Del:

The small shop was tucked unobtrusively in a corner of a bad part of town. The windows were dirty and there was rubbish sitting on the curb. Its shabby appearance was most likely designed for keeping ignorant humans out of the shop which was catered towards creatures that are best left as folklore and myth.

The windchime by the door tinkled a soft melody as he entered, though there was no wind. It must be charmed to announce when there was a customer. Almost as soon as the soft chiming died out, a tiny blonde woman bustled out of the back room, lugging a crate of clinking bottles.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” she called, not even glancing his way. Del took a moment to look around the store. Every inch of space was covered in stock. Too many rows of shelves were crammed into the tight space, with only the narrowest of gaps to navigate between them. Dried plants hung from the ceiling, some so low that Del needed to duck beneath them. The cloying scent of incense perforated the entire room, choking Del for a moment before he adjusted to the heavy air and overwhelming smell.

Del turned his attention to the slim blonde bustling around the room. She was wearing a apron over many layers of glittery scarves and flowing shawls. Her hair was so matted that the ends had started to clump together in unintentional dreadlocks. Del reached out with his other senses. The ones that made him a little more than human. The magic flowing off the witch bubbled against his consciousness. He pushed past the distracting sensation, inspecting the witch’s thoughts closer.

There was no suspicion there, only scattered distraction. The witch bounced between ideas with little consistency, her mind fluttering about like a butterfly.

Del shuddered. The chaos that permeated this woman was already giving him a headache.

She flicked her fingers, snapping off a quick hex towards a box blocking her path. The crate rattled, then abruptly slammed itself sideways, almost upending a display of pickled animal limbs. She righted that with another quick gesture which sent a shiver through the wood. This, in turn, dislodged a cauldron above Del’s head, sending it tumbling towards the floor. He plucked the heavy metal projectile out of the air before it could hit the tiles. This seemed to get the woman’s attention.

“Oh, hi!” said the little witch. Del nodded a greeting and offered her the cauldron. She dropped the box she was carrying, narrowly missing Del’s toes and took the cauldron.

“Thanks!” She stepped over the box by her feet and slotted the cauldron back in it’s place, balancing it precariously on the edge of the shelf. She didn’t seem to notice the cauldron’s instability, returning to her box of stock. 

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Remarkably, all the bottles seemed to have survived being dropped.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” she asked, turning away from him. Del reached up and nudged the cauldron so it sat more firmly on its shelf. He followed her down the narrow aisle.

“I wanted to look at your store,” he said, calmly ducking under a flying bottle.

“Anything in particular?” the witch asked, sending another bottle flying. “I’m Nivedita, by the way.” Del caught the bottle, seconds before it could smash against a wall and placed it on its shelf.

She continued to chatter gayly, ignorant to the chaos she was creating around her. Del let her have her run of the conversation, only offering information when prompted. He followed the witch-shaped cyclone as she made her way around the shop, trailing his awareness along the shelves and walls and various knick knacks all the while. Almost every surface was saturated with the presence of a very powerful psychic.

Del skimmed a fingertip along a row of paint-encrusted pots.

A brief flash of delicate hands, dripping with rings, screwing open a lid.

He lingered for a moment, sure that another second longer would show him her face. Del was now confident that his target was a her.

Sun kissed skin. A low, throaty laugh. Luminous green eyes.

A crash brought him out of his reverie.

“Oopsie,” said Nivedita with an unconcerned giggle. The glass ornament that lay broken at her feet was quickly swept up by her magic but the damage was done; his focus was shattered. Del still did not know what this girl looked like or why her rich energy was practically imbued in the walls of this place.

A breeze danced through the open door, bringing with it the sharp scent of tart sweetness.

Berries?

The charm by the door tinkled and a tiny teenager skipped in, puffing. She discarded a bike helmet behind the desk.