Sigyn, are you all right?
My magic performed flawlessly in that it carried us well away from the all my least favorite relatives and nemeses, but I’m not sure where Sigyn and I have ended up.
Looking around, I don’t see any buildings or recognizable landmarks. Sigyn, can you see anything?
We seem to have landed in a desolate, barren wasteland. Nothing for it but to walk until we find some shelter or someone who can tell us where we are.
Dirt, rocks, dirt, rocks, more dirt, more rocks. Sigyn is oohing and ahhing at the one tiny bit of green vegetation in sight. I don’t want to dampen her enthusiasm, but if we don’t find some shelter and something to eat and drink, we may not last very long out here.
(later) Well, the the terrain has changed. There is now some sparse grass, and we have just stumbled upon this strange, fluted tree.
(poke, poke, poke.) I had the idea of tapping it in the hopes of getting a little water, but all I got was a little bitter white fluid.
The terrain has changed again. We have come upon a dry forest full of small, prickly trees. They look… familiar.
Oh, by Heimdall’s pointy helmet and Odin’s crappy depth perception, I think I know where we are. I think my magic teleported us to the same treacherous, insane universe Sigyn and I ended up in after our disastrous first date four years ago.
I’m sorry, love. But we made it out of here last time, and we’ll make it home again this time. I promise.
Now, do you want to sleep in a tree or nestle down here on the forest floor?
to be continued…