"They're like cats!" Roswita shouts, waving her arms out the window of the briefing room in the general direction of the battlefields of Sylvania. "Every day, someone with fire instead of hair or surrounded by birds or a skull instead of a face wanders in and drops off a Vampire skull or the head of some forest mutant or a cartload of bones and I say thank you and they act like I've thrown a party and named my firstborn after them, and they go off to find something even worse to drag back! Look what they did to my table!"
You consider the small sapling protruding from the wood of the table, its small green leaves stretching towards the window. "I see."
"One of them walked off with my wall sconce stuck to her, I had to send a footman after her to get it back! She didn't even notice! Another made all the candles flare up, and one set fire to the curtains! One of them I had to tell only visit in the morning, because if he comes too late in the evening all the staff start nodding off!"
"It..." You search for words. "Could be worse?"
"I was expecting, I don't know, fire, floods, plague, having to repopulate Sylvania from scratch. Not this... weirdness! Part of Tempelhof got destroyed, and some of them rebuilt it, but refused to rebuild the roofs because 'why would they want the stars obstructed?' and they had to be led away to go bother the Strigoi."