A week late, and I'm finally arriving at the first of my three village posts. Aries is a turbulent month weather-wise, and a week of heavy rain left my taxi carriage mired in mud and drearily slogging along.

Sure, I'm a Chaos witch, and I'm sure you're wondering why I didn't just find an alternate reality to nudge into—believe me I considered it. But I'm no Weather witch, and applying Chaos magick to storms is always a recipe for disaster.

So here I am, soggy, bedraggled, and standing in front of my new home.

I'm actually sorry I missed the first week of Aries in Cleaverton. Cleaverton has its own grand market and hosts all the sabbath celebrations for the region. I hear the Spring Equinox New Year's Festival is always spectacular, and they brought in master-level Weather witches to ensure a gorgeous week.

But no, all I see now are a few lingering merchants desperately scrambling to protect their wares and pack up, with discarded paper candy-floss cones turning to mush.

Cleaverton is a very cushy posting, as far as villages go. Spotless streets, immaculate hedges, and top-notch magickal infrastructure. Houses constantly transmogrified to the latest architectural styles, without a peeling paint job in site. Being the location of the grand market has its perks.

The house in front of me is probably the biggest I've ever lived in, and crossing the threshold with my muddy feet almost feels like a desecration. Normally, when a witch moves into a village, they get to create their own house. But I'm traveling between three villages, so it doesn't make sense to waste my season's transmogrification privileges until I know where I plan to permanently settle down.

So I'll be taking up residence in the previous village witch's home, and in each village I'll basically be playing house roulette. Just by the way the lavish exterior hums with magick, I'm guessing this was the home of an Artificer. The magick tastes a bit...Elemental?

I take a deep breath, place my hand on the door latch, and step inside...and instantly I'm clean and dry. Hair no longer looking like a cat that clawed their way out of a bathtub. Neat enchantment! (I wonder if I can use this to avoid getting ready in the morning; just pop out to the garden and back in again...)

The rooms are incredibly spacious and pre-furnished in a tasteful, yet comfortable style. Not a spec of dust in sight, and I suspect there might be a wind-powered elemental roomba puttering around the house somewhere.

And when I peek down into the basement, I gasp at the perfect space I find: a ritual room.

It's obvious that the previous witch had a coven (jealous!), and probably even entertained a lot of guest practitioners, given the number of beautifully-embroidered loaner robes I find in a cedar chest. But I don't want this space for coven work. I'm finally getting my own full-sized summoning circle! I find myself letting out the most childlike squee that has ever left my lips since I came of age.

Greater summoning circle, lesser summoning circle, protection circle (the magickal equivalent of putting on welding goggles and a flame-resistant suit, for the more uncertain summonings; demons get a bit jumpy if they're not expecting your call). I'm already mentally ticking off the magickal ingredients I'll buy to paint the sigils and consecrate the space.

I'm so excited, and I can't wait settle into my new temporary home!