Welcome to the Otherworld

The next enchanter who interrupts my class with a view for interrogation will be leaving with a small but thorny plant attached to their backside. You have been duly warned. If I wished to confer with either of your organisations I would have done so by now.

Dear Tiny Menaces Living in My Home,

A list of important facts for you to remember:

1. Yes, the lights are out.
2. No, I do not know why they are out.
3. Yes, I am going to fix them.
4. No, I do not know how long it will take for me to do this.
5. Yes, you should shut up.
6. No, you cannot make a bonfire in the living room. I don't care if it's "contained."

Love,
Auntie Mo

P.S. - These rules will be posted on the fridge.
P.P.S. - If anyone needs me, I will be out by the fucking generator.

Newly-arrived fae are welcome at the Black Cat Cafe, and will be offered discounted or free meals until they have acclimated. If acclimation starts to look too much like freeloading, I'm going to start getting testy.

The cafe is also available as a meeting place if anybody wants to conduct negotiations for Bonds or trade. We're secure, discreet, and make a mean gingerbread.

People who trash my business will not be welcome back. Fair warning.

I, for one, am very curious about how this is going to effect the future of golfing at Fraserview.

I mean, we're running the risk of disappointing a whole bunch of really rich, really old dudes who can potentially fall into a hole in the universe at the 18th. And do we really want the fae's first exposure to modern sports to be golf?

Golf is horrible. And there isn't even a tiny windmill.


[Luis]

Find anything super hinky and weird on your class-delaying excursion, Mulder?

[Wasting no time, Liadine made friends with a couple young, eager Enchanters who introduced her to a computer at an internet cafe.]

I FOUND IT