The Bastion - a DWRP game

Who: A very disgruntled and possibly aggressive dragon kit
Open: Wide open! (unlike the door will be; Kitten can't reach doorknobs)
When: Day 152, afternoon
Where: Near the arrival point in the Bastion, or locked into whatever building you like
What: Kitten arrives and has questions. ...Also she didn't know about spell limits.
Format: Prose preferred but I'll match!
Warnings: Don't antagonize an angry dragon?

Kitten is very disoriented upon arrival on the plains. It isn't just the shifting of the ground around her, appearing as she moves. She reaches her magic down into it, the way she'd check for faultlines, but fails to learn anything of use. The circumstances allowing for kidnap of a dragon are few, and yet here she is, in a strange place unlike any of which she is aware in either the Mortal or Divine realms.

Noticing something on her wrist, Kitten claws at it, wondering whether it is the mechanism of her capture. She can sense something from the amulet, but it is an unfamiliar magic if it is magic at all.

For lack of any better plan, the dragon starts out for what seems like a beacon. She plants her feet firmly even with the knowledge that the ground on which she steps only appeared there moments ago. When she is finally picked up and taken to the Bastion, it's her first flight not clutched carefully in the talons of a grandparent; she is still far too young to fly, her wings underdeveloped.

She can see buildings, signs of life, in the Bastion. And so, Kitten shouts into the mind of anyone unfortunate enough to be within her range, doing her best to sound competent and intimidating, "WHERE AM I!? Why have you brought me here? Where are my parents? They had best be safe!"

That will do for a starting point.

Once she has either received at least a few answers or been thoroughly ignored, Kitten shifts the color of her scales. She blends chameleonlike into the area around her as she chooses a building to explore. A soft whistle, and the door opens on its own. She pushes it shut gently, quietly, and sneaks through the rooms unseen, doing her best to muffle any noise of claws on floor. Only someone with better hearing than human is likely to notice her footsteps.

The whistles are more audible, as are the latches of doors as they open at her voice and are shut carefully behind her. The fourth door, however, poses a problem.

Kitten senses no magic in it, but it won't open. Immediately, she turns around to head back the way she came, running at the door and whistling shrilly without any regard for stealth or silence. It stays shut. Kitten casts a bitter glance upward at the handle of the door, beyond her reach.

Hopefully someone comes to investigate before she takes drastic measures. You do like your doors and your buildings in one piece, I suppose.