On a soggy summer afternoon in Albion, two Brownies take shelter from the rain under a medium-sized shrubbery on the bank of a brook...

S: "'lo Fetch."
F: "Sam."
S: "Skipping the alchemy practical?"
F: "Ach, feckit. Knew I was meant to be somewhere else. Never mind."
S: "I'm sure someone will let you crib. Maybe that gnome will lend you his gnotes. The one who's been following you round all semester. What's his name? Grits? Flinty?"
F: "Whatever. Hey Sam, you booked any beamtime on the 'henge lately? I tried to summon the admin sprite three times, but got nothing."
S: "Hah, haven't you heard? It's still closed after May Ball."
F: "Still? I figured it'd be open again now. All they have to do is hose it down, right?"
S: "Oh, well yeah, normally, but it's not just closed. It's gone."
F: "Err, gone? You telling me someone moved twenty-five tons of tor?"
S: "Well, I'm not saying they did, but you try walking to it and tell me what happens. My roommate says you just end up on the other side of the hill before you even know it."
F: "And I guess there's no clue when they're going to get it sorted?"
S: "No chance. The faculty are losing their shit about it. Unseelie Vee finally gets a chance to hold a big event and as usual, goes too far and loses the first shared piece of equipment the colleges group-funded in the last three decades. Plus, you know, it's the May-freaking-Ball; hence the flyer from the archdruid confirming that the 'sacrifice was completed and fertility is assured' and all that."
F: "Another day, another flyer. What am I going to do about this beamtime then? I've got to submit soon if I want to be out of here by the Teind."
S: "What do you need?"
F: "Moon."
S: "UTT have their own. You could try there?"
F: "Ugh, no way. Tylweth Teg's doesn't have the lumens. I'll have to recalibrate my familiar, too, and that'll mean cleaning its sick up for a week after. I'll give it a week and see if they find it. What happened, anyway? Did you see?"
S: "Nah, I left when the Beastmen turned up. It was already too rowdy before that - you saw how the sacrifice went -"
F: "Poor Gwyneth."
S: "- and Billy the Nix knew about an after-party with honeymead. And poor Gwyneth my arse. I've never seen a May Queen demand so much tribute. She brought it on herself."
F: "Maybe."
S: "So you didn't stay past midnight. Where'd you go, then?"
F: "Mm, I left before that. With Glinty."
Sam grinned and punched her friend on the arm.
S: "I knew it."