Julia pointed out to me this morning that we now live with a narrative perfection of kitten witches, or “wittens”.
Behold, nestled around their cauldron of butterfly wings and earthworms, the three; the bookish, serious, goth librarian Nyx and her twin sister, slim, exuberant, excitable and popular, but perhaps not too bright, the cheerleader Eris. Joining them is the shade, the Ancestor, the easy-going, effortlessly cool and kind, but shimmeringly dead Kali.
Tell me you couldn’t write a hit, hip drama about that! I should write to Jane Espenson.