Xaviers!

Samantha steps into the shared room the mirror resides in, looking like she's been in a knock-down, drag-out fight. Which, frankly, she has.

Shadowing her is Ryn, eyeing her surroundings warily. She's not particularly suspicious at this point, but she just naturally comes off that way a lot of times. Especially after the last building she stepped into here turned out to be some kind of human-wrought nightmare. When she spots the large mirror turning out to be, well, a mirror she almost looks relieved.

Miriam is sitting on the couch, putting down a book when Sam comes in. Sam looking like she's been in a fight isn't that unusual but normally she cleans up after a round in the Danger Room. And following behind her is someone who brings to mind a feral cat, equally scuffed up.

"Who's the stray that followed you home?" she quirks an eyebrow at the two, earning her a cold stare from behind a pair of sunglasses.

"Otherworldly tourist. Not my fault, this time. This is Ryn."

"Ryn, this is my girlfriend Miriam. She doesn't bite all that much anymore."

Ryn stares at the woman. She's tainted, that much she can smell from here but not fully rot. It's more a lingering stench, really. Like she's shaken a blight from her soul before it consumed her fully. Between this and Samantha's bridging of mortal and divine this world holds a lot of things Ryn would have thought impossible or at least unlikely to the extreme.

"I do." she says by way of introduction.

"Incredible." Miriam deadpans and seamlessly transitions into a slight smirk. "She might have followed you home, but we can't keep her."

"She got the tour of all the headmistress' toys and wasn't coping well. Now she wants to know how to be fashionable."

"So naturally, I went to the source."

"Flattery will get you far." she smiles and eyes Ryn. "And I can see why she needs the help. So what's the story here. She from a world where fashion doesn't exist?" she asks, getting up from the couch.

"She's unused to wanting to impress pretty girls, but finds herself in that situation."

"We can certainly do something about that. Can't do any worse than whatever this is."

"Not particularly tall but the dark and handsome parts are there. And intense. Maybe lose the sun-glasses indoors look."

"No." Ryn simply says and somehow manages to put utter certainty into that one syllable.

"She's got... well, a whole situation going on behind those."

"Okay, guess we'll work around those then. Any other limitations I should know about? Are you allergic to colors or high heels?" she rolls her eyes as she walks over to the mirror and taps a fingernail against it's surface.

"Wakey-wakey, we have a wardrobe emergency."

The mirror was ornate and fancy in ways that wouldn't bother Ryn at all; what would she know about furniture styles available to college students in the distant future? Maybe everyone had intricately hand-carved wooden-framed mirrors; she had a sample size of one to work from, after all.

The reflection of the mirror, however, was strange. While she saw herself, and the Morrigan, and the stench-of-death woman, the color palette was wrong -- green hair and green eyes on the trio, despite otherwise accurately reflecting the world around them.

As Miriam tapped the mirror, the surface of it rippled like a pond, and a head pushed it's way out, the silver of the mirror sliding off of it like quicksilver. And, unlike most of the strange world she found herself in, the face was familiar to her.

"Well, we can't be having that now, can we?" Will smiled.

"Wyldclay!" Ryn growls. She should have known. They'd had that strange rectangle on their desk. They probably tracked the strange items to their source and wriggled through to here and hidden their spawning grounds.

"What are you doing here!?" she demands and in the blink of an eye she has zig-zagged around Samantha and Miriam to come up in front of Will and seize him by the throat.

Sam's hair washes to black, and she fixes Ryn with a determination that wasn't there before.

"...Kindly One, you are going to let go of my friend, or you and I are about to have problems."

Every word was dripping with the weight of the Phantom Queen's attention.

Will was making some very interesting choking sounds as Ryn's grip wrapped around (and a little bit into) their throat.

"G'd m'rning t' y too..." they manage to gasp out between gargles.

"It's the Wyldclay. They're not supposed to be here." Ryn snarls and her grip relaxes not one bit and she pulls Wyll along and turns to put him between Sam and herself. At least Ryn is short enough that this doesn't really keep Will in the air even without any shapeshifting to accommodate. "When did they come here?"

"You're late by a few thousand years."

"But I don't look a day over 347," Will managed to choke out.

"What's a 'Wyldclay'?" they asked.

Ryn would note that this...this thing wasn't fighting back in the same way Wyll might. That, of course, meant nothing in and of itself. Tricksters be tricky.

Ryn narrows her eyes at Will.

"Swear it. Swear you are not Wyll Wyldclay, Fae Trickster whom I owe a favor."

"I think the ladies can vouch for my clay being excessively tamed," Will tried to joke.

"'M Will Stanton. X-Man, baker, fashionable neckwear. And you're the latest immigrant from Where the Wild Things Are, then?" he said, glancing back at Sam with a 'TF?' expression.

"Swear. It." Ryn growls and shakes Will a little.

"She's from another world. One there's apparently someone very like you on."

Ryn wrote:"Swear. It." Ryn growls and shakes Will a little.

"I swear! I swear!" Will said, throwing their hands up in surrender.

Ryn somewhat reluctantly lets go of Will, looking at her hand as if she's expecting bits of Will to have stuck to it. They're so similar, down to the vaguely clay-like consistency in her grip.

"I... mistook you for someone else." she says, which as far as apologies go is severely lacking.

"That's happened a lot recently," Will said, trying to smile this one off. "Just have one of those faces, I suppose."

Indeed, there was a little clay underneath Ryn's fingernails as she lets go of their neck.

"This how you usually behave when you're a guest?"

Her hair is still dark, her gaze not leaving Ryn as she arches a brow.

"I've never been a guest." she notes. It's hard to tell but she might be the tiniest bit contrite. If she is she's terrible at showing it.

"But you're old enough to know what the Morrigan thinks of the rules of hospitality."

"I'm old enough not to care." she says defiantly.

"You sure know how to pick them. Where did you say you found her again?" Miriam says, clearly more amused than upset by this, rude as it may have been.

"...out of a hole at the bottom of the sea," she sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Well, I can see she needs all the help she can get to plaster over that sparkling personality."

"...With a frog on a bump on a branch on a log?" Will said, disbelievingly.

"There were no frogs or logs. Only a swirling maelstrom connected to this world."

"I was being literal, you see."

"Well, it's not the weirdest way someone's shown up, I suppose," Will shrugged. "Nor the first time someone's decided I'd make a great punching bag."

"You're very much like someone I know. Someone who enjoys causing problems. I... am sorry." she mumbles through gritted teeth. Humans and their stupid rules and stupid Morrigans agreeing with them. But she did ask them for help with something important, so she manages to swallow her annoyance just enough to force out an apology.

"Well," Will said, awkwardly. "I'm here to solve problems, not cause them...So, uh, I apologize for whatever it is my doppleganger is doing?"