The island is mountainous, and shrouded in mist. As the ship approaches, the mist clears slightly to reveal a small dock and wooden village clinging to the edge of the water. There's people going about their business; a few stop to stare at the airship as it grows visible.

Adam and the entire crew and the two passengers (why did his parents had to insist in coming?) stare at the village at the edge of the water. Like they are staring at a bunch of suicidal people. It's exactly that kind of staring, actually. Sure the houses would be safe, but there is no reason to live in a place where someone could slip and fall into water.

Adam exams the place through his spyglass. Are those things boats? They don't look sealed enough to be safe! What is going on?!

Well, that is confusing and they can't recognize those shapes... which they appear to have only one kind?

After some deliberation they send three winged people village-wards.

They're met at the docks by a couple of villagers, including an old woman in a brightly embroidered blouse, a broad collar of turquoise and gold, and turquoise plug earrings, with her white hair elaborately braided with long, green feathers tied in. There's children peeking around, clearly curious about the new arrivals.

The old woman steps forward when they arrive, calling something out in an unfamiliar language. 

The new arrivals look mostly human but with wings (the single male in the group has claws), their apparent leader is the very tall winged woman that takes a step forward.

It's a bit strange that they sent an aged person to greet them. But the entire thing is strange already.

Sofia replies with something that is mutually unfamiliar and tries a few other things.

She cycles through a couple of other languages, then, recognizing that none of them are getting a reaction, pulls a feather out of her hair and a small knife with a black blade off her waist. She makes a small cut in her thumb, runs the blood along the feather, then murmurs a prayer. The feather vanishes in a flare of harmless flame.

"Well, now is that better?" she asks, clearly understandable, though still obviously speaking a language they didn't know until just then. 

Sofia was about to pull her own translation solution. But this is better than translating writing. "Yes. Hello, I'm Sofia Whiteburn. My ship got turned around during a storm and we are a bit lost."

"I've never seen a ship quite like that. Where're you from originally?"

"It's a recent invention. This is its maiden voyage, actually. We departed from Port Constantinus and were meant to cross the strait to the Silver Bay outpost."

"Never heard of either of them, but I haven't heard of much that isn't local. This island's Tohombodehe. We're on Omaven, off the coast of Madeza."

Confusion. "I never heard of either of those too. I don't think we would be that off course. ...I confess that I also don't recognize your shapes."

"Shapes?"

Blinking. "You don't have shapes?" She says in the tones of someone asking 'you don't have legs?'. "Forms that you could change into? Like, this is my Ventari shape, with wings, and I could change into my Petram shape, with stony skin."

She hums. "No, that isn't magic that I have, though I suppose I could pray for a different shape if I was very unhappy with mine? Young Pati did that. I've heard that the Umexalim can shape-change, but I don't know much about them... And the spirits of course can take whatever shape they please. Can everyone where you're from change shape?"

"I think we are either further away from each other or there is a greater communication gap between us than just the language."

"...Does everyone where you're from have the same type of magic?"

"Not everyone, but nearly everyone can shift between shapes unless they lost all but one of them. ...I guess it might depend if count that as magic."

Wryly: "We consider shapeshifting to be magic, yes. You said you got here after getting lost in a storm; were you in the ley at the time?"

"I'm not familiar with the term 'ley'."

"Hm. I suspect you may be farther from home than we thought; the ley lines connect the reality-islands to each other, that you don't have a word for them is strange." A pause, then: "...I'm afraid the realm may have stolen you. Haven't heard of it stealing a whole ship before, but I suppose that could happen."

"Well... that sounds like I should include more people in this conversation. How does the realm steal people and things? Uh, do you have explanations for people that suddenly arrive here?"

"No one knows, I don't think, and I don't really have an explanation prepared - we've never gotten a first-gen while I've been here. It's just something you hear about, traveling."

Sofia nods. "I'm sorry for asking, but would you mind giving even an unprepared explanation?"

"Well, this realm isn't all one piece - it's a bunch of bits floating around in the void. We call them reality-islands. Only way to get between them is the ley. You're standing on part of the biggest reality-island, Omaven. It's a proper continent, with an ocean and everything. Most islands are small, though. Barely more than enough ground to support a village, if that. People sometimes appear, from all sorts of worlds. The tales would have it that getting lost's what does the trick."

"Well, we certainly go lost. Sorry, do you mind if I call my husband and son here?"