"Okay I'm sorry but I think if there's ever a time for something like this, "right after your boss's carposting got you both killed" has got to be one of the best options."

"I WAS NOT CARPOSTING!" This time she can't help but laugh, though.

Sitting on the floor with her back against the locked bathroom door, Thirel closes her eyes and shapes delirious spiral patterns in her mind, simple and then more complex - 

- and her body is still there, but she's somewhere else.

Copying Archive items without a scaffolding or any kind of workshop or laboratory is deeply inconvenient, but there are reasons why Thirel was found, chosen, and taken from her family at nine years old, to serve an empire she never chose. And there are reasons why she survived it, too, and survived escaping it. 

She forms the deep-engrained patterns in her mind, guides and shapes the magic, and within five minutes she's opening her eyes in the physical world again, and - for lack of any better surface to work on - the information contained in the Archive map is etched in scorched lines on the fabric wrapping that used to house her artifact-crystal. 

She gets up, unbolts the door and steps out and crosses the hall back to the bedroom, and offers her makeshift map-copy without saying a word. 

Um. Not good.

Oh dear.

"So, um, As-You-See-Me -- this isn't what our world looks like."

Thirel gives her a blank look, very briefly, until she processes the content and has more important things to be confused about. 

"I don't know what you mean. Are you - used to a different map projection -"

It's not that, she already knows it's not that even as she's saying the words, but she doesn't know what else to think. There may be other worlds, some scholars think so, but they would be ever so far away, unreachable even with all the magic of the Glorious Future, and it's hardly as though you could get here from there by accident and then be confused about it. Which these poor children - she's not sure when she started thinking of them as 'poor children' but it seems she is now - certainly are...

"No uh here our continents are different, it looks like this..." she rummages around her pockets briefly.

"Ava do you have a pen?"

Ava begins patting her own pockets. Suddenly, she slaps herself in the forehead.

"No pen, but look! Phone!" 

"...and it's dead. Ugh. Of course. Cori, do you have your --"

"No it was in the car, I'd have already tried."

"As-You-See-Me, do you have a pen?"

"Yes, but nothing else to write on." It's not as though much writing happens outside of the Sideworlds, nowadays. She digs it out and offers it to the woman anyway. 

(It's neither a ballpoint nor a fountain nor any other recognizable design of pen; it's very light, apparently made of a bamboo-like substance, and has a soft bifurcated foam-like tip that does not, from this angle, visibly contain ink.) 

"Thanks!" Coriander takes the pen, cheerfully turns to the nearest wall, and starts drawing on it.

On the one hand, that's the wall of her new apartment. On the other hand, it's not as though she was offering any better options. Thirel sighs inaudibly, clasps her hands behind her back, and watches. 

Even allowing for the woman being appallingly bad at drawing, she doesn't recognize the shape of the continents starting to take form. 

She doesn't know what to say, so she doesn't say anything. 

"Tada!"

"Cori, uh, that's not..." She trails off. Honestly, it doesn't really matter that Cori seems to have drawn a world map that lacks multiple continents, even with only this it's pretty clear things are different.