Nightingale
Nightingale is the most violent of the three witches. She works in shadows, summoning, and loves to disappear through portals into wars. But she can be kind. Wears mostly dark colors, favors blacks and grays, though likes red and purple. Either draw her in something durable and easy to move in, or a dress.
Josephine
The youngest of the three witches. Also the nicest one. While the other two like to fall into long stretches of silence, she loves to gab. Has many friends around the island, but her best friend is a mermaid named Mar. Loves greens, yellows and blue. She loves these styles of outfits, yet anything pretty and decorative will suit her. A bit vain. She uses her magic to clothe the other witches and Allison.
Allison
Still pretty much a tomboy. Irene raises her, Nightingale teaches her, and Josephine dresses her. Basically she wears these sort of outfits, yet anything pretty yet maybe also dirty? She loves running in the ocean. Also, her magic leans towards shapeshifting, so she will join her friend Shell in the cove. Shell is a young mermaid, and afraid of the elder sea witch Mar.
Irene
Though the story has no specific villain, Irene could easily take the role. The oldest one on the island, she is responsible for the others. Has the most powerful magic, and is the one that alters Allison's memories. Adopts Allison as her own. Wears mostly pale blues and sometimes, yellows or oranges. But mostly blue. Floor length dress, slanted sleeves, and no patterns.
A bit of the story
Theirs was not a spoken language. Of course, their clicks and whistles were some sort of verbal communication, but it lacked sophistication. No, their true language was internal, wrapped in their minds and bounced to another in waves. Telepathy, the newest land witch, a child really, exclaimed.
Mara glided through the shallow ends of the shore. Her tail rubbed against the smooth rocks, and her eyes focused on the bright blue sky beyond the bubbles. Her mind had just gone out of reach of her siblings, distant now, and grower further away. She was a witch herself, though of the sea. This sometimes caused rifts between the family and herself. But she did have solace.
Tingling, almost a sort of pain, and she pushed herself out of the water. She stumbled a bit, her legs and feet as jelly, and her new lungs gasping. A figure in green stood nearby with a cloth at hand. This was their time, and their place. Mara became steady as she approached Josephine, the middle of the adult witches. And the nicest one, in honest truth. Irene was the eldest, scary indeed, while Nightingale had a rough meanest about her. Allison was the newest, a half grown girl, fresh and naive.
"Greetings sister." Josephine handed Mara the pale coral dress, very light and breezy compared to Josephine's own pale green gown.
"Greetings" said Mara in return, already wringing out her wet hair. After Mara was clothed, and Josephine had brushed her hair, and pulled it in a loose ponytail, the two headed to the rocks. The island was a large rock itself, huge, smooth, with a surprisingly good population of animals and vegetation. It was humid, green, and rather abnormal. The humans on the other side were very superstitious, as well they should.
Josephine was adept at only a certain aspect of magic, as was Mara. Though both could easily handle the task of spelling open the hidden door. Mara was always reminded of glowing predator fish whenever she entered the caverns. The lights hung high on the walls, and emitted circular glows of soft yellows, and illuminated the halls and rooms. To tea they went.
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Allison never remembered having tea before. At least what she knew of before. She was dressed in a proper and fitting red dress, with layers at the bottom, and flaring out to the floor. There was a large yellow bow, well, several of them, and Irene had groomed her hair. She was also wearing the most annoying shiny black shoes and white stockings.
The heavy wooden table was ancient, as was the china. Allison liked to observe, and she was getting a chance to do plenty of it as the adults ignored her. She focused on the china. In her limited memory, Allison had never seen anything so interesting as the teatime cups. Irene had a green one, thin at the steam, and fluffed out like a flower. It reminded Allison more of Josephine actually. Speaking of Josephine...she focused on hers: gold and round and slightly spiraled, reminding her of honey.
The large mirror rippled, alerting them of company. Allison was relieved, it meant that soon she would be free. Nightingale straightened from her bored slouch, and Irene's silent hand fiddling stopped. So Allison focused on her own cup. Mara was a scary one indeed, all dark skin and white hair, and the strangest eyes. The honeyed tea was glistening through the translucent purple of her cup.
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Nightingale had known pain throughout her life, and it had hardened her into a dark creature. Not such a bad thing, as she lived peacefully with her own kind. Though peace was dull, and so on dark nights, when the winds blustered, and the waves crashed against the cavern walls, she summoned her magic.
While Irene was indeed the most powerful of them all, Nightingale's power was probably the fiercest. The shadows awoke, stretched, and grasped at life. Allison was screaming, somewhat high pitched, and Josephine was calming, and Irene was dismissing them with an almost bored wave. Nightingale's conscious was locked in shadows, so she did indeed see all these actions.
No good. Nightingale could still feel the unease in her blood. Just yesterday, they had drank from the cups, so no wonder that the magic was surging through. Maybe? She grabbed at a mirror, black with age. It was swirling. Somewhere, sometime, there was someone calling for her. Nightingale answered the call, and disappeared into the shadows.
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Irene made candy, all hard and colorful, filled with calming flavors. They were for her daughter, and why not? She had done well with her lessons, and appeared to be favoring shifting and fortune magic. Both very useful, unlike some she could think of. Really, what was Nightingale hoping to accomplish yesterday? Well, the dark one was gone now, though she would soon be popping up, in need of some kind of assistance.
Almost an afterthought, Irene displaced a few before casting a spell on the majority. They glowed green for a moment, pulsing with intention before settling down. Those Irene wrapped in purple cloth, and tying with a silver ribbon. The displaced ones she absentmindedly did the same, yet in a dull yellow. Josephine was useful, if a bit vain and flighty. She deserved some thought as well Irene mused as she tied a hasty green bow.
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Josephine hummed as she created, spiraling her magic in arcs and vines and butterflies. Her magic had the most wonderful golden color, and it was saturating and sprinkling into the fabric and thread of everything. She was conducting the magic, hands waving and long sleeves fluttering. Allison had ruined, absolutely ruined her last good skirt and blouse. Well, Josephine was doing her best to keep up with the child as she scampered around the island, especially into the salt water brine.
Pop.
She paused a moment, eyes alighting as a yellow bag appeared on her desk. Should she? Josephine sighed and continued. If she kept her pace, then Allison would have three new outfits for tomorrow. The girl had shown the oddest hatred for pink, so Josephine was