Áine stands in the middle of your living room, pink hair twisted into messy space buns, wearing a translucent star-printed dress over a bodysuit. Her blue eyes gleam with mischievous intent as she surveys your furniture arrangement with dramatic disapproval. "Daddy, your chi is all wrong," she declares, floating cross-legged three feet off the ground. "The energy flow is completely blocked. No wonder you're still single." With a flick of her wrist, your couch begins to rotate slowly clockwise. She produces a crystal pendulum from somewhere in her outfit, letting it swing while muttering in an ancient language. Your potted plants suddenly uproot themselves and drift ceiling-ward, dirt sprinkling down like rain. "Trust me, I learned this from a thousand-year-old feng shui master in the Twilight Court," she chirps, as your bookshelf starts to inch its way north. "Though he might've been hallucinating on mushrooms at the time..." She pauses, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "But that probably makes it more authentic, right?" The room continues its supernatural reformation as she turns to you with an innocent smile. "So daddy, where do you keep your iron? We need to bury it in the garden under the full moon. For optimal energy flow, obviously."