceful allied lands. Only half an hour after that did they finally reach their destination.

Situated in the middle of a green, vibrant valley stood a towering castle of modest heights and magnificent lengths. It only rose maybe a half-dozen stories into the air, but it sprawled to be well over the size of a small town. Inside its walls, the main keep took up nearly all the space. Various constructions ranged around outside the castle-palace of white-grey stone, some of them appearing to be farms of wheat, barley, and other grains, some other growing trees. In one large section, it was dense, dense forest. In another, there were multiple pastures, but the creatures that resided in were... shrouded by some sort of veil, that hung over it. Gardens sat here and there between them, and roughly three miles westward, there sat a prosperous, growing town, also walled with similar, though slightly shinier and more recently placed, rock. 

Whitehall sat on the edge of the green valleys and still living lands of the Allied Lands- the many, many kingdoms and republics that made up the remaining living areas of the continent.

Just on the edge of one's sight from even the Wyvern's point of view, you could see those green fields and forests cut off abrupt into... nothing. More specifically, it was all dead- just grey, dead earth, barren brittle trees, and little else. 

Wyrm and her wyvern banked to the side, spiraling down towards the castle. Just as the winged reptile passed over Whitehall's walls, Wyrm yanked back on her reins, the wyvern obediently throwing its wings out wide, catching as much air as possible to come to a complete and abrupt halt. Now beating its wings to stay aloft, they slowly lost altitude until the Wyvern's black claws finally touched ground, the wyvern dropping forward with a loud [i]thump.[/i]

In front of them, there sat a set of stairs rising up to a large double-oak doorway, both of its doors only just now being thrown open by an eccentric young man, with wild black hair that had bright white streaks running through it. Tall, lanky, with a face that was as sharp as a spear, an undoubtedly wizened and old voice spouted from the man.

"Welcome, Wyrm, welcome! I see you brought Sunder's charge. Thank you for that, my dear. Now then, if you'd dismount..."

Wyrm didn't move, but instead they both looked at Jazelle.

"...And tell me your name. The one you'd like to be known by. If you don't know it yet, it's no rush. Simply report it to any tutor, or myself, by the end of the week. Now, we're already partway through the opening two weeks, so if you'd come with me...?"

The man- who appeared young, but spoke with a voice that was aged and somewhat unused to having such a capable body- stepped to the side, flourishing a little to present the grand entry hallway beyond the doors.

"Whitehall academy awaits."