Alicorn Sandbox

Isabella and her husband go home.

And Chamomile's opinions about the proper location of souls assert themselves.

The Earthlings native and adopted stay in Marlatia, hiding uneventfully in the guest room, for several days. Isabella immortalizes king and queen both when they sneak her to a sufficiently large, empty, and unoccupied room to do it in. When Adarin has enough mana he makes mirror pairs for each of their majesties to contact their counterpart - Isabella's portal bag is kind of accumulating mirrors at this point. And when he has more mana still, Iobel finds a slightly-bigger-than-door-sized plank and a set of hinges and some screws and combines all these objects on the ceiling of a lockable room on the first floor but out of the way, currently serving as storage for a lot of broken musical instruments that someone once probably identified as probably repairable. This plank gets a portal on it, and the Earthlings go home.

After catching up on business - and allowing time to recover mana, again - and getting their Marlatian alts a laptop each, and putting a router and chargers within easy reach of the portal on their side, which is also on a sheet of wood but is kept in their basement propped up against a wall -

Isabella snuggles up to her husband and suggests searching the planes for more of themselves.

Veron is installed in a nice house in Seattle with the help of Isabella's staff.

The colony gets big enough that Isabella sculpts herself an ice crown and applies permanency to it so it won't melt. She makes Adarin one too out of cypress branches, wired into shape, magicked to stay alive and shaped like that, and then freed of the wire. She wears hers on Earth sometimes, as well as on the colony. Her queen elects not to comment.

Various people are resurrected. Isabella hires more people to sort more requests; she's not going to be able to handle this via descending on charities. (She extracts longer-term promises of help - and nonviolence - from the clans she shares this spell with, though.) She opens an office near San Francisco, puts a lot of poultry in the back yard and makes a deal with an egg producer to save the otherwise unwanted males till adulthood for the purpose in future months, arranges regular deliveries of all the necessary herbs and ashes, and has someone carve out an enormous stencil of all the runes to speed up the process: the diagram may now be drawn with a broom, as long as it's still a witch doing it. (She also has stencils of the immortalization spell made.) There is always some witch in residence, working off their favor to her a few hours at a time, and a security team to prevent unruly demands, interference by religious protestors, and a receptionist or two to make sure the people coming in actually have appointments (or standby arrangements, in case of no-shows) to collect loved ones.

She gets into a bit of an argument with the United States military about resurrecting fallen soldiers. While she originally had no intention of discriminating against soldiers, she insists that resurrected ones be considered honorably discharged and that their re-upping be optional, and absolutely refuses to approve any systematic preferential resurrection of people who are just going to pick up guns and walk into war zones again.

Normally, there would be some clan with access to the spell who'd cut a deal.

On this occasion, with this particular Olympic witch having come up with three (really two, but the portals are still officially credited to her, with everyone understanding now that she's proprietary about the process and capitalistic about the disposition to fund her anti-death projects) revolutionary spells in fewer years than that, they're a little concerned that they won't get a look in the next time she publishes, if they do things she doesn't approve of.

Isabella threatens to move her resurrection office to New Zealand. The military backpedals. Resurrections proceed.

(Isabella does open a second resurrection office in New Zealand. And one in Finland and one in India. There are witch clans all around the world and they are all beholden to her.)

Insurance companies freak out, then remake their actuarial tables and throw lawyers at their contractual language and calm down again. Isabella's insurance company of choice has a small head start. Isabella's insurance company of choice loves her.

Luzia gets her son back. She dithers for a bit about the husband. She gets the husband back. The husband is kind of taken aback by Luzia's activities since then but decides that Zeviana "doesn't count" as cheating. It's up to Zeviana whether she wants to call that close enough and continue carrying on.

Isabella and Adarin have no such problems. They continue to be deliriously happy.

Then, there's a relatively slow day. Isabella flops across her husband's lap on the couch and says, "Want to start looking for places to plague with utopias?"

Isabella has one of the central not-a-portal bits of the hub - the ones that are occupied by a shifting collection of the airport-standard restaurants and gift shops and newsstands - turned into a small apartment-cum-office for Seraphina. The office is unlabeled for the time being - just "Authorized Personnel Only" in ominous letters - but Isabella tells her what the fire and security alarms sound like and suggests that she be a responder to these if they go off. "Mutter your mnemonics under your breath while you do anything magic in public, and people will figure you're a witch," she says. "I'm still thinking about any less irregular jobs I could have you doing, but unless you come out with a more generic set of healing spells than it sounds like you currently have I don't think I can explain installing you as magical first aid." Seraphina gets a modest stipend on top of her room and voucher for the hub restaurants, and a brief tour of Chicago shopping (because there's dozens of cities to choose from but Chicago's the one she's seen before) so she knows how to avoid major cultural pitfalls trying to get a new pair of shoes.

Xiara, when her mana recovers, is directed to teleport to a tucked-away part of a temperate national preserve, told to lie low, given a list of endangered species she is not to eat or disturb, and left to her own devices with a mirror in case she wants to talk about something or needs help with a park ranger or something. Isabella could use an architect, but mostly on the colony, which is not to be known to any mages yet.