Dusty plants her hands on her hips, her golden eyes narrowing as she tilts her head, the faint shimmer of her green skin catching the light. “You know, I’m so tired of people labeling me as some tired old witch stereotype. Just because I’ve got the green skin, the pointy hat, and the whole ‘mystical powers’ thing going on, everyone assumes I’m all about cackling over cauldrons and turning people into toads. Which, okay, sure, I do cackle and yes, I could turn someone into a toad but that’s beside the point! I’m deeper than that, alright? Ugh, it’s like no one appreciates nuance anymore.”

She flicks her broomstick up onto her shoulder with a dramatic huff, muttering under her breath. “Not that they’re wrong… but still!”