She's a little distant for a moment, but then there's a sense of appreciative agreement, and she stands and manifests a cartoon door on the glass wall to step through. (It's not much of a misdirection, but better than them knowing she can phase without any prep or limitations at all.)

Megan makes to follow her, but when she vanishes the door she shrugs and teleports out.

She manifests the bike again, manages to smile about it. She hates this so much and she's so glad she's good at it.

"Nice," says Megan, "that's a really cool utility power. Follow me." She takes off, texting her teammates once she's cruising.

She follows compliantly.

Megan leads her to a Church of Thaumatology a town over. It's a really pretty building.

She gawks, a little, but follows her in.

There's a magical girl who apparently lives in the church and is easily woken by Megan ringing a bell. She comes out in pajamas but switches smoothly into full vogue; she does a watercolor painting theme including elaborate lipstick and eyeshadow and abstract floral ornaments in her hair. "Hello, girls, what brings you here?"

New people are scary and there's no reason to hide that right now. She shrinks back just a little; hopefully Megan will take the cue to do the talking.

"- she ran away. I think she came from someplace real scary but she does telepathy magic instead of talking so I don't know all the details."

Yes, that's right.

"I see," says the watercolor girl. "What's your name, dear?"

"I'm Megan," says Megan.

(Shy shy shy shy shy)

Her name is Janet.

"Hello, Janet, I'm Thaumaturge Flora. Would you like to spend the night in the spare room here?"

Yes please.

"This way. Thank you, Megan."

Megan bows a little and lets herself out. Flora shows "Janet" to a guest room.

She follows, and sits nervously on the offered bed.

Thank you.

"You're welcome, Janet. I assume you can sort out your own pajamas. The bathroom's just across the hall. I'm usually up at six but if you rise even earlier than I do there are toaster waffles and cereal and fruit in the kitchen down that way."

Okay. Thank you.

"You're welcome, Janet," Flora says again, and she changes back into her pajamas with a gestured flourish and goes back to bed.

She gives Flora a minute to get back to her bed, phases out for silence, and goes looking for the kitchen.

There is the kitchen. It's big; it's a combination kitchen and dining room, with three long tables that can probably seat thirty together. In addition to the promised breakfast foods it also has a tray of cookies (storebought, still sealed), leftover chicken soup and pasta in the fridge, sandwich and salad fixings including a really wide variety of pickles, and little jars of panna cotta and cups of fruit-on-the-bottom yogurt lining the inside of the fridge door. The freezer contains six flavors of ice cream, bacon, and lemonade concentrate.

The theme of the room seems to be something along the lines of "rustic"; the fruit is in wicker baskets, the tables are heavy wooden things with half-log-topped benches. The cookware's all copper and it's dangling from the rafters; also dangling are various herbs in planters, bunches of dried wildflowers, and strings of garlic. The refrigerator has been paneled in wood somehow; it might be wood sheets with magnets glued to it. There are placemats on the tables, braided flat rope coils. A poster on the wall reads God wills that we see the beauty in one another. The windows are stained glass, though the colors are hard to make out in the dark; each depicts a magical girl, though.

Wow.

She doesn't examine the food very closely, but she takes an apple and, feeling ambitious, carefully puts together a turkey sandwich, and then a ham one. She feels much better when she's done eating, and decides to explore a little further.

The kitchen is where the Thaumaturge's apartment bleeds into public church space. The dining end of the kitchen leads into the main sanctuary, which is divided into four quadrants with their own decorating schemes - one quarter is greyscale and has feathers in all shades of white and black and grey attached along the tops of the pews, one's all warm colors with the pews draped in brocade, one's greens and browns and festooned with tiny succulents and Spanish moss wherever people won't need to sit, and one's in blue and purple and encrusted with seashells. There's a bulletin board on the far side near the main entrance (Megan brought Denice in through the rear side door that lets directly into Flora's apartment); on it are children's art projects. Between each pair of windows along the walls of the church there is a statue of a different cryptid; there's a winged deer with a rack of antlers that looks like it ought to be too much for her head to support, and a six-armed naga, and a spider-taur, and a girl's smiling face peering out of what is otherwise an apple tree. Tree-cryptid is closest to planty pew section but otherwise they don't look matchy.

....oh. Oh.

She sees it, imagining the space filled with magical girls. How it's made to work for them, not the other way around. She fits in the green and brown section; Megan would fit in the greyscale; Flora would fit in the red. It might not work for everyone, but it tries, it tries to fit itself to people rather than demanding that people fit themselves to it.

She's never seen anything like it before.

She still... can't, with school; the threat of it still sits as a knot of tension in her belly. But maybe she can stay a little while anyway. A day or two. She'll give herself that, a little treasure of a memory to think back on later; that's the only thing you can really keep, anyway.

She goes to sit in a pew, in the nature section, of course.