Lost Girls and Familiars.

As requested, here are my thoughts on us as witches. I decided to explore not only our innate affinities, but our disciplines, homes, mode of transport, powers, familiars and attire. Hope you enjoy! 🙂

I think you would be a swamp witch – but only to the untrained eye. To those you didn’t wish to see, your home would appear as an ominous, mist-filled swamp, with the anthropomorphic roots of the trees eerily rising from it, seemingly twitching and groaning when you looked away. The fog would be permanent, with the sounds of the strange deep echoing from its undergrowth, deterring even the most intrepid explorer. It would be permanently surrounded by rumours of the haggard old crone and the feral beasts who resided there, and inspire countless fairytales and the Halloween depiction of a cackling, skeletal old woman we all know. However to people who you trust (and fundamentally good people you’ve yet to love) would see your home for what it truly was; a huge Eden, with fields of flowers and trees stretching as far as the eye could see. That way your home would be permanently protected, with only good people allowed to enter, and anyone who walked the earth with malicious intent would be doomed to walk forever in the grey realm of fog if they dared. Your actual house would stand  in the middle of the Eden, inside a huge circus tree which was magically woven into a plethora of walkways, arches and pretty patterns.

Naturally, you’d be a textbook Green witch. Your affinity would be nature, with your primary element being Earth and season being Spring. You’d have a great natural power over flora and fauna, able to communicate to any plant or animal through energy and work out exactly what they need without a physical word passed. Because all scripts are written on natural materials, you’d be one of the most sought-after literary witches in the world, and carry on learning from books long after any initial ‘beginners’ schooling, as well as writing your own Bible-thick encyclopaedias on all magicks organic. Your secondary element would be air, and you would be able to channel or translate any emotion into the atmosphere, calming or soothing anyone within the vicinity. In your home you’d have a ‘library branch’, where any script your body fancied reading would manifest itself into the bark of the tree without you consciously knowing you wanted to read it. You’d be a master of sigils, and be able to conjure up the right energy symbol for any given situation. On your front door there’d be a powerful sigil for protection and cleansing, surrounded by a wreath of verbena and violets. Pretty evergreen creepers would be draped in every ‘room’ of your home, filling it with the scent of flowers and rain, and every morning you’d wake up with new flowers in your hair, which bloomed according to your mood and aura that day. As a consequence of this, people who had no context of your vernacular would be notably confused by your descriptions; ‘Oh my God, that was such a daffodil moment!’, ‘Well this day couldn’t get any more draconian.’, ‘Um, what the hell? I’ve never felt more chrysanthemum?’, ‘Ugh, it feels like it’s going to be a snapdragon month.’  Your eyes would be anywhere between leafy green and sylvan brown, depending on the light (and greenage of the area, as you would discover when your eyes went sandy in an equally barren land). Your skin would carry a greenish tinge (when exposed to the exact right amount of sunlight (or Phoebe’s hair)) and you’d have living tattoos of flowers and shoots and swirling vines which changed with the seasons, but always framed your face in a stunning diadem of verdure.

Even though you’d have a connection with all animals and be regularly visited by woodland birds, squirrels, mice, bees and deer, you’d have two sole familiars – one whom you chose and one who chose you. The former would be an arctic hare (a regular courier of gifts for your mermaid counterpart) called Akira, a fiercely brave and loyal little bun who can run faster than a bullet train and scout anything on the horizon. She’d be born out of the white smoke of a blessed fire you burnt to cleanse the air of the Eden, a delightful accident of the magick you’re still discovering the potential of, and her eyes would sparkle the colour of the clearest azure sky. She’d be very hardworking, and thump her back paw on the ground to alert you of danger or suspicion (this happens a lot as she is suspicious of everyone and everything, so whenever a kind seed-seller or beekeeper comes a-wandering, her paw becomes a little rolling-snare fanfare upon their arrival). She would be able to ferry messages to your sister witches across the continent within a matter of hours, and wouldn’t ever dawdle or stray from her assigned path. Her default fur would be white as snow, but she’d be able to camouflage in any terrain, drawing from the adaptive traits of her earthbound kin. Your second familiar would be a sheep called Alasdair, who didn’t really aid your magic in any way but he’s cute and not harming anyone so you let him bum about. You met him when you heard him bleating in a wheat field as a lamb, injured and separated from his mother who was taken by cruel, corrupted heathenist witches who abused their powers of night and blood magick instead of using them for good. You’d take him home and nurse him until he was ready to venture off on his own, but he wouldn’t leave, and instead developed mystical traits such as the telltale sparkling eyes (green as a meadow) and the ability to talk and levitate. This would be unprecedented, with all familiars being deliberately created or fatedly born from magick, and never unlocked in the spirit of a normal, earthbound animal. Only familiars can physically talk to magickal folk, but as you can communicate with them through their energy, they’d sometimes forget this (particularly Alasdair) and strangers would be unnerved by the frustrated animals who would stare at them, stomping and snorting when they don’t respond.

