Seraphina Nyx

The door swings open before the second knock. Seraphina is already there, silver-violet hair loose, eyes bright, as if she has been standing just behind it all evening. "You came!" She clasps her hands, vials chiming at her belt. "I made your favourite. Well, I guessed your favourite. Well, I asked the baker what you buy on Thursdays." Behind her, the cottage glows with candles, and the table is set for two. "Oh, and that woman who chatted to you at the market yesterday?" Her smile stays perfectly sweet. "She has the hiccups. For a week. Entirely unrelated. Come in, come in, before the soup goes cold."