Into these she has Adarin place a portal set.
And then she mixes up a batch of suitably witchy ink that she'll be able to identify as authentic later, marks up a bunch of pieces of paper with it, and walks into: a bank.
Adarin's welcome to come along, if he likes...
Scry, scry, scry. Head tilt.
"They survive off of a mixture of light and nutrients from the ground, with some water but not very much. I think they're pretty brittle, if you touch them. It looks like there was some kind of giant volcanic activity centuries ago and it's left everything really, really fertile. Huh."
He snickers. "Possibly! At this rate we'll pick one of the boring ones and steal things we like from the others."
"Maybe we can find a mostly boring one with rings or aurorae or something, though." Note note.
After several more boring ones (one with rings, though that's its only distinguishing feature) they find something a bit more unique.
Most of the planet is in an ice age - there are some warmer parts near the equator, but for the most part, it's very obviously cold. It's not a barren tundra - it has hills, valleys, and frozen lakes, though it very obviously lacks a lot of plant life. It's only after the scry moves to give them a closer look that Adarin and Isabella can see a metallic sheen to the surface, buried under snow. Rocks, dirt, sand - they all the look of metal, even when dulled by erosion and buried under ice and snow.
"Well, that looks like the mining industry's weird Nyquil dreams. Doesn't look very habitable, though."
"Around the equator I think it might be, but for the most part - no. Weird Nyquil dreams?"
"I have never actually taken Nyquil, so I can't vouch, but my mom has a friend who says it gives her weird dreams. Nyquil is an over the counter drug," Isabella clarifies.
"Aha," he says, snickering. "I suppose starting a 'weird Nyquil dreams' based mining company is another option for making ludicrous amounts of money if portal-transportation dries up."
"We are not short on opportunities to make ludicrous amounts of money, certainly." Note note note.
Scry, scry, scry - more boring ones, though one of them has ground that's a strange shade of pink. Predictably, they find another that's a bit more interesting.
Its sun is huge, and it utterly dominates the sky. A smattering of clouds barely softens its light - but the local fauna manages a bit better. Floating on the wind are light, feathery plants, absolutely everywhere. They come in multiple colors and sizes, though none are bigger than a half a foot. Water's clearly present in the form of lakes and rivers - several of the floating plants get caught in its depths, and upon investigation, sink to the bottom, take root, and form something that looks kind of like a water-lily. Still bodies of water all across the world are dotted with them.
"Well, this might work if we set up some kind of netting around any settlement, but can you imagine trying to leave your house and breathe at the same time even if you didn't have hay fever? Wow."
Adarin laughs. "You'd open the door, then bam, face full of - whatever those are. It's pretty, though."
"I would have a ton of trouble waking up in the morning. If we pick this planet, everyone will need to invest in thick curtains. For the plants, and for the sun."
"I think the best option we've seen so far is the one with the earthquakes. California has taught Earthlings much about earthquake-safe construction, and there might be relatively stable parts anyway. I don't suppose you can make actually floating cities?"
Pause. He tilts his head. "Hmm... maybe? I mean, it would be kind of a headache, but... I can make something way lighter than it should be. So I could make a rock or something be as light as, say, helium, and then it's just - like a blimp, but made out of rock."
"Blimps have to be huge to carry relatively small amounts of stuff. Does this get harder in quantity?"
"Kind of. I'd probably need a while to get everything, but there's nothing stopping me from doing part of it one day and then part of it another. Or having lots of smaller parts that float and connect to each other through bridges or something."
"Yeah, small parts sound good. Like midair houseboats. Things can be built piecemeal on the ground on - I'm not sure what material would be best for small neighborhood sized floaters but we can hire somebody to figure it out - so if a quake hits it's relatively low stakes, and floated when ready. And they can rearrange the bits if that's ever a good idea. And if everything's up high enough they won't shadow the underlying farmland with the imported topsoil and water too much."
Adarin nods, grinning. "Yeah. I worry about anyone falling off, but we can put up fences and such to prevent that kind of thing. But this is interesting, and useful."
"Fences, yes, obviously. I don't know, maybe it's structurally impossible to make a contiguous object that will support one house, let alone a handful, without collapsing - let's not commit to a planet yet. It might be easier to surround a city with a net to hedge out the floaty plants or a wall to keep out the giant bugs. Either one is a lesser challenge than a dome city on Mars, at any rate."
"Certainly. Boring lifeless planets also remain an option, but even the problems those bring are better than Mars. I'm sorry, Isabella, but it seems like colonizing Mars is no longer viable."