"The cat is her familiar, and having him allows her to cast spells."
"Interesting." Pause. "It's non-transferable, isn't it. No trips to the pet shop for an extra set of magic?"
"No, you need a spirit animal for it. Only people from the plane have one."
"I wish I could say I was surprised, but." He looks up in a skyward direction. "No, universe, you'll not drive me to drinking. Console yourself somehow, this behavior is getting embarrassing."
"We may yet find transferable magic," says Isabella encouragingly. "I mean, I guess Pantheon magic is transferable. Just not horizontally, you have to get gods to like you."
"For me, not long, but I was resurrecting their deceased acolytes."
"Then maybe I can placate them with a large showy display of magic."
"Well, you can introduce yourself, at any rate, once you make us a portal back to the mountain Spring is living on now."
"Certainly. Speaking of which -" He finishes the last of his meal. "- everything's taken care of. To sleep, then?"
He gets up to go there! Presumably Isabella and Cypress will follow.
He is, but he is going to supervise anyway. Because, wife. With an alt that killed him. It's an absurd thing to worry about, considering that Prime's an alt of himself and the entire affair was an accident, but. Wife.
"Is the sleep instant, or can I ask you to spell me here and I crawl into bed by my own power?"
The room itself is nice, and well kept, though it looks like recently things have become rather messy - papers left on the desk when they could be neatly stacked, books not returned to the nearby bookshelf, that sort of thing. It's still nice, and there are curious and obviously magical things just - around.
Prime takes off his shoes and sits on the bed. "All right, ready."
Isabella recites the poem. This one rhymes and she actually learned it to a tune, as a lullaby, so bits of singsong creep into the casting.
And then, flop. He's out like a light.
"Well. At least I'm not in danger of being boring when I'm five hundred."