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The Earthlings native and adopted stay in Marlatia, hiding uneventfully in the guest room, for several days. Isabella immortalizes king and queen both when they sneak her to a sufficiently large, empty, and unoccupied room to do it in. When Adarin has enough mana he makes mirror pairs for each of their majesties to contact their counterpart - Isabella's portal bag is kind of accumulating mirrors at this point. And when he has more mana still, Iobel finds a slightly-bigger-than-door-sized plank and a set of hinges and some screws and combines all these objects on the ceiling of a lockable room on the first floor but out of the way, currently serving as storage for a lot of broken musical instruments that someone once probably identified as probably repairable. This plank gets a portal on it, and the Earthlings go home.
After catching up on business - and allowing time to recover mana, again - and getting their Marlatian alts a laptop each, and putting a router and chargers within easy reach of the portal on their side, which is also on a sheet of wood but is kept in their basement propped up against a wall -
Isabella snuggles up to her husband and suggests searching the planes for more of themselves.
dark_light
prodigal_miser
Adarin informs both his sister and the other pair of them that they will be going on a trip to find an alt of him. Quietly, Edarial hopes that the alt is in a better situation than he is. This has the effect of earning another hug from his more emotionally stable alt.
Then, everything is in place, and whimsically, Adarin asks, "Do you think we should think of nicknames before we go? In case he has the same name?"
Then, everything is in place, and whimsically, Adarin asks, "Do you think we should think of nicknames before we go? In case he has the same name?"
dark_light
"Oh, that reminds me, I didn't want to say it when I first thought of it because Iobel and Edarial were being such pills but we could match, would that be cute? Ice and Cypress, for our crowns."
dark_light
Isabella double-checks the contents of her portal bag. "Standard herbs kit plus enough stuff for three resurrections, notebooks, food - Path can drop small stuff into the box if we get hungry but I think there's plenty considering I can always lure food animals the same way I do sacrifices - our ends of various mirror pairs, and some gummy worms and chocolates for your alt. And just barely enough rummaging room to grab any of the named things."
prodigal_miser
Adarin snickers. "Am I going to need to make another portal bag sometime in the future?"
prodigal_miser
"I'll add it to the list. Want to wait until after it's made to head out, or go now? I don't see us running out of stuff, but we can be paranoid."
prodigal_miser
Nod. "Alright then, let's go."
He gets the spell ready, mirrors his sister to inform her that they're going, and then -
- they are in a desert. There's no town or people in sight.
"... I realize now that I probably should have brought sunscreen," laments Adarin, glancing at the sun.
He gets the spell ready, mirrors his sister to inform her that they're going, and then -
- they are in a desert. There's no town or people in sight.
"... I realize now that I probably should have brought sunscreen," laments Adarin, glancing at the sun.
dark_light
"Oh dear. Do you want me to find a rock and see if I can reverse the light spell?" she asks. "I bet I can make a rock that sheds dark."
prodigal_miser
"Awww. Sure, that would help. I think I can also make a shield to protect against the sun, but that kind of destroys the purpose of conserving mana for portals and teleportation."
There are several! This is not the stereotypical 'dunes for ages' desert, there are rocks and outcroppings in the packed sand.
Then there is a voice. It's male, but it echoes from everywhere and nowhere, and noticeably in every language Isabella speaks fluently. All at once, but each language distinct. Somehow it's still perfectly understandable. "Who are you," says the voice, "and how did you appear in my holy land?"
Then there is a voice. It's male, but it echoes from everywhere and nowhere, and noticeably in every language Isabella speaks fluently. All at once, but each language distinct. Somehow it's still perfectly understandable. "Who are you," says the voice, "and how did you appear in my holy land?"
prodigal_miser
"... Okay the temples are making a whole lot more sense now," says Adarin, in a quiet, stunned voice.
dark_light
"We are peaceful travelers passing through by magic," says Isabella, with quick measured syllables, "I'm Isabella and this is Adarin. We will be happy to fly somewhere else if this particular location is no good."
"Magic? I have never heard of magic of this type," says the voice, confused. "... Ayabel, what has caused you to renounce Perinixu and change your name? Has she forsaken her ways?"
There's an extended pause from the owner of the voice.
"Perinixu is the goddess of the highland spring, an ally of mine. Ayabel is her acolyte. You - sound like her, but you are not. I see that now."
"Perinixu is the goddess of the highland spring, an ally of mine. Ayabel is her acolyte. You - sound like her, but you are not. I see that now."
"Perhaps. She has not been back for a time, since my -" There is a pause from the voice, and just a faint trace of sorrow. "Since an acolyte of mine passed from the mortal coil. I do not know where you would find her."
"She was seventy-eight, last I remember."
Then a man flies in - no cloud pine, just like the wind has picked him up and carried him here, and lands in front of Isabella. He is scruffy and windblown, but there is something a bit off about him. He peers at her, and tilts his head.
"... No. She looked different. Strange. You sound the same, even the texture of your words have the same - ideals and meanings."
Then a man flies in - no cloud pine, just like the wind has picked him up and carried him here, and lands in front of Isabella. He is scruffy and windblown, but there is something a bit off about him. He peers at her, and tilts his head.
"... No. She looked different. Strange. You sound the same, even the texture of your words have the same - ideals and meanings."