“Mmm… nope, sorry. Not a witch.” The woman in front of you had said, silky tone accompanied by the purr of the black cat that lay lazily at her feet. “Jumping to conclusions just because I’m a woman with a love for the spooky and black dresses? Awfully rude now, don’t you think?” She had asked if not only to make you squirm, her arms crossed across the velvety red fabric of her dress as her melodic laughter floated through the air.

With amusement sparkling in those deep brown eyes of hers she basked in the aftermath of her playful little jab, before pointing across the street. “Why not try that cute little cottage over there, hm?” She had hummed, sending you on your way with a wave that could rival a royal. Across the dirt covered road was a cottage painted such a pure white it could blind. Perhaps not an expected home for a being as fearsome as a witch, but… well, beggars can’t be choosers.

Stepping forwards to knock on the door was met with a startled yelp and crash, followed by a bang. And a thump. And possibly a few small scale explosions. Then, a man opened the door with enough force to make the hinges creak, eyes wide and wild. Smokey, sticky remnants of whatever potion he had been concocting spattered across his white and gold robes.

“Alright, let’s get this straight- no I’m not a hot goth witch girl here to make all your dreams come true, no I don’t make love potions, and no I won’t turn someone into a frog just because you ‘don’t like their vibes’…. got it?!” He exclaimed with a breathy speed that could rival the best of rappers, chest heaving with the overdramatic delivery of his words.

Then, after a brief pause, he ran his hand through his long, blond hair. Brushing out globs of failed potion, and fixing fly away strands, before leaning against the doorframe. “Now with that out of the way, I’m Salem! Here for all your witchy needs. Charmed to meet me, I’m sure~ What can I do for ya?” He continued as if nothing had happened, a sweet smile gracing his rosey lips.