Oleda stared at chaos in front of her. Unsure what to tackle first. Unsure if interfering would make it better or worse. 

White knuckles remained clamped down on the loose papers over the desk. She knew [i]theoretically[/i] she should pull them out of the storm and under the counter where they'd be safe. Yet she was stumped. Not willing to accept it... Grey blue took in the thrashing winds with a tight-lipped expression. The mismatched wooden boards cracked with roots. The banners as one ripped from its hinges and snagged on a table-

[i]"H-hello, Lady Oleda."[/i]

[i]Ah.[/i] The witch blinked. A voice she hadn't heard approach over the roaring winds. 

She realised her mistake a second late. Her hand had lifted a fraction off the papers and like a great flock of sparrows the air tore them from beneath her palm— twisting and swooping towards the murky surface of the dungeon. Oleda watched as they disappeared with soundless ripples, looking as if she'd bitten a lime. [i]Please tell me those weren't important.[/i]

Ah, but they would be. It was her fault for leaving them out, really. She should know by now misfortune followed the guild like an overzealous cat.

[i]"Umm, is that supposed to be here?"[/i]

The coppery echo was distinct, dragging her back from thoughts of past catastrophes before she could measure how they compared to now. Her eyes snapped to the fins of the lancer's helm, though the sound of his voice alerted her first to who it was. "Merc-" she said. Her gaze noted the armful of items, dark gloves clutching books and loose rubble against his chestplate. He glanced between her and the howling rift. Eyes shifting beneath the circles of his visor. 

"Oh." The question caught up with her head and she blinked, glancing towards the heart of the destruction. Roots had begun curling upwards, weaving around each other as they followed the boundry of the energy. "I'm assuming you mean the incarnation of chaos over there..." A stray mug came whistling towards them, narrowly avoiding Oleda's head. The witch paused her gesture, continuing a little faintly. "-not really, no."

[i]Though it really depends on the interpretation of 'meant'.[/i] She was sure the world [i]meant[/i] for it to be there, whether because the guild was so charged with magic or the universe hated their guts. But as far as plans for the day went, dealing with an interdimensional rift had not been on the agenda, no.

The lancer's stance caught her attention as Oleda dragged her eyes from the chaos. Her brow creased, watching his finicky gaze beneath the visor. The blue glint of scales were somewhat visible around his eyes, reminding her she had yet to see anything more than the rounded helm he wore. "I guess this is your first time seeing a dungeon form," she said. 

It wasn't unusual. People usually found dungeons—if they found them at all—[i]after[/i] the initial opening and the boundry had been established. Or the destruction drew their attention and by the time they arrived it had become stable. Field researchers tended to encounter them the most, as they were often at the site of magic infused phenomena.

Oleda was not a field researcher. But she had, on occasion, been known to dabble with waystones. It was uncommon knowledge that breaking a waystone could trigger a dungeon forming. After all, as far as anyone knew they worked by warping through the rift. 

Long story short, she no longer brought waystones anywhere near her room.

The sound of the guild doors brought a new element to the scene and for one, dreadful moment Oleda feared the force had been strong enough to tear the wood from its hinges. 

[i]"This is probably a bad time to ask about joining the Guild, but do you need help with anything?"[/i] The stranger's voice seemed to carry across the wind.

"Uh, it's under control!" Oleda called back. As if spiteful of her words a stray piece of wood came spinning towards the two. She squawked, ducking under the counter and pulling Mercutio with her. "I'd stay back! It'll be like this until it forms a proper boundary!"