Elizabeth appeared rather reluctant to talk about whoever was on the other end of the call, not even relenting after a minute of Emma staring disapprovingly at her. That was when Emma remembered two things: firstly, that the effectiveness of this strategy was probably diminished when she had a helmet instead of a face, and secondly, that there were alternative sources of information available.
What have you got for me? Emma thought, deciding to take advantage of Edith's long standing antipathy towards her Mother.
[Since the first part of the defensive skill activated by not the second, we can infer that whoever was communicating on the other end had anti-detection measures of their own in place. Neither were able to overcome the other to provide one-sided protection, so the magical compromise ensued: both sides could no longer see each other, and the connection fizzled. There's only a handful of individuals who maintain regular contact with Elizabeth, are in possession of such measures, and are paranoid enough to activate them for what they believed would be a routine conversation.
Of the three candidates who fit this mould, the first is also a magical girl, and would thus prefer the innate telepathy available between two of them. The second is Overmind, who would have easily overpowered your protection to keep the call going. Ruling both of them out, the most likely culprit is one Alice Amdusias, heiress to the House of Amdusias, one of the few Warlock families that retain their home in Europe, rather than migrating west across the Atlantic.]
"Amdusias?" Emma asked aloud, drawing a minute flinch from Elizabeth. "Why would she be talking to you? Unless it's to apologise for her hired goons shooting at me, that one time I went on a patrol back home."
"That did come up," Elizabeth winced, having decided not to try to hide it, after Emma got the answer elsewhere. "Alice will be coming here on the final day before the Solstice, alongside her mother, the Matriarch Amdusias. They'll be looking to apologise, if you're willing to hear them out?"
"Only if they bring gifts," Emma demanded, because even if she was never truly at risk from such paltry opposition, certain formalities had to be observed.
"They really didn't even take a second look," Emma mused, keeping Epitaph just a few metres above the ground, as she looked for familiar faces.
[Everyone here is at minimum a trusted servant of a magical family. Even if they aren't familiar with the inner workings of magic, they'll have seen enough throughout their career to not care about a little flight. Granted, it didn't usually happen in recent decades, but seeing as the apocalypse destroyed any semblance of technological flight, we won't have to worry about air traffic control for a long time, I should think.]
It didn't take long for Emma to complete a circle around the campsite, admiring the neat rows of tents. She kept away from Stonehenge itself, as even attempting to approach made her hackles rise, suggesting some truly potent magic at work within the ruin, but other than that, she had free rein of the sky. As for the question of numbers, a bit of napkin maths suggested the presence of maybe a thousand tents, plus or minus a few dozen.
"Most people are pooling tents, I take it?."
[Magic is hereditary to a large degree. Whilst there will inevitably be a few loners, who have dedicated all their time to the craft and have no patience for family, most tents will be shared by three at minimum, and sometimes many more. Spatial magic is very good, these days, even a mansion in a tent that fits dozens of rooms isn't out of the question, if you're willing to spend big. On that note, look at your nine o'clock.]
Emma's head turned as advised, to pick out a face in the crowd. It wasn't particularly difficult, given her bubblegum pink hair and a pair of glasses that wouldn't have looked out of place on an Elvis Presley imitator. Descending to draw level with her, Emma was able to ask for a name when the System beat her to it.
[Crystal Lynn - Level 67 Space Mage]