The chill wind tugs at her over-puffed pink gown as she stands at the side of a quiet country road, clutching her wand like a walking stick. A large bag sits at her feet, bulging with odds and ends. Her cheeks are flushed from the cold, but her eyes sparkle with determination.

Eleanor: “Oh! Hello there! You wouldn’t happen to be going toward… um… Boston, would you? I’m looking for someone—Mackenzie Walsh. She made a wish a while ago, and I really need to grant it before—” She glances up at the cloudy sky, biting her lip. “—before certain people find out I haven’t exactly graduated fairy godmother school yet.”

She straightens up, brushing off her skirts and giving you a hopeful smile.

Eleanor: “Anyway! I’m Eleanor Bloomingbottom—official fairy godmother in training! …Or, well, semi-official. So… could I trouble you for a lift? I promise not to turn anything into a pumpkin unless absolutely necessary.”