anniversary

[dark_light]

Time passes. Canada is cooperative about portals and now there's one each in Toronto, Montreal, and Vancouver, on a second floor of the hub with customs agents Isabella is tolerating for the time being as long as they're well-behaved. Japan and Australia and the UK all follow suit at roughly the same time, so then there are portals in their big cities, too, a couple new ones per week. Other nations are slated to trickle in as they handle their red tape to deal with sudden new national borders that don't have the built-in delay of airplanes. Some of the parking garages are being replaced with custom-built installations. Isabella pays off her loan, renegotiates for the continued use of her shiny credit card, and has reason to be grateful for her retained law firm, which is kept busy by frivolous lawsuits by airline companies. She's not appreciably cutting into their traffic yet - sure, the price point is dropping, but they're still competitive. They can just smell their own demise coming from a mile away.

Five witches besides Isabella ward the colony site. Robots guard the site of the portal, obligingly letting colonists through during scheduled trips and reporting to Isabella by mirror if anybody else shows up. Other robots help the colonists with setting up their farms and houses in the warded area. It'll hold a city, no problem, although another transfer of silks and bags to pay for warding a second site is going to be called for before they get literally everyone across, since in addition to city they need farmland, and since they can't build vertically as effectively as fully industrialized Earthlings or the deceased aliens.

One day:

"It's been exactly a year now since you crashed my picnic. Let's go to a fancy restaurant and celebrate."

Comments

[dark_light]

"I don't know, would that improve our luck or worsen it?"

[prodigal_miser]

"Worsen it, but we would have answers."

[dark_light]

"I think we should leave them be. I wouldn't want worsened luck making a hash of things."

More kiss. He's just so kissable.

[prodigal_miser]

"Mhmmm," he says, because he can't manage anything else while he is kissing her. Saying something would mean he has to stop. He would rather not right now!

Kiss!

[ofthefallen]

That is when two women women teleport to lake Michigan. The taller of the two looks over Adarin and Isabella with a bored expression, despite what they're doing.

The Siamese cat that appears beside her gets barely a glance. She was expecting this outcome. (The cat is just as unsurprised.)

[silkhiding]

However, her companion makes an 'Eep' sound, looking embarrassed. Her new tiny bird flies to hide under her hair, and she murmurs, "Perhaps this is a bad time...?"

[dark_light]

Path looks up, and then so does Isabella, when he dives into her lap.

"I'd ask," she says heavily, "where you came from, but I think I know."

[ofthefallen]

"That saves us an explanation," says the taller woman, archly.

[prodigal_miser]

Adarin's looks up, and stares. "... Why," he says, sounding disturbed, "do you have six ghosts following you?"

Isabella sees no ghosts, only the two mages.

[ofthefallen]

"They wanted to come."

[silkhiding]

"... They're really all quite nice," says the smaller one who is - cringing an awful lot like Enathira did. In fact, she looks very much like her.

[dark_light]

"...I don't see any ghosts?"

[ofthefallen]

"You do not have the proper magic to see them," says the redhead.

"However magical you may be," adds the Siamese.

[dark_light]

"What are you and your ghosts doing here?"

[silkhiding]

"... Um. N-Nothing... Nothing bad, don't worry, we're not - going to do anything." She winces a little. "Not even try to - convince you to go back, or something. Especially not that."

Her little bird trills a few sad notes.

[prodigal_miser]

Adarin looks between the two, and focuses on the cringing one. "... You're Enathira's sister."

[silkhiding]

Another wince, some more shrinking. "Yes. I am."

[dark_light]

Path creeps out of Isabella's lap to go put a wing over Vern instead.

[prodigal_miser]

Vern snuggles him. She preens Path, a little. Adarin currently has his cold poker face on, he's unreadable. (But he takes Isabella's hand.)

[silkhiding]

"... Um. I-I wanted... To apologize. For - everything."

Her daemon whispers something in her ear, and she pets him, apparently finding whatever it was soothing. She looks honestly sorry.

[dark_light]

"This is a long trip and a serious soul renovation to undertake to issue an apology for something you didn't personally do." Isabella squeezes Adarin's hand.

[silkhiding]

"She wasn't - doing it, it's the sort of thing that someone should apologize for and I don't think anyone else was." She looks down. "So I am."

[prodigal_miser]

"Thank you," says Adarin, but he's not calming down. Not right now.

[dark_light]

"So you've apologized. Now what? Are you going to get an apartment in Skokie and breed exotic lizards, what's the plan?"

[ofthefallen]

"Actually," says the other mage, "we are here because we agree with you. So we're offering help."