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.

"You'll want to be in the habit of answering for the pair of you, if you don't want awkward questions," says the pied water tyrant.

"Perhaps. What is it that you do with plants?" asks the queen.

"Of course," says Lecasryn. "But I do not want to deceive you."

"I can do any number of things - send away weeds for good, help certain plants grow faster, weave them together to make things, make them stronger against diseases and pests and such. Some of it can be done quickly, but if I really want it to stick I'd need a while - months, usually. But if there's a field or garden that's - I don't know, having trouble or not growing as well as you'd like, I can give it a boost, and that won't take long at all."

"Of course," says the pied water tyrant. He still hasn't introduced himself. "What are you?"

"The mint could use the weeding treatment. The adjacent rosemary, too, if that's easy enough," says Narida Memma. "How long will it take?"

Lecasryn doesn't know if it's rude or not for him to not introduce himself, so she's not going to poke. She's more interested in not screwing this up than knowing this daemon's name. "Some type of hawk - Castarilan believed I was some kind of harrier, but I don't know the specifics, yet. We haven't had time to look it up."

"An hour, or so? Maybe longer, if it's a large area or they're particularly intrusive."

"Do you have an idea why you suit her?" wonders the tyrant.

"Reasonably large. It's intended to serve the needs for those herbs for the whole clan. Ranata Ekamma can show you."

"Hmm," considers Lecasryn. "Flight feels right for me - one of the greatest things we hope to gain from separation is my flight unimpeded by a bond in our way. I feel strong, but I think that we wouldn't be able to respect anyone that isn't strong in some way. She doesn't abhor weakness, exactly, but she admires strength."

"Thank you. Would you like us to let you know when I'm done?"

"Mmm," says the tyrant enigmatically.

"And when you've toured the clan and learned about witches to your satisfaction," nods the queen.

"She admires witches so far," adds the harrier. "We think we would have been happier if we were born as one."

"Sure. Thank you for your hospitality," says Zeviana.

"Perhaps you will yet be able to capture some of that happiness," says the tyrant, and he flutters back to his witch.

"You're welcome," says the queen, and makes a gesture that Ranata seems to take as dismissal, setting her cloud-pine float again.

"So we hope," replies Lecasryn. Then she flies to her own mage.

Zeviana smiles a bit. She thinks that went well, but it's hard to tell.

"Yes!" says Zeviana triumphantly. "Good, I was on my best behavior and didn't swear even once."

Lecasryn makes a happy 'Caw' noise, and Zeviana pets her indulgently.