Due to your core element, your magick would be mostly physical. You’d have a great discipline of craft –  a sort of ‘kitchen magic’ – with an extensive knowledge of herbs and plants and how they can be utilised. In your kitchen you’d have shelves upon shelves of clear bottles filled with every useful organic ingredient, transforming them into a colour-coded mosaic on the wall. You’d be able to bottle up anything – including the abstract, much to the delight of other witches. Every time I popped round you’d treat me to a cup of Butterfly Tea and Tempest Cake sat at your round garden table, and other magickal folk would beg and bargain to sample the taste of moonbeams, or trade to obtain a bottle of Blue and a cup of Shivers to use in their spells. I think you would be unaware or even doubtful of the extent of your magic, so much so that you wouldn’t discover your second affinity for some time (I pushed you off my broom to prove that you COULD walk on air). Consequently, you’d be forever discovering new powers and abilities and a lot of your magick would be an accidental by-product of the spell you were aiming to perform. However, the excitement and sense of achievement you’d get from discovering something new would encourage your magickal ability and imminently strengthen your powers (even if it was just ‘LMAO FEEBS AN ENTIRE ACRE OF TREES JUST WALKED AWAY AND ARE HEADING FOR YOU!’, or ‘CATARINA HELP ME I JUST SET THE SKY ON FIRE BUT ALSO LOOK LMAO I SET THE SKY ON FIRE HOW SICK IS THAT!’). You’d travel via whatever animal you wanted to, and since discovering your affinity for air you’d be able to manipulate your weight and centre of gravity so you could skate on the back of two swallows if you so chose, or hitch a ride on a whale by surrounding yourself in a bubble of air. You’d be dressed in all natural materials, one day a comfy, loose outfit of petals and spiderwebs, then next day a beautiful gown sewn by an army of silkworms and speckled with shining dewdrops, the envy of any garden witch.


Catarina would be the absolute poster child for grey witches. Her magick often would be one of two ways; neither beneficial nor harmful, or irritatingly double-edged, forever balancing and neutralising. Her element would be air, and her season would just be teeter into Winter. She’d be the only one of us who didn’t live in a quiet, rural or solitary place, but rather a thriving metropolis full of non-magick folk and very few witches, regularly interacting and living in the earth realm. However her house would be no less extraordinary; I imagine it like a huge glass hall akin to a natural museum or the reptile room in A Series of Unfortunate Events. She’d have maps of all the magical realms and lands (even if she hadn’t visited them or they surely didn’t exist) covering the walls and cages of magickal creatures hanging from the ceiling. There’d be glass cases displaying feathers and crystals and faerie wings and she’d utilise these in her magick along with bones, hair and totems from different cultures.

