The water was already waist high twenty minutes later, and the work had been made harder by the fact that all their already opened boxes were floating amid ones that hadn’t been opened, the latter being swept off low conveyor belts by the current.

All of the four were having problems. Due to the chill of the water, each and every one of them felt numb. Only Elain and Merric seemed not to be affected by the cold. The former was probably just used to working in horrible conditions, and the latter probably didn’t even notice in the way any normal person would. Still, the girl was sticking very close to Caerphil, now. The older man, for all the difficulty, was looking much the worse for wear. Were it any other kind of situation, the dragon would have told him to find high ground. However, she was certain her sentiments wouldn’t have been appreciated; everyone here was old enough to make their own decisions. Beyond that, she doubted it would have been taken as anything but a bid for that damned key.

They’d still had no luck. Having slowly drifted toward the far side of the room as the four of them worked (trying to avoid opening boxes that had already been looked at while they floated and bumped along), Razor could hear water hissing as it reached the gate that held the fire behind it. In a way, she envied it, wishing vehemently that the water in this area were a little warmer. That would have at least made things more bearable.

To make matters worse, she knew she could do better.

Better, but at a price. To shift now would be advantageous to her position, yes, but there was no telling how the others would react. Having lived so long amid humans, terrified of being discovered, the idea of shedding that disguise and letting them see her true form was anything but appealing.

Pride can’t be keeping you from saving everyone. By now, a mental dialogue had been running in her head constantly when she wasn’t giving quick answers to one of the others or peeling Elain off. As the water rose, the girl had been even more prone to touching, a quirk that had done nothing to help the search, You aren’t that hopeless. What, are you in a rut? You know you aren’t a human.

“Well, duh…” Was that her breath? It was possible; the water was lowering the temperature of the room considerably. If she hadn’t known better (more, if she didn’t hope to all powers that it wasn’t the case), Razor would have thought the Arctic Ocean had suddenly sprung a leak into the underworld. You have the advantage, why aren’t you using it? What they think doesn’t matter. They aren’t your friends; you don’t even know them.

Are you really that desperate?

Razor didn’t know if it was the environment, impatience, despair, the recent events, or her own badgering that caused her to finally snap into a decision that at the time, she wasn’t even certain was a good idea. There was just as good a chance that all the reasons had made a large contribution.

“Oh, fuck it all!” now that the water was near her chest, everyone else was extremely impeded in their search. She had even caught sight of several of them shivering, even if no one made any comments on it. They were all cold; there was no use complaining.

There was also no better time to do what she had to do.

“Razie, what are you doing??” that was Caerphil. She didn’t blame the doctor for being confused while she stopped in the middle of the ice-cold water to strip in full view of everyone there, but she also didn’t bother answering him. When she was a dragon, something like shame hadn’t existed. Humans knew shame, and made a point to expect every intelligent creature around them to feel the same. Most hardly ever removed their clothing in their lives.  It had been so strange, at first, to learn that. An entire race that was so buried in it’s own rules and customs that they had tamed themselves.

Jeezus Christ this is cold! Her thoughts almost chattered along with her teeth, arms wrapping around her chest a bit to try and shield it uselessly from the water.

The only thing she regretted was that her outburst had turned all the attention to her. There would be no element of surprise, here… It wasn’t as if she were intending to attack any of the three others, but her instinct still examined the situation in it’s simple manner, telling her what was a good and bad idea according to nature.

Razor had never really cared for listening, anyhow.

Even though she felt that she no longer would need clothing after this point, the woman folded hers, stepping back as Merric and Caerphil’s confused gazes struggled between staring and looking away as human custom dictated. Her clothing was waterlogged, and there was a good chance she would never see any of it again… some habits just died hard.

The change came quickly after she placed the material on a nearby conveyor belt, watching them zip away only for a moment.

One of the many disadvantages to what Razor had long ago dubbed ‘The Green Light’ was that when it came off her flesh brightly, it could blind her, as well. That had been one of many reasons the dragon had practiced her shifting enough to make the process smooth, and to lower the intensity of the light she gave off. When she focused, changing forms could become as simple as leaping into the air as one creature, and landing perfectly as an entirely different one. Such a skill had saved her from discovery more times than she could count, and was a matter of personal pride. Razor truly enjoyed changing smoothly, though she only showed off the ability to people she trusted. As a consequence, very few people had ever seen her transform.

