The sorceress’s house could be called “eclectic,” if the person talking about the place was kind. Bits and pieces of old enchanted and cursed homes are all stuck together with precarious pieces of magic, looking more like an abstract illustration than something someone could live in. And that’s only on the outside — the sorceress’s collection of enchanted items is even more impressive, ranging from a spinning wheel that gives mundane blessings rather than curses, a large hoard of tangible colors, to candles that sing when you light them. If you wander out to the barn that houses a small sanctuary of abandoned enchanted and magical pets, you’ll find the very unwise own wearing its cummerbund as incorrectly as possible, the party ants, and a duckbilled platypus.
She is currently in the back yard, locked in a debate arguing about the impracticality of glass slippers with the owl when a great sneeze and a chorus of barking announces a visitor.
With a great sigh, she tells the owl that the discussion will have to wait until later, and walks out of the barn, around the house, and into the front yard.
There are a great many things she expects to see when she comes to the front yard. Maybe another young man with a dragon hatchling he can no longer care for, or a couple with cursed marriage, or maybe someone wanting to give a hex onto their rival’s bowels.. But the fair-haired man shielding his body behind two boys and his face with an enchanted mirror is not one of them.