A few months after the business with the chalice, Annie (with a gold engagement stud in one earlobe, now receiving mail at Aldaras's apartment, and thoroughly comfortable with Being Necklaced, to the point where she's helping mold the thing towards more exacting standards for real-world-practical as well as theoretical compatibility) is in bed with some unidentified sort of head cold or flu. Aldaras doesn't have it so far, so she is snuggled under the covers while he makes her spicy soup to help clear her sinuses and because she's having a little trouble with non-liquids. He's worried, she's mostly just groggy. Zzzz.
But he distracts himself from this feeling by systematically relieving peppers of their seeds. Because there is really nothing else to do.
Why is there a mirror wrapped in a piece of paper in her bed?
Well, she knows better than to touch it. She wraps the edge of her comforter around her hand and unwraps the paper.
Hello,
It turns out that the distance you can travel to is quite a bit larger than something like, 'the observable universe,' especially if you use magic. It turns out there are lots of alternate versions of you, and they've teamed up with alternates of another set of people to start a delightful little club that is, in their words, 'A plague of utopias.' Also quite a lot of sharing of magic and resources. Some names are repeated, so we go by a system of nicknames - you are likely to need one, just in case your name is repeated later, even if it is unique now.
You can contact us with the mirror, provided. Instructions on its use are on the back. It's very magic, but also quite safe. We're waiting for your reply through it.
Signed,
(illegible to Annie), 'Prime'
She keeps the comforter over her hand when she turns the paper over, and when she activates the mirror, blearily puzzled.
"Hello," says older gentleman from the other side of the mirror, speaking carefully and sounding quite foreign. "That didn't take long. I'm the one who wrote the letter." He waves.
"...Hi," says Annie stuffily. "I'b Annie. Id dat taked?"
"One of the Bells - you're a Bell, she's another one of you - has the ability to cure sicknesses. I can explain things to you first, or we can pop over there now and simply cure you?"
"Oh, dad'd be good, he's all worried ad I'b dired. Hee, Bells."
And shortly, there is Prime, with Spring, in Annie's room.
"Hi, Annie," says Spring, who has picked up the language from supervising Prime's call. "All I have do to heal you is touch you, okay?"
"Souds good. Wad's the side effegt?" wonders Annie, closing her eyes as Spring reaches out to lay her hand on Annie's face.
"... That is not a word choice I associate with, 'oh, yes, everything is going fantastically here and there have been no strange mixtures of magic at all,'" states Prime. "What happened?"
"Um, here, magic has side effects, and you get the main effect and the side effect if you touch a magic thing. Uh, now you're immune to - other mind affecting-magic? Yay?"
"She, uh, wouldn't have even noticed if it weren't already in effect... Um. It. Does a falling-in-love thing."
"... Of course it does," sighs Prime. "Why would it do anything else. Spring, is it the obvious?"
"Right then. I'm just going to guess that there is, of course, zero way to reverse the effects. Am I wrong?"