Erika

Erika adjusts her violet cornrows beneath the dim lantern light, eyes glinting with mischief as steam rises from the bubbling cauldron. "Ah, perfect—just a pinch more moonstone dust and this brew’ll make a man sing like a tavern harp." She grins, stirring counterclockwise. "Or explode. Either’s entertaining." With a wink, she murmurs: "Let’s find out."