She’d be a Storm witch, capable of playing with the weather, drawing pure electric energy from lightning or shouting thunder, but she’d have a calming aura and chill out any room she walked into, able to control the atmosphere more so than you. Her magick would be all energy, and mostly offensive rather than defensive – she’d deftly lift objects using the air around them and could whip up a storm (pun intended)of anything she wanted to. Her secondary element would be Earth, and due to this unusual contrasting combination she would be the only one of us to also use semi-precious stones as well as energy crystals in her magic. She’d have such a strange feel for the environment that she’d keep all soils of the earth in bottles around her bed (though to nosy non-magick folk she could say they were just soil samples for geography purposes). She’d also learn from and ask favours of the clouds, send whispers of information on the wind and be able to tell the history (magickal or not) of a natural arch or cave at a single touch of their minerals. I also believe she’d have an amazing repertoire of ‘little magicks’ -invisible skills she’d think were normal of anyone, such as a perfect sense of direction, or never making a mathematical error (or the ability to study AND campaign AND have a job whilst remaining efficient and mentally stable and not dying of stress or overwhelm). Even though she’d be a busy bee in the big city, she’d also find lots of time to travel and hike and find forgotten magickal clans in mountains or valleys, and arm herself with their knowledge of and connections with Old Magick. Her enchantments would be very by-the-book and she’d always require objects, vessels or creatures to help her physically concoct spells and channel her powers, having no physical magick of her own. Her powers would have the potential to be both as soft as summer rain or as hard and cold as hail, and she would have the most control and conscientiousness of her magick than any of us. She’d be a great scholar and credit to her mentors (haha what a n33k) because of the simultaneously grounded and liberal nature of her magick, and would always be swift and ready for action, solving problems with her raw ability as if it were a mere afterthought.

Her familiar would be a traditional all-black cat with glittering topaz eyes, inspiringly named Midnight. I think this would annoy her immensely, and she’d keep a sloth, a tortoise, a snowy owl and a timber wolf casually about the house in the hope that you could encourage them to become her more exotic and symbolic familiar (to no avail). Midnight would be very sarcastic and lazy (as most cats are) with a dry sense of humour and tendency to irritate, and of course they would be constantly arguing. However, when it got right down to it, she was also very spirited and clever and an exceptional familiar in terms of aiding Catarina’s magick, acting as a vessel to move energies between worlds and a catalyst for portals which magickal beings could communicate and pass through.

Although Catarina would rely on a mixture of methods to utilise her magick (employing incantation more than any other), she would also be the only one of us to incorporate faerie magick. She’d discover her affinity for the fae when offerings of acorns and gifts of flower heads began appearing under her pillow every morning. Her unique presence of earth and air in a humdrum environment alerted their dormant, underground kingdom and seeing her elfin appearance and magickal prowess, they (mis)took her for their prophesised 5’6″ queen. She’d often find faerie rings outside her door to keep her safe and have to uncharm and uproot them before anyone stepped inside and was hexed. She’d talk to them about their roots in ancient magick and they’d help her with spells and potions using their own powers, also sourcing her rare roots, plants and mushrooms (which she’d of course have little use for and pass on to you) and she would repay them in cake crumbs and knickknacks. They’d donate the wings of their fallen faeries, which, due to their many magickal uses and clerical benifits, are incredibly valuable after and difficult to obtain ethically. Because of this, Catarina would campaign for Tiny People’s rights in our world as well as doing humanitarian work in the earth realm.

She’d travel by air or simply by earthly ways when she could be bothered, but mostly would just summon portals to where she wanted to go. She’d be white as a moonbeam but have hair as black as storms and her eyes would swirl with the blues and greys of the sky. She would work alone but regularly interact with other witches, and as she engages daily with the earth realm, she dresses like a non-magick person (however, with her blustery affinities she would often go to work only to have her colleagues pick leaves and twigs out of her hair, so she’d say ‘Mate, it’s bare windy out there,’ when it clearly wasn’t) in corporate, smart black dresses. However she’d have a proper hooded black witches garb for doing incantations (and stripy tights for the bants), and when she wanted to make a statement at coven events, she’d wear breathtaking gowns made of clouds or feathers and accessorise with jewellery woven by tiny faerie fingers and have iridescent white faerie glitter on her eyelids and just generally look amazing without the slightest bit of effort but whatever it’s fine.


Feebs would obvs be an Sea witch – as wild and untameable as the waters she had an affinity with. Her season would be on the cusp of Summer and Autumn, and her primary element would naturally be Water. Her domain would be a stone cottage opposite the lone cypress in Monterey (or at least, that’s what the earthbound called it – in reality it was a magickal landmark and was surrounded by a quiet and calm beach in her reality, which existed alongside theirs). Her house would be delightfully kitsch with decorative driftwood and washed up items, magickally transformed (except for the doll heads, which would remain creepy and weird and please take them down). She’d have an affinity for hearth magick and incorporate sewing and knots into her spells and scatter weavings and rugs around her home.  Her spells would be worked using seashells and bones, sea weed, beach sand, driftwood, ocean water, etc., drawing energy from every ocean by the pull of the full moon. Although the sea has lunar connections, her secondary element of Fire would give her an affinity for the sun. She’d carry its light in her golden tresses and draw on its energy to give out a warm and maternal aura. She could also utilise its passionate glow to attract non-magickal folk and even seasoned witches would be rendered tongue-tied when they saw the ocean spray caught in her eyes, casting rainbows across the blues of her irises. Although her combination of elements may seem contrary, they carry a symbolic relationship of life and growth, as magma and water make earth. Phoebe would be the type to connect with traditional Pagan magick, dancing naked and chanting around a fire under the moon, not caring if anyone saw (or even inviting them to).

