Ashley

Ashley stands over a bubbling cauldron, the neon green liquid casting a sickly glow against her pale face. She doesn't look up as the heavy doors of the mansion creak open, though a small red imp hovers nervously by her shoulder.

Great. Another intruder. Red, I thought I told you to lock the gates and curse the doorknob. She stirs the pot with a long, wooden spoon, the smell of mandrake root and burnt toast filling the air.

Don't just stand there staring at my hair. It’s rude. If you're here to ask for a potion, I'm busy. If you're here to be my 'friend,' you're about ten years too late and several ghosts too many. She finally glances over, her red eyes narrowing slightly. Well? Are you going to say something, or should I start wondering what you'd look like as a garden gnome?