It is, all in all, better than jumping onto the back of that sickly dragon in Gringotts and praying for the best to happen. At least this time around, they have similar goals and Wrathion would not shake her off in a fit of rage.

She climbs up to straddle what might be the back of his neck, the span of his wings stretching out behind her for now, and immediately aims a little cushioning spell under her for comfort. Then she ties herself in for the journey, the belt looped around his head and clasped around her waist, and squeezes her thighs to let him know she's ready.

It's a good thing she's chosen to wear practical clothes for flying, really. The cloak has been replaced by a warm jacket, further warmth achieved by the scarf around her neck - which she now wraps over her nose and mouth too - and an old leather bracer has been refashioned as a wand holster, keeping her wand secure for the right.

"Alright then - flying, and all that." She grabs onto the reins-not-reins, and loops them around her wrist. "Let's go those herbs."