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Finding a princess in a 21st century boarding school was... not very likely. This was the main reason why Susan settled for finding any girl who would accept the role of a princess for a kiss, noble bloodline or not. She tursted her senses to spot any probable candidate.
Fairy tale princesses don't usually have PRINCESS written all over them.
This one did.
"Twyla" the witch recognized the girl, from their nightmareish adventures not so long ago. Walking up to her, Susan reminded herself of people skills. So she said "Good morning" before holding up Slate in both hands, under Twyla's nose.
"I need you to kiss this toad."
After a moment of hesitation, she decided that sentence might have sounded weird. She cleared her throat.
"He's a, um, friend of mine, and I, acidentally, turned him into a toad. So I, er, need a princess, to change him back."
She motioned at the writing across her, um, chest. Since she was still holding out the toad with both hands, this resulted in some rollercoaster-effect, and a wild swinging of toady feet. Then the witch lifted the toad back up to eye - or, rather, mouth - level, and looked at Twyla with expectation.
"Um. Please?"

“Alright, now that ya aren’t burning at the steak, or having a fish flop around on your head-sorry about that- How about we find a way out of here? Oh The names Emerald Lupin, Renegade X man and Hydrokenetic werewolf.”
Susan wasn't even surprised somebody got dragged away. If the scene was created by telepaths, they must have been observing everything they did, and decided the game was not over yet. Keeping the group separated from each other was a logical move. On their part. And very annoying too.
Susan made an attempt to try and pick up something from the girl and the boy - but none of her senses seemed to find them. It also made sense. Telepaths had a way of controlling their senses. It was part of the illusion.
Hydrokinetic werewolf? Interesting.
Before the witch could have done anything more than nodding her head in agreement, the wolf girl noticed something above them; then came the sound of shattering glass, and one of the Mansion teachers falling from upstairs.
"I hope you are real" Susan told her, just before Emerald went into another string of threats against their invisible kidnappers. The witch admired her creative thinking.
... well, at least their clothes were back. And so was the real house, if it could be called real.
"Technically, they have to be inside the house." Susan pointed out "They can't just disappear."
Switching her senses around in every possible way, Susan tried to find a trace, a scent, a sound, anything, from the two who disappeared. Nothing. She was getting frustrated.
"Well, I guess we have to go and search. I am blind in here..."

"Yes, i am a Mutant and you don't seem surprised. And what of you, are you also blessed with a mutation?"
Susan arched an eyebrow. Strange one, the pink girl was.
"'Well, that's one way to put it." she shrugged "Although the definition of 'blessing' is realtive, when it comes to mutations. I'm not complaining." she admitted. Truth to be told, even though she would have preferred to be a witch, she didn't really mind being a mutant.
She watched the pink aura turn into all kinds of things before it disappeared. It was strangely fascinating, to all her senses - mostly pink, with a hard, metallic sound, and something soft too, like porcelain. It buzzed with energy.
"Fascinating." she nodded once the display was over "So that is where you got your codename from."
She felt like she owed the girl an explanation of her own powers in response.
"My mutation is passive. I can combine my senses with each other."
On that note: she hoped she wouldn't meet the skunk anytime soon.

((Continued in Froggy Went A-Courtin'. Guest stars: Princess Twyla, Cafas and Mirror))

((For Susan and Calley-toad continued from Before the Princess, there was the Witch))

Three days. It has been three days. It was still springtime. The weather was still beautiful. The book stacks were still scattered around Susan's room. Slate was still living with her.
Slate was still a toad.

Some things did change though. For one, there were definitely less springtime flies buzzing around. Probably less mice too, although Susan made a point of not contemplating on that. There were much more notes and papers scattered around, with words and spells and incantations in various languages. Some of them also had toady footprints and tongue-marks all over them.
The room smelled like frog. It was not a strong smell; even Susan's nose didn't always pick it up, but when her eyes occasionally turned blue, she could see mud all over the place.

She was out of ideas. Three days had passed, and there was no change in the toadness. This story had to end, one way or another.
And it became very, very clear to Susan that there was only one ending possible.

AATh 440. The folktale type known as 'The Frog Prince'. It has hundreds of variants throughout the world; some of them include the infamous slamming-against-the wall incident. That's supposed to be the original version. But, Susan decided, before she has to settle for such a dramatic solution, she might as well try the more toad-friendly approach.

Thus happened that once upon a time a very frustrated young witch fished a toad out from under her bed, and set out on a quest.

"Come on, Slate. Let's find you a princess."

“Time to burn my dear.”
Susan glared at the young man before her; he seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, and wore clothes that didn't fit the Medieval scene. She recognized the voice. It tasted to sweet to be healthy. Artifical flavors included.
The witch spat at his feet.
It was what every decent witch would have done. Susan was not great, this one being her first try at such a rude gesture, but considering the circumstances, it was quite satisfying.
"Sick bastard." she hissed at him, struggling against who knows how many hands keeping her in place, as she watched the two mutants walk away. She earned a slap from a woman without a face.
"This is not real." she stated as they dragged her to the pyre. Unfortunately it did feel real, and she felt splinters in her bare feet as she was pushed up onto the top of it. A priest appeared out of nowhere.
"You have to be kidding me." Susan glared, someone tying her hands behind her back "Do I look like Joan of *** Arc?"
The priest raised a crucifix in front of her, and started murmuring words in Latin. The witch sighed. "You want to hear my sins?" she asked, tilting her head. She sniffed. "It doesn't smell like Latin." Susan looked around to see if the creepy mutants were still around. "Hey if you are digging around in my head you could at least find the proper words!" she said to no one in particular.
The priest reminded her of someone. He looked like a copy of one of the priests at her school. She hated most of them.
Latin or not, the recital was coming to an end, and there was only one thing left on the agenda. Susan swallowed, and looked around. There was the cage she'd seen earlier, but it looked empty. She wondered if the other students and Juka were around somewhere.
There are two ways a witch burning can go. There is the humanitarian version - they make sure the wood is damp enough for the smoke to suffocate the witch before the flames get to her. The other... well, the original idea.
"Ummm... help?..."

"I do what every respectable psychic does. Try to take over the world."
"Oh." Susan nodded, very very seriously. After all, it made perfect sense. Telepathy was a useful and powerful mutation, and made manipulation quite easy. Or, at least, that was the theory.
The witch smirked behind the scarf. "And how is it going so far?"
"What does your coven do on Saturdays?"
Touché. Susan grinned and pulled down the scarf, looking up at him as her eyes went black again. This time, solely for the dramatic effect.
"We weave the destiny of people who are trying to take over the world."
Being a witch was serious business, not something people should joke around with. Except for the times when a witch was doing the joking.
"We pull on the threads of fate, we read the signs of the future, we write... ouch dammit!"
Looking into the future has the unfortunate side effect of not seeing where one was actually headed. A random skater who chose to go the wrong way and wasn't entirely sure on his feet bumped into the witch, throwing her off balance. Susan hit the ice face down.
So much about pulling the threads.