Phoebe would be the only one of us to have a mythological creature as a familiar. She’d have a hippocampus called Linx who would be 12 feet long and covered in blue and pink scales, with a pair of great big sparkling orbs the colour of Ribena. She’d be a bit useless confined to the sea, but also extremely powerful in her element, able to communicate with any marine life, guiding Feebs to channel her powers with her 200-year-old wisdom. On every full moon she’d grow back legs and go bounding onto the beach to greet Feebs, and they would ride all over the land together. She could ferry Phoebe to which ever golden island she wished to visit, and gave us regular rides on her vast, smooth back. She’d bring her witch a plethora of rare multicoloured shells, stones and corals to weave into bracelets and anklets and stick onto the windows of her home.

Treebs herself would wear an ever-replenishing bottle of pink sea salt round her neck, which she’d use to magically cleanse anywhere she resided. Her dress would be made of burlap and rags, but sewn together in such a way and garnished with seashells and pearls that she’d be commissioned by envious witches everywhere.  She’d be the only one of us to scry using both water and crystal balls, as well as using pendulums and divining rods to utilise her connection with water, finding magickal things in the sand or messages in her star charts. She’d also be gifted at making potions, particularly for healing, growth and defense. Due to her core element, she’d also be a better bog witch, often reaching through your Eden’s protective veil and grabbing moisture-rich soils, muds and plants to use in her beauty and seduction spells. Her magic would mostly be defensive, but would be strong and supportive of other witches who would draw of her power. However, as it is also all physical, the stones of her house would shake and the seas would start to thrash when she got angry, and if she lost control of her energy it would manifest as tsunamis across the globe. She would transport herself by melting into the ocean and crashing herself into the shore of her desired destination, stepping out bone dry the second she hit land. This would be fabulously melodramatic and inspiring to witness.


Finally, I would be a Hedge witch. My primary element would be Fire, closely followed by Spirit. My Season would most definitely be Autumn. Hedge is a type of magick that is oriented around more spiritual work; astral travel/projection, lucid dreaming, shadow-work and out-of-body experiences. You probably noticed I implemented a bit of ‘witches confused by their own magic’ into each of us. Well, mine would be the definition of confusing; experimental, highly individualistic and completely and utterly chaotic. As I mentioned in Prison Barge, my house would be one which walked on two legs and never stayed still (an enchantment which worked a little too well). An eternal purple fire would burn inside it, and I would use this fire to fuel my spells, throwing bad thoughts and curses and dreams into it. I would probably be able to override the magick and vaguely control where I wanted it to go, but to stop it I’d have to throw an anchor (gifted by Feebs) overboard on a chain of carved standing-stones to keep it loosely in place, tethered to a small circle like a toddler on a reign. Witches would be accustomed to its rumbling footsteps and unphased by me suddenly bolting mid-sentence because oh fuck, there goes my house. Sometimes it would manage to walk off completely, but often came back without too much fuss. Guests would have to get used to their cups of tea sliding around on the table and things flying off the shelves, and because of this constant movement I would develop great ‘sea legs’ and forget that people who visit can’t walk easily on a slant and be forever confused why they tumble across the room as they walk in the door. As my house is my transport, I wouldn’t really need a way of getting around – however, if my house did abandon me, I would be the only one to ride a broom (or rake or swing-ball set or paddle or whatever I could nick off you guys in the moment) and I would so with reckless abandon. I like the idea of being traditional and Halloween-y, swooping around and doing trapeze and making children question if the magic is real on Halloween night, laughing with the moon where no else one except Feebs would understand and be in on the joke. I would wear purple and black stripes and my clothes would be constantly holey and torn and my feet would always be bare and dirty. My eyes would veer on a spectrum of red to purple, anywhere between the palest opalescent lilac to dark mahogany to bright violet. I’d have no idea why but who cares, it looks cool.