There was no reason to be discreet about the shift; the dangers that she had known in the city didn’t exist here. In a way, it was a liberating type of freedom that was only sobered by the fact that whatever opinion of her that had been formed by any of the humans was certain to be changed in the next few instants. It was for that reason that she made an effort not to frighten them with it. Inwardly, she scoffed at herself at the uselessness of such a gesture, her forefeet hitting the floor with a shock of cold going up her delicate, doglike front legs. Even now, the water reached her chest, but with the advantage of a long, graceful neck and four limbs much more powerful than that of any human, the entire thing seemed less like a death trap and more like wading into a river in the cold season.

Holding her wings up away from the water, the delicate dragoness stood silently for a moment in full glory, looking toward her opponents with a somewhat reluctant gaze. At this point, she was expecting anything, including attack.

“DAMMIT, you lying bitch! Turning into a crocodile won’t help you!”

His eyes were on her now, a mix of anger, ferocity, and determination creating an intimidating mixture much different from the usually stoic brown depths. Honestly, Razor didn’t blame him for feeling the way he did, still unsure about her change but unable to take back what she had done. She’d just have to live with it. Merric was still entirely ready to fight her in whatever form she took for the right to pass through the doors on the other side.

Razor almost could have respected that for even a moment, but the effect was lessened by the fact that he thought she was a crocodile.

A crocodile.

Really? Crocodiles have wings and long necks, now? Holy shit, I never knew I was a reptile!

“I’m not a crocodile! I’m a DRAGON!” baring her teeth at the man had little effect, but it made her feel a tad better. Ignoring how Caerphil had to block Elain from going up and trying to touch the dragon, Razor turned and readied to jump into a conveyor belt above her head.

“Dragons don't exist! They're nothing but a myth!” the doctor’s voice was disbelieving, as if he couldn’t quite grasp what he was seeing. It was his words, though, beyond anything else, that made her heart sink into her stomach with a heavy weight.

Long ago, Razor had dreamed of a world where the sky filled with dragons, with humans and the ancient beasts coexisting in relative peace. It had been a child’s dream, and a fantasy that she was learning with painful sincerity had no basis in truth. The dragon had heard of no less than three worlds on her travels. One thing was the same on all three. Either dragons were few, or they didn't exist at all.

Dragons are going extinct…

“Really now?” It wasn’t easy to force the idea that she was a member of a universal endangered species out of her mind, but somehow Razor managed it. Even as she was watched by the others, her wings extended, the pale membranes thin enough that the web work of veins could be seen pulsing just below the surface. It only took two powerful flaps to supplement her jump. Starting out as she was, it would have been hard to leap such a distance without the help of her wings. That fast-moving conveyor belt she was aiming for groaned under the weight of the dragon as she crashed onto it, the section she was on bowing slightly. She had time for one last comment before she drifted out of immediate earshot of the others, vehemently hoping they would think on her words, “Do you believe everything you're taught is true?”

The warmth of the lights overhead was a thing Razor could fully appreciate, despite that she was moving so fast that it’s effect was negated by the wind drying the water off her scales. There was little time for thought, though; the dragon hadn’t accounted for how hard it was to keep balance on a moving surface. Even as she zipped backwards across the room, her slim, lean form wobbled, unable to use the vise-like talons of her rear legs for stability due to the risk the machinery posed. Beyond that, there was a shudder as the machine continued on with the weight. Perhaps it had been a bad idea for whoever had built this place not to make the belts supported against anything but the tracks they ran on.

Now I feel fat… The slightest rustle could be heard above the whir of the gears while her wings unfurled once more. In balance, they were useful tools, though it wasn’t her intention to use them for balance as much as it was to head downward. Too long had Razor played by the rules of the court, and searching randomly through boxes to find a single key was such a narrow objective.

Instinct and good luck was all she needed. I hope. Closing her eyes, the dragon fell from the conveyor belt, her wings catching the air. There was no particular direction in her mind, and she only opened her eyes enough afterward so that she didn’t smash onto any more obstacles while she drifted down. Somehow, she figured that would have been an incredibly anticlimactic way to end her adventure here. Even in the form she was, smashing head on into a contraption of metal could definitely kill her.

After a brief moment of looking, her eyes caught on a single box floating in the water before her. Half on it’s side, the water had been seeping in for a while judging by how it listed and sat nearly three-fourths consumed by the cold liquid. Finding that one as good as any other, Razor’s wings trimmed, changing her course to aim for it so that she could catch it without shooting the box halfway across the room with the waves caused by her landing.

It took until Razor had splashed down into the water and hooked a paw around it to remember it.

Green, like the panels on Death’s truck, it was topped with a flimsy red ribbon that was utterly saturated. It was a large type of gift box, but not large enough to make it unwieldy. In fact, it looked just like an average sized Christmas present.

It was also the first box Razor had picked up that day.

Life can’t be that ironic.