There was something about an older shop, a dingy café, and any establishment that looks like it has seen better years. Something about how they smelled like something familiar that wraps around you like a snugly knit blanket. It's comfortable, it's home. So you find a reminder of an inkling of the path you have to take to get back to yourself. Perhaps it's more efficient if I suggest I mean finding the right path is finding yourself. Coming home, you see?

The young witch's shop smelled distinctly like sandalwood as I stepped over the threshold. That smell was more than familiar â€" it was a very thread in my being. Immediately, being relaxed afforded me the opportunity to take in the intricacies of the shop. It was fascinating, for sure â€" I would have to make a mental note to inquire as to the wares of Serafina's shop. Instead of prolonging the period where I walked to the belly of the shop, I had immediately went to where she had been and inquired to her. The younger witch looked surprised when she turned to look at me, and her eyes befell what genetics gave way to.

"There is something you can help me with, yes."

I hadn't found much of a reason to actually call on the young witch's talents. If anything, whatever reason I gave her would be a very, very inflated little fib. Fortunately, she chose a different route; Serafina had studied my eyes for a moment too long. She'd noticed the freckles beneath my eyes and tickling on my cheeks. There wasn't much I could do to deny that she had put two and two together, and was wrestling with the idea that she might have known me. With a reserved pause, I held my tongue for a brief moment before a tiny smile began to tug the corners of my lips in a way that might remind her of my brother's mischevious smile.

"My brother is a complicated person with a variety of unconventional issues. He has a penchant for illusions. I'd like you to make a potion for me that will temporarily take this power away. Null it, if you will."

Unfortunately for said brother, he also had a penchant for mild psychotic behavior and a tendency to turn towards illicit drugs he so heavily traffics to get whatever psychosis residing in his brain to leave. Granted, surely he had medication he took for it at this point as well as something to soothe what could only be classified as PTSD. But the illusions had taken a strange turn when he'd dipped back into his favorite substance. Leave it to Davante to acquire a magically-induced disorder.

I settled gracefully in a chair that was within speaking distance, but not Serafina's personal space. Lounging casually against the chair-back, I felt another smile begin to draw my lips as I contemplated answering Serafina's question regarding whether or not she knew me. Oh, I'm sure she'd heard tell of my existence from either Elenore or Davante. Davante quickly had given himself away with his talk of the young woman standing in front of me now. He'd done her justice, speaking of her professional skills. Though he'd spoken only of her wares and the shop, the brightness of his eyes when he said her name was all I had ever needed to notice there was something more. Did it suit me to pretend like I didn't know her relation to my brother? Did it suit me to keep my siblings quiet?

No, probably not. This was far too entertaining to keep to myself.

" You might," I started to say, removing my glasses to give her a better look at my face that so closely resembled my younger siblings. " My name is Calliope. You might know my brother or sister; I've heard he's a frequent customer."

life will out