Adarin is going to go with the method of 'explain the spell over the phone.'

It is very complicated.

"Are you absolutely sure that you won't just teleport down here fo- oh, fine. No, no I'm not going to do that, but this is annoying, why do you like this stuff? It's stupidly complicated," she pronounces.

After about ten minutes, Zeviana needs to grab paper and start taking notes. She asks lots and lots of questions, and occasionally needs to question the answer to a question she asked before, or needs explanation to even understand the answer.

It takes hours.

Eventually, near-buried in a pile of notes, she manages the spell by taking it very slowly and reading through all of the notes as she goes.

"Did it - yup, it worked. God that was a pain, Adarin you're a nut," she sighs. "Sorry, sorry, didn't mean it like that - thanks for explaining it. It was nice of you. Love you, too. Bye."

Phone can go back to Ranata if she'd like to say any goodbyes to Isabella. Zeviana's going to go rest her brain for a little while. Flop, onto the couch.

Ranata would like to say goodbye to Isabella.

(In the hours Zeviana has been listening to the spell explanation, Ranata has: 1) plugged in the phone so it doesn't die on her, 2) patched a hole in a pair of Charlie's jeans, 3) read two chapters of a library book on 1920s counterculture, 4) used the landline in another room to call a friend of hers in Mexico, 5) written an email to another friend in North Dakota.)

"Well. Ugh, that was painful. I kind of want to burn the notes, but I know I might need them later but I don't want to cast that stupid spell again."

(All blessings to her in her distractions. There's no reason two of them should be tortured by overly-complicated magic.)

"Okay, if you want 'em."

She goes and retrieves the pile of notes. They get straightened a little, then plopped onto a table. "They're kind of still in order, so I guess that'll help if you're curious about them."

"I'd imagine, yes." Renée tucks them onto the bookshelf. "Off we go, then."

And off they go!

Off they go! Witchery awaits.

Zeviana and Lecasryn are incredibly excited.

The clan lands are big. Ranata mentions it when they go over the border, but keeps flying, and eventually drops below the treeline for a closer look at activities on the ground. There are witches about, mostly adults, about half of them naked, gardening and hunting and reading and sparring and chatting and drawing magic circles.

Eventually Ranata finds the queen, and lands, and dismounts.

Yup. That's certainly no nudity taboo, right there. Zeviana is not complaining. Not at all. Oh, if she gets accepted as a not-witch, she's going to be so happy. This is the most wonderful place. There are just gorgeous women everywhere, often without clothes. She's not going to start causing a scene or anything, but she does grin a little when they arrive.

When they locate the queen, she remembers her manners, and more importantly why she should mind them. How to curtsy was one of the things she had to learn, but honestly it's not her style. She bows, instead.

"Narida Memma," says Ranata formally, "I've brought a visitor who may interest you. Her name is Zeviana. While she's not a witch as we know witches, she has magic of her own from another world and is interested in affiliating with our clan."

"Really," says Narida Memma, pied water tyrant daemon perking up on her shoulder. "Why this one in particular?"

"Her brother is dating my daughter, Isabella Amariah."

"I met both Isabella Amariah and her mother, and I liked them both," says Zeviana - she's forgotten Ranata's second name, but she copes by avoiding it entirely. She's picked up on the formality of the event, and is rolling with it. "The ways of witches make sense to me - more so than - er, mortals. Since my brother's with Isabella Amariah and I already know two members of this clan - it seemed smart to ask for permission to affiliate with you."

Lecasryn shifts a little, then flies to the ground for daemon talking, apparently.

The pied water tyrant glides to a neat landing in front of Lecasryn and manages to look up at the much larger bird with one hundred percent of the haughtiness his witch is exuding.

"Your name?" he inquires.

Meanwhile, Narida Memma says, "Tell me more about your magic - and where it came from, if not a witch mother."

Lecasryn is not going to comment on the size difference. "I'm Lecasryn. It's an honor to meet you," she says carefully.

Zeviana has already agreed to spill the beans, so she gets to doing that. "My magic runs in families - I inherited it from my mother, coincidentally enough. Every millennium or so a new child with magic is born, and my mother was one. My magic itself is flexible, but with the downside that I can only use so much of it at once. If I use all of it, I die, if I get close to that I'm thrown into a painful state called mana deprivation. Personally, I have a talent for dealing with plants, though I can do some other things as well with preparation. If you'd like a demonstration, I wouldn't mind giving it."

The pied water tyrant inspects her. "Not separated, are you?"

Narida Memma listens with interest to this description. "This does not," she says, "sound like the kind of thing that might have been going on unnoticed on a remote Pacific island or somesuch."

"She's from another world," clarifies Ranata. "Isabella is already at work on the other - ramifications of its discovery."

"We are not, but we have plans to," says Lecasryn.

Zeviana nods. "To be more accurate - we're from another plane. Not another planet. It's further in the sense that I don't know of how anyone without my kind of magic, or without the help of someone with it, could travel to another one. My brother can, though, and found this plane. He liked it, invited me over, and here I am. It's not as casual as it sounds, but we're the two strongest mages of our time. We can do some things rather casually."

"Mortals making those plans often don't keep them," observes the little tyrant.

"What kind of affiliation did you have in mind?" the queen inquires.

Ranata almost speaks, but pauses in case Zeviana wants to answer instead.

"Our brother and his daemon have already separated - we're going to, but our plane doesn't have daemons. I did not exist until yesterday. We haven't had time to, but we will," says Lecasryn with resolution. "We are not exactly mortal. Not completely."

"Traveling through this plane pretending to be a mortal doesn't interest me much. My magic's different, but magic I am. I don't like being confined by country borders and governments - something witches ignore, as far as I can tell. I'd like to - put up a sort of front as a witch, so I can have more options, and avoid the annoyance of it all."

The pied bird hops back a few steps, looking roughly as disturbed as is possible with a bird face.

"No daemons," he mutters. "Well, apparently coming here has fixed you. Not mortal how?"

Meanwhile his witch says: "We do not completely ignore the government, but most of us can avoid it most of the time. What can your magic do to allow you to evince the usual trappings of witchhood? We won't readily be able to protect you from a border guard or tax collector if it's discovered you aren't one of us."

Lecasryn takes no offense. "Yes. We are likely to live for several hundred years - I believe the range is anywhere from four centuries to six or so. Unless killed, of course."

"I can fly for short distances to convince others I fly with a cloud pine, but also teleport to avoid border guards entirely. I don't know the ins and outs of your magic, but that seemed like the main one. To truly be able to play the part, I'd have to know what you're capable of and how you go about it - I've only been here for a day."

"Mmm. Close enough to us. How old are you now?" the little bird wants to know.

"Mmm," says the queen. "Perhaps Ranata Ekamma should give you a bit of a tour of our lands and we should reconvene later."

"My mage is twenty-one," says Lecasryn. "But I can't say I am the same age. She arrived yesterday, and I was born with that arrival."

"That would be fine with me. Would you like me to show proof of my magic? As a - show of good faith," says Zeviana carefully.