One of the summoned squeaks in surprise.

The other, straight from a coffee shop with coffee in hand, blinks a few times and looks around at the environment first.

"Uh. Do you know what's going on? This is the first time any of that stuff has happened to me."

"Uh, did we walk into some prank show? I guess I wasn't paying attention, but still." She walks over and puts her cup down on the table.

"Well, I guess that's a possibility too, but I don't think so. Our town is full of them magic users. Also I just kinda teleported, that's... pretty hard to fake. Unless they started using magical artifacts for game shows?"

Sharp turn towards this other 'contestant', then a quick eye rubbing. "Full of magic users? Artifacts? Are you the prankster here, going to set off 'magics' around me?"

"No, no, I don't do magic. Pranks either."

Loud, drawn out sigh, in exasperation of it being too early for this shit.

"Then what's going on." She grabs her coffee, sips from it, then sits down in a chair.

"I am!" says a voice very clearly coming from the table.

And then she is not in that chair anymore. She is instead on a park bench, next to some people experimenting with different ways of tying each other up using some rope that looks suspiciously like a long, thin, durable sausage. Even smells like it.

From a normal start to a boring day, to being in a room with an odd fellow, and then a table claiming to be a prankster potentially sending her next to a sudden bout of public-sausage-shibari?

"It's way too early for all of this shit." At least the coffee came along, sip. "Hey, exhibitionists, where am I now?"

The Table is highly entertained. If it had lips, it would be smiling.

They keep doing public-sausage-shibari.

The tallest one untangles and says, "This town's called Keplurne. Big magic user hotspot. What happened? Dusted, elixir, or artifact?"

"Your town does not exist, neither does magic, and my best guess is 'sentient table'."

Sip. That's four counts of 'too early for this shit', or seven if you count every part of that sentence. Maybe eight if the sausage will get ripe, that's yet to be seen.

"Did you two somehow drag me to some sort of Area 51 of magic, or am I now in tableland?"

"Ah. Interdimensional stuff."

You had an interdimensional handling workshop, think, think, "Alright, so, you are in another world. Magic exists here. Its aesthetic is mostly 'weird shit', hence the sausages. Your best bet is going to one of the expert elixir makers, but I don't know where they live offhand. Probably just go in that direction" -- he points -- "and ask passers-by for directions to Dr. Bolinor's house."

"... Wait, so this is common enough to not matter?"

Eight, smell. Nine, interdimensional travel. Ten, that suggestion. We have a deca-too-early-for-this-shit.

Long, long sigh. "Do you have a mayor or something, or is random sausage-shibari-practitioners my best bet here?"

"Yeah, basically. Uh, why would you need a mayor to just ask for directions? He's pretty busy, dealing with the dancing badgers in Town Hall. Ask people on the street, they'll usually help you out."

He looks finished, but then adds, "Oh, and don't interrupt anyone who's making an elixir, that's really rude and it may be dangerous. You can tell 'cause they look really focused."

The Table does the sentient-table-equivalent of giggling.

"Dancing badg--... No, not for directions, for a official... Nevermind. I will ask a passerby." And hopefully they'll be more helpful.

Up she gets, and away from this park bench. Hopefully the next few people are not as... Out there.

Would she like to ask an otherwise normal lady wearing high heeled shoes as gloves? Or perhaps a teenage boy with a miniature hang glider attached to his back, who is up a short tree and doing something strange to it? Maybe someone who looks like a human-size talking cat?

Though talking to a human-sized cat would be certainly enlightening, the lady with the heels for hands will likely be better help. Depending on how long she'll have to stay here, Heather might come back for a chat. Heather walks towards the lady, waves a small wave, and asks "Hello, can I have a second? I am looking for Doctor Bolinor."

The kid in the tree isn't even considered, of course.

"Oh, of course, hun. He lives in a sky blue house, really hard to miss; three blocks down this road, turn left, and two more. Sorry, I can't lead you myself, I'm in a bit of a hurry. Goodbye and good luck!" She gestures with the heels of her shoe-gloves while she explains, and keeps walking.

"That worked surprisingly well. Alright, can do this... Think of the better things magic could do..."

Walk walk walk, and contemplates a 'small lie' to not have to talk to people on the way, even if they might be more acceptive of interdimensional shenanigans. Hopefully they don't bother.

She looks like she's walking with a purpose, so nobody bothers her. Until she's almost to the sky blue house, that is.

An old lady with a cat for a handbag squints and seems to recognise Heather. She walks up to her and says, "Oh, hello there, Lizzy! You've grown a lot. Are you back in town for long?"

Dear god, is that cat okay?

She turns to face his old lady with a neutral expression. "Wrong person, I have never been here before. That sky blue house there belongs to Doctor Bolinor, right?"

"Oh. I'm sorry, I thought you were my niece. Silly me."

She remembers the question. "Yes, Doctor Bolinor lives there," she answers, and keeps rambling, "he's a very nice man. You know, one time..."

She isn't really paying attention to Heather anymore.