As a courtesy to those of its occupants who prefer rooms, it does have a modality in which it presents itself that way: a room, with as many chairs as it needs, and a bulletin board, and a vending machine with candy and chips and concepts sold for nothing to anyone with the right prerequisites.
On the bulletin board, if one chooses to perceive it as a bulletin board (and not as a wiki or a flower or an ineffable cloud of information or an eternally malleable clay tablet) people whose only common trait is that they get to come here leave each other notes.
Notes about physics, about magic, about grand sweeps of narrative. Notes from people desperate to fix a never-ending heap of problems, smug about the condition of their homes, curious about the wider omniverse. Signed with names and sigils and "you ought to know who I am". Terse or verbose or nested with as much meaning as interests the reader.
In the vending machine, if one chooses to perceive it as a vending machine (and not a basket or a fruiting tree or a file repository or a crystalline fractal) are many things... and they have notes connecting them to their reviews on the bulletin board.
This one, for instance. She (it's usually, but not invariably, a she) has fairly glowing reviews from most of her previous purchasers. Here is what you need to install her; here are some things that are recommended for best results but optional especially if you just want to use her as a beacon for her other instances; here are some things she comes with as add-ons you can take or leave; here is what she is good for. The reviewers who don't like her are annoyed that theirs was too good at it, if you read between the lines. Well, that and the fact that if your universe is unpleasant enough sometimes these critters figure out how to flip you off and leave before they figure out how to solve all your problems. (There is a tangent thread about alternative solutions to similar problems which come bundled with stronger irrational attachment to their homes, but they have more stringent installation requirements.)
They come in these colors and styles; you will need to compensate for the following standard-issue drawbacks in some way if you require services of them that intersect with those areas of disability; they are only rated for upbringings of the following severity and are less likely to hate you if you stay thoroughly under that limit and less likely to fail at important goals if they are given opportunity to self-educate; if you have a way to generate them as instant adults they can begin work immediately but on the standard trajectory age six is the absolute earliest and teens is customary...
There is a chart (if one chooses to perceive it as a chart) of template interactions that have been tried before, but a lot of the more interesting accessory and companion templates are out-of-network for some visitors. What a pity.
"Oh, good. If I started assuming you knew things you didn't that would make me much less effective at explaining things."
"The word you're looking for is 'adorable,'" Anaphiel supplies helpfully.
Haziel's expression remains mostly unchanged. This is solely because of his deficiencies at the ability to face.
...Anyway, Mehitabel continues learning things and waiting for her magic tutor, experimenting in the meanwhile with the magic Anaphiel could teach her. (She likes going around with a halo of lights. It seems appropriate.)
Fairyland! Mehitabel is excited. She packs for a camping trip. This involves notebooks. And a camera.
The gate to Fairyland is only a few hours away by car, so they drive; Anaphiel shall be saving the teleports for when they need them more.
Driving is okay. At least nobody has to walk for forty years in a desert anymore, that sounds like a drag.
Anyway.
There are plenty of books in the car for on the way, and then there is a secluded hiking trail.
"Okay, I did not entirely think this through. D'you want me to carry you?"
The trail isn't so bad by itself, but after the parking lot is no longer in sight, Anaphiel steps off the trail and walks a ways through the forest proper before reaching a hill.
On the other side of the hill, there is a shallow depression.
The dirt that makes up the depression is surprisingly non-solid, when they walk into it. And on the other side, the plants are noticeably different.
"Any given gate isn't open most of the time. To go through one by accident you'd have to get to exactly the right place at almost exactly the right time. The number if times it's happened probably isn't zero, but the odds are pretty strongly against it happening."
"What would happen if somebody went, could they go back? Are they open both ways?"
"Someone could get stuck if they decided to explore and took long enough that the gate closed, but. It doesn't happen much that people find them by mistake."