Emilia is not familiar with roller coasters, but if she was, she'd think this whole dragon riding experience is somewhat comparable. Up, down, sideways — the combination of forces, gravitational and otherwise, a breathtaking exercise in just holding on for dear life, particularly when the skies are controlled by an undead warlord.

There's so much godsdamned wind. Cold, cold wind.

Breath is just completely knocked out of her as she crashes into Wrathion, her limbs gripping onto him as best they can. She isn't sitting, so much as flopped on him, allowing herself to sink into the warmth he offers, if only for a moment. How could she not recognize his voice immediately? His fire, invigorating her own?

Thank you, she whispers, though the odds of him hearing her are possibly not great. Her cheek settles against his beautiful scales, bleary eyes closing briefly. It would be so easy to give into the tiredness.

But she refuses, and is quick to straighten back up, positioning herself better to ride ... her friend. She goes quiet, something very dangerous in the way she stills. "I don't see her."

Opal.

She tries to reach out to their connection, but Anurr's winds attempt to drive into their minds once more, a disorienting spike of undead energy. They're together now, though. It'll be better now.