Today, she is at home. She is not in deep meditation, but she might look like it, eyes closed, floating crosslegged in the air, not paying attention to the weight of the clothes on her body or the wreath of sunny yellow-berried blue-leafed holly resting on her hair, just thinking about hurricanes and the most efficient way to prevent them from forming over the sea. (She can channel immense spells. She is not sure how immense, and it would be very dangerous to lose hold of one. She retains some concern for limiting the size of her enchantments.)
When she is busy with something she cannot interrupt, her door is locked. Today it is not. There were no hurricanes when she last checked, and if any form in the next few hours, she will be able to address them on the spot, she knows; this spell is not urgent on that scale.
If anyone needs her they may come in.
"And they - are so close as to be one person, one mind, they have been together so long and began so similar," she says shakily. "And I miss them so much."
He already has enough clues to guess. The island took thousands of years; no Wildmage or High Mage lives that long, and Isibel is obviously the Elfmage in the group.
Hug.
"They lived together on this island, alone, for thousands and thousands of years. He did not know he was the last until I told him."
"He is himself, instead. It may have to do with the template. But he is free of taint; he is not even burned by the touch of a unicorn's horn, anymore."
"I saw those first. And I knew that whoever had made them loved that unicorn. And then I saw my beloved - the smaller of the two - and I did not run away."
"We had no common language. I had to teach him. And he told me what was and was not safe to eat, of the plants and animals he had made."
"Yes. It also explains some of the fruits that the elves who live here like so much, if you have seen those. He made them. He likes to make custom fruit for people."
"I haven't noticed the custom fruits. But I'll keep an eye out now that you've mentioned it."