He wasn't in this position because he'd decided to be a hero. Nothing so fancy as that. He wasn't even here because of his lineage. No, Morrison Falconer had ended up in this stupid accident because of the one inevitability of the universe: sheer, dumb luck. One minute he's on his way home from the office, briefcase in hand; the next, he's caught up in a screaming crowd, with smoke pouring out the doors of what used to be the bank on the corner. The moment after that, there's another bang, another puff of smoke, a rumbling like the entire earth is shifting on its axis, and the next he's staggering out of the cloud...and into a forest where his city used to be.

He's a practical man. He knows that. Not a hero worshipper, not a villain groupie, just a firm believer in order and the system the unions have established. It's order, and fairness. Still, in that moment, he wishes he'd voted for that last bill regulating the usage of portal technology. If he had, maybe he wouldn't be one dumb accountant, standing in the middle of what looks like primordial forest in a mussed business suit holding a leather briefcase. Setting down his now-useless briefcase, he removes his glasses, pulling a mostly-clean cloth from his pocket and trying to remove most of the smoke and ash from his glasses as he looks around.

"Fucking wizards."

The forest is easy to navigate, when you've spent most of your life in it. It takes the span of a few minutes - perhaps ten - for Kandara to find her way from the water to the deepest parts, where the trees are thick and surrounding everything, curved and twisted with age. She doesn't attempt to search the forest for anything, doesn't expect anything new in a day that has - so far - been mostly easy with the haze of late summer and the spells of water nymphs.

It is, then, understandable that - when Kandara rounds the trunk of a particularly thick, tall tree, she starts at the sight of a man - a human man, like herself rather than the magical creatures who populate this place she calls home - in clothes that are entirely unfamiliar to her. (The forest creatures rarely wear anything but plants as adornments, and while she wears sensible hide trousers and a looser, green top provided by her father, the only other form of clothes she knows are her father's priestly robes).

She stands there, silent, stunned, for a good second longer than she should, before finally smiling. "Welcome. Have you come here with purpose?" And if so, which purpose? She will gladly be friendly until given cause not to be, if she is given reason to consider you a threat to the forest, stranger.

The appearance of someone who at least looks human is simultaneously anxiety-inducing and a relief. If this is Earth but a different time point, he could be destroying history right now. If it's an alternate dimension, there's no telling if he'll ever find his way back through the multiverse, and if it's an alien planet...

Of course, he'll have to start by communicating, eventually, and not just staring like a ninny. Or gaping, rather, since his mouth is hanging open. Snapping his jaw closed, Morrison slides his glasses into his jacket pocket and tries for a reassuring smile that comes out sheepish and awkward instead. At least she speaks English, or the error that sent him here gave him whatever passes for a common tongue.

"Actually, I've been sent here accidentally. Tell me, is there a...a local shaman, or wise man? Anyone who...who has dealings with the natural forces of the world." The words come out stilted and stupid as he tries to remember the phrases in the emergency handbook. Crap. Was he or wasn't he supposed to use the word magic? He can't remember, and these vaguely grandiose phrases are killing him.

Roundabout, but thankfully, understandable. Kandara holds herself just a bit too steady, a bit too still, in thought. Still like the water when it rests, her hands pressed together in front of her; a centre, a point of focus for her.

(It is, after all, not every day that a stranger drops into your forest, the first human you've seen outside of your own father and illustrations in books. It takes years of lessons, of everything she uses to not be the same impulsive fool as her father, to keep herself looking the picture of someone who patrols, tries to protect this forest.)

"Ah. I-" She's no shaman, or wise man. Nowhere near as wizened as the kind of people those words conjure up, but. Perhaps she's the closest thing. "I may be able to help. My name is Kandara, and I am a sorceress."

A lot more than that, thanks to her father's meddling, but that is the shortest explanation.