...And she lands in a heap, half on what seems to be gravel and half on grass, under bright morning sun. 

Nearby, someone yelps, and the air crackles. "Ack – what – where did you come from?" 

There's a very alarmed-looking boy dressed completely in white with a vaguely medieval-looking style tunic, standing on the gravel path, staring at her, hands raised and shedding sparks. He looks about eighteen, except that his black hair is occasionally threaded with white. 

I'm sorry, it was an accident.

"That doesn't explain anything, how did you get here, you weren't – you came out of nowhere and I'm sure that wasn't a Gate–" He cuts off, staring at her even harder. "...That wasn't Mindspeech. What are you?" He's starting to look more curious than alarmed, though. 

Please just - can I have a minute to catch my breath - I'm not here to do anything to you or anything.

He takes a few steps back. "Oh, um, sorry, of course." And then he hovers silently, looking like someone trying not to obviously stare or otherwise be obtrusive in any way, and mostly failing. 

She takes a few deep breaths.

She brushes herself off, sits up and hugs her knees and rubs at one eye. She's wearing weirdly pretty ivory robes with red and pale yellow embroidery all over them, and a lot of jewelry. Her hair's divided with alarming precision into four sections and braided to her scalp, and all four braids twist into a bun at the nape of her neck.

Sorry, what were your questions again?

Unfortunately he’s already half-forgotten, too busy staring at the strange woman who just appeared from nowhere and without any sign from his Othersenses, not that he was paying much attention.

”Er, how you got here and where from,” he says with strained poise. “And how you’re talking to me.” He’s peering at her robes. “You don’t look like you’re from here - are you a Sunpriest, er, Sunpriestess, I thought that wasn’t allowed...” He trails off awkwardly. 

I don't know what a sunpriest is. I got here in a magical accident. I'm talking to you with subtle arts but I'm not reading anything but what you're saying.

"Magical accident – are you a mage?" It would be rude to probe to check. "Where are you from? Also, er, what's your name? I'm Vanyel." 

(Behind him, a large white horse with somewhat alarmingly large and front-facing blue eyes canters up. Vanyel reaches back without looking and rests a hand on the horse's mane.) 

Someone else was doing the magic. Uh, I'm from a country called the Magisterian Imperium but it doesn't seem likely you've heard of it, and my name is Bella.

Vanyel shuffles his feet awkwardly for a minute. He hasn't, in fact, heard of the Magisterian Imperium. "I, um, need to be somewhere," he says finally, "I'm running late, but – do you need help getting home or something?" He doesn't want to just leave her here.

I can't go home. Uh, if you want to - direct me someplace I can sell some of the jewelry I can get a room and figure things out from there I guess.

He stares at her with consternation. There's probably some sort of protocol for this. "I, er, I'm sorry about that. If you come with me I can ask my friend Tran?" Even if there isn't a protocol, he feels bad about making someone who just got stranded in a magical accident sell their own jewelry to get a place to stay. 

Sure. Thank you. She gets up, seems to expect to fall, doesn't, makes a small thoughtful exhalation through her nose about that.

Vanyel leads her down the path, past some decorative gardens in planters, and up to a very old-looking stone building. The white mare trails a few steps behind, occasionally aiming looks at her, and then parts ways with them when they head inside. 

A man in his twenties, dark hair pulled into a bun at the nape of his neck and also wearing all-white, is standing outside an open doorway. 

"Tran!" Vanyel calls out. "Sorry I'm late. I have a question, um, I ran into Bella here on the path, she said she got here in some kind of spell-accident and can't go home." Then his eyes go slightly out of focus, and the other man's do as well. "Can we get her a guest-room in the Palace or something?" he adds. 

The other man frowns for a minute. "Probably?" He turns to her and smiles, reassuringly. "Miss, if you don't mind waiting here until... Never mind, Taver says Lancir's in meetings until tonight but that we can sort something out in the meantime. It'd be simpler if you can sit in here with us for about half a candlemark, though, so we can hit the relay first." 

I don't mind waiting.

Vanyel pulls out a chair for her, and then he and the other man sit down at the oak table (which looks handmade), and they both close their eyes, look very focused, and go silent. 

She waits in silence for a bit. Eventually looks at her watch, goes "huh" very softly, and then looks around for objects more interesting than her own accessories to practice telekinesis with.

The room contains two more unused chairs around the table, a bookcase with some leather-bound books on it and an inkwell on top, an end table with some empty teacups and saucers on it, and a tiny potted plant on the windowsill. 

Oh well. She takes off a couple rings and practices; when the locals open their eyes she'll be making them spin around each other in midair at high speed.

The two of them go on for about half an hour, not speaking at all (at least not out loud), though occasionally one of them flips a page in the book open in front of them. 

Vanyel is the first one to turn around. "...Oh! Do you have Fetching?" 

The rings halt. I have subtle arts and telekinesis is a thing I can do with it. They slide back onto her hands. I don't know how much that's like what you're referring to.

"The same power you use for, um, not-Mindspeech – the way you're talking to me? I don't think that sounds like anything I've heard of."