Scanning the various outdoor sitting areas nearby, Christina was able to spot a couple of girls with their backs turned, chatting away at a table. That might be a halfway-decent opportunity to overhear something useful - or at the very least, she could listen in and find out if they were the boiling-human-girls-alive-in-cauldrons sort of teenage witches, or the subject-of-a-syndicated-90-minute-tv-show-in-the-late-90s type of teenage witches. Exactly what variety of adolescent spellcaster she was dealing with would, after all, have a vast impact on exactly how she approached her predicament.
There seemed to be nobody else currently outside, at least in this area, as she crept over to where the girls were sitting. At least, not that she could see - the possibility of invisible hall monitors or something to that effect was something she tried to put out of her mind. Instead, she focused on the name of the place - St. Chariot's. Christina was sure she'd read that somewhere before... maybe somewhere on CYOC? But what chapter, what had it been about? She quietly hoped that a bit of eavesdropping might help reveal a bit more about exactly what this place was... and what it's gimmmick was. Because there was always a gimmick.
Unnoticed by the two girls, she was able to slide over to a nearby bench, peeking over to get a look at them. One was your standard blonde, short hair, a bit giggly; her friend had a dyed-blue set of locks trailing down their back, her own demeanor a bit more subdued. They were both oddly cute, she couldn't help but think... why the hell was her mind going straight to lewd places? She liked girls, sure, she loved butts and boobs and thighs and pussy as much as the next bi girl. But for some reason, she found her focus being drawn to dirty ideas much faster than they normally would be.
Their conversation didn't exactly help matters. "For real! She has four tails, and four arms, and for hours, and four..." The blonde moaned, making a motion towards her chest. "And they're all so huge!"
Her blue-haired friend slurped loudly on a soda. "Like, how huge?"
"You remember when we had that mermaid pandemic, and everybody got big tits for a while?" Hang on. That was familiar too. Christina had seen that randomly mentioned in a couple chapters she'd glanced over, coming completely out of nowhere. Was that...
"Yeah, why?"
"Because the boobage from that has nothing on her racks."
"Hot." No it wasn't. Not it fucking was not at all. Boobage? Really? That wasn't even a word, and the internet was never going to make it a word. As much as she was rolling her eyes, though, the mention of tails and arms and horns got the gears moving in her head. She thought back to the words she'd read about being in stories... and a piece finally fell into place. St. Chariot's, that was from a branch she'd kind of stopped reading and never gotten around to getting through the rest of. A school full of teenage witches who'd be stuck changed for the semester if they got transformed, in an attempt to ensure transformational Mutually Assured Destruction by the priciiple.
She... she was here, in that story. But it got worse. Much, much worse. Because her mind started to go over other details about her current situation. The random girls gushing over some other apparently important girl. The mentions of huge bazongas, multiple sets of them even. Mermaids imporbably getting crammed in somewhere. References to other events and stories that probably made no sense of you were experiencing this story in a vacuum. The thick aura of lesbianism and complete lack of phallic imagery anywhere nearby. The run-on paragraphs in which it felt like someone was running through a whole bunch of previously-acknwoledged facts as if she didn't always trust the audience to have been paying attention, even though she herself had serious attention issues. The fucking sentence fragments everywhere.
It all clicked into place with a tremendous groan from Christina as she slid down in her seating. "Son of a bitch, I'm in a RainingJustice chapter."