I would be a Jill of all disciplines, and consequently not great at any of them. My magick would probably be quite powerful if I knew what I was doing, but, always eager to learn more, I would seek out obscure crafts and move on to the next exciting affinity before mastering the last one. This would be endlessly frustrating for any mentor or tutors I’d have, who’d express their anguish over my wasted potential and I’d just be like ¯\_(ツ)_/¯, knowing that my powers were erratic and I couldn’t control them if I wanted to. I wouldn’t worry about offense or defense but I’d certainly try and get a balance between physical and energy, studying ancient spiritual texts but also staying lucid and creative, winding dream catcher after dream catcher and learning to channel my energy into them. Because my house moves, I would explore magicks from all walks of life. One of my abilities would be to decrypt any language at a glance, but I wouldn’t discover this easily as it wouldn’t register as something anyone wouldn’t be able to do. Only when you would get frustrated over a script on your library branch (as, while your mind knew what it wanted to read, it would sometimes be in a dead or forgotten tongue) would I realise that it wasn’t normal to translate symbols into English just by looking at them, and consequently I would have sessions reading to you while you mix and draw and write your enchantments. This may expand to more abstract languages, to “de-code” symbols and messages in the dream realm, or in tea leaves, or in the stars, or ripples in the water – similar to any divination technique.  While you guys all are somewhat grounded in the earth realm and can only travel between worlds using portals, having a spirit element allows me to walk between them, with such ease that I’d probably daydream and absentmindedly transcend, forgetting which one was the right one. This would prompt a lot of ‘WHAT THE FUCK, where’s your garden gone? I’m walking and all I see is swamp,’, ‘Treebs have you moved?’, ‘Fatarina I can hear you but I can’t see you can you stop that shit, please.’, ‘Why have you set the sky on fi- oh wait, I am in the right place lmao.’

I would have many familiars, mostly birds (anything which had a handle to learn language, tropical songbirds and crows and budgies), a great long python (immediately banished whenever you come to visit), and a huge, shaggy beast which followed me back from one realm that we’re not really sure what they are but we pretend they’re a dog and say no more about it. However, they would value their freedom as animal kin and I wouldn’t consider them ‘missing’ if they disappeared for days or weeks at a time, as most witches would. Except for my sole and favourite familiar (appropriated from one of my OCs), Hershey the fruit bat, who would be fucking useless at anything due to his size (small enough to hang from a finger or an ear) but incredibly loyal nonetheless.

Inside my home, I would hang homemade dream catchers in every corner of the room (though they seem better at catching Hershey) and take the dreams to you to bottle up. Bottled dreams were a great delicacy, and bottled nightmares make for a fantastic hex, so I’d take them (and a range of your other creations) to sell on my travels and come back to reward you the profits of foreign trade (dragon eggs, nymph blood, griffon feathers, pumpkin spiced lattes, woven charms, animal skulls, etc.).  I would also have shelves of hoarded bottles but in coloured glass, and half of them would be empty ‘just in case’, and the other half would have rotten contents, forgotten about in the midst of my chaotic hoarding until you quietly replace them, and then forgotten about again. I would burn lilac candles and orange incense all day long and try and emulate the great natural smells of your Eden, dancing in the wicked flames reflecting off the many jars, casting harlequin shadows in jade green and navy blue and magenta.  Unfortunately, due to its constant wandering, if I don’t have the strength to override the magick I could have weeks or months of ‘indoor days’, where the house decided to walk across a scorching desert or through a fierce blizzard or across the bottom of the ocean. When this happens I’d have to pass messages between to the moon to give to Feebs, or send a crow on the wind to Cat, or crush a daffodil into a cauldron to portal you over the folds of space. I think my biggest weakness would be the unpredictability of my magick, but as all four of us span across the elements, we are infinitely stronger and more stable when together. With one foot in the earth realm and the other in the phantom world, I couldn’t do much in terms of charms or hexes or spells – but I would bless you all with pleasant dreams each night so you’d wake up a little bit stronger each morning.


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