They were running late, which was absurd. Alva Seldrun was never late, unless the house had been left vacant, she now knew. Her wake up call had come in the form of a low, terrible thunder which set the shields upon the wall shaking. Oddly enough, when she'd looked outside, the skies were clear save for a handful of dragons. "Labrys, come," she demanded, finding the red dragon slumbering by the door. The thing had the audacity to sit up in the middle of an empty room and intone "Labrys?" in a raspy facsimile of her voice before looking around for what ever that word could have meant. In the dragon's mind, half an hour late meant taking the day off. To his master, such an idea was heresy. She dangled the bolt of multicolored cloth around her neck in front of its expectant eyes, drawing its attention and leading the flamehuffer out of the lodge. Breakfast was a few scraps of bread eaten on their run to the academy. Labrys kept pace on the ground far easier than Alva did, though at first his only motivation to move was following his favorite color. The grounds were busy as usual. One large group of rare looking types - and a basic brown - had formed close by, but she had little desire to start mixing with trainers gifted in their class of dragon after showing up late. It was around that thought that she began to notice that a familiar heat had left her side. Alva's eyes lowered to the ground, just in time to see a red bolt streaking off towards the collection of trainers and dragons. Something had caught his interest.
The bread was irresistible, far fresher and dressed with herbs the dragon's palette had scarcely encountered before on the outright draconian diet he subsisted on. With little regard to the collection of dragons currently feasting on the bread, the small, warm creature weaved his way through the crowd, chattering with excitement that might have been mistaken for giggling as it sought out the remaining morsels of dirty bread upon the ground. Only after it had finished gorging itself did the obnoxiously colored dragon contemplate its surroundings. Labrys froze awkwardly in place, belching a tiny gout of fire as his eyes moved between all of the dragons nearby. In the distance, his black clad trainer was slowly approaching, frowning. That slow gait meant problems. He already had problems.