Location: Coastline. Confirmed. Still. The damp has officially permeated everything I own that isn't specifically warded against it. Which brings me to today's thrilling agenda item.
Remember that wave that decided my window was merely a suggestion yesterday? Left myself a mental note (scribbled it on the back of a discarded potion label, actually) to check the damn coastal wards. Because while the house shifting locations is one kind of chaos, having the current location actively try to invade via poorly maintained magical boundaries is another, wetter, significantly more annoying kind. Especially when it involves seawater shorting out your enchanted kettle.
So, ward inspection it is. Not glamorous. Mostly involves trudging around the perimeter, poking at energy fields, making sure the anchor sigils haven't eroded (salt air is a bitch to magical integrity), and generally ensuring the subtle shimmering shield between 'cozy inside' and 'various forms of outside attempting entry' is, in fact, still shimmering. And shielding.
Started with the offending window frame. Ran a diagnostic tendril of magic along the ward lines. Hmm. Faint energy fluctuation near the lower left corner. Not a failure, exactly, more like a… magical equivalent of a loose seam? A slight thinning in the weave. Probably where yesterday’s over-enthusiastic wave found purchase. Needs reinforcement – basically patching the magical drywall. Joy. Means hauling out the Resonance Binder and the Good Warding Chalk.
The Hair, for once, wasn't actively 'helping' with the diagnosis. It seemed preoccupied, actually. Most of it was pooled near the (now firmly closed) window, ends pressed against the glass, seemingly fascinated by the rhythmic crashing of waves outside. Or possibly contemplating the sheer audacity of the seagulls. With the hair, discerning complex motives is usually a waste of time; ninety percent of its actions fall under 'bored', 'mischievous', or 'inexplicable gravitational pull towards potential disaster'. Let it watch the damn ocean. Fine by me. Less chance of it trying to 'improve' the ward sigils with artistic swirls or braiding itself into the Resonance Binder.
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Reinforced the weak spot. Took about twenty minutes, mostly finding the right resonance frequency to match the existing ward structure without causing the whole thing to unravel like cheap knitting. Checked the rest of the house perimeter. Mostly stable, though the seaward side definitely needs a full overhaul if we end up staying here much longer. Which, knowing my luck and the house's contrary nature, means we'll probably relocate to a volcano tomorrow just to spite me.
Right. Wards checked, patch holding. House is marginally less likely to be impromptu submarine tonight. Now, what trivial, frustrating task is next on the list? Oh yes. Trying to find where the Hair hid the Good Warding Chalk after I finished using it.
Never a dull fucking moment.
Update: Scratch That Entire Fucking Morning.
Location: Floating island. Middle of nowhere-air. Just big enough for the house and the now gravitationally-challenged garden boxes.
Called it. Of course, the house moved right after I finished reinforcing the fucking coastal wards. Excellent timing, you sentient pile of timber and spite. Just brilliant.
The view is probably spectacular. Don't care. Currently more concerned about the distinct lack of ground beneath the front step and whether the Hair will mistake clouds for cotton candy again.
Right then. Sky-wards it is, I suppose. Assuming I can find that chalk.
Deep breaths, Rachel. Just another dimensionally-unstable day...
