Wraithvine (and perhaps companions?) comes upon an inn near a foggy forest where a young knight and his half-wolf lady are struggling to return home. It seems that the hail from another world entirely, one with low and different sort of magic, which may make getting them home a real hassle... -- Anon Guest
[AN: Shoutout to Deathshead419, who I am certain gave me this prompt. I shall try my best with this one]
The thing about magic, the real thing about magic is... it sometimes does strange things. Seemingly for amusement. Sometimes, magic has its own will. And sometimes, bits of one world... drip... into another.
Witness an inn. An inn with no stable, nor courtyard, nor track or trail leading to its door. There is a candle burning by its door. A candle with no shelter from the weather. It doesn't need one. Currently, there is a young man in armour arguing with it while a partially lupine lady sniffed about the surrounding area with growing irritation.
"Stuck?" demanded the knight of the candle, "What do you mean stuck?" He paused, apparently watching it flicker. "Don't. Give me. The dictionary definition. I want to understand why you're stuck."
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