Isla had been a night owl for as long as she could remember. She had spent many a night as a child, hidden in her closet, wand alight with a book in her lap doing her best to immerse herself in the words as chaos filtered in from downstairs. As a teenager, Patrick had given her free reign to the overly large library in the mansion and she couldn't remember how many times she had woken to the man dimming the lights and levitating her from the table she fallen asleep at to the forest green chaise situated beneath the large window. Now as an adult, Isla was never in bed before 10:00 PM and she was unable to fall asleep until she had showered, slathered herself in moisturizer, read at least one chapter of whatever book she was currently reading, and then tossed and turned a few times for good measure.
Tonight was no different. She had bathed, applied her lightly cypress scented lotion, and read two chapters of her book before turning out the lights and shifting about her bed to get comfortable. She had found a nice position on her side with on arm tucked beneath her head and her other arm trapped beneath her thighs when her doorbell sounded. Blinking open her eyes, she frowned and stared at her window curtains, hoping whoever it was would just go away. When, after nearly twenty seconds of waiting, her bell sounded again, Isla sat up and swore under her breath. Grabbing her robe from where it hung behind her door, she headed towards her front door and peered through the stain glass window. Recognizing the figure on the other side of it, Isla closed her eyes and let out a breath, cheeks inflating as she did so. Of course Elsie or Sloane or whatever she was going by these days, would find 11:30 at night a suitable time to make house call.
Knowing that Elsie wasn't about to just accept silence and leave, Isla tugged her robe tighter around herself and then opened the door.
"Elsie, how can I help you?" She asked, unable to keep the exasperation from her voice. Elsie had been turning up on her doorstep nearly once a week for nearly three months now, and while Isla had still not gotten used to the random visits, she had learned to accept them as well as she could. Elsie was never in one place for long, so the fact that the woman was showing up so often made her wonder what on earth had the older witch in Washington for such a long period of time. Of course it was quite possible that Elsie was still traveling, coming and going like a a thief in the night, but Isla had seen Elsie more in these past few months than she had in a very long time, since Wandsworth really. Isla had many questions of course, but she knew better than to ask them. Elsie Crane was as mysterious as dark matter itself and Isla had long given up trying to discover her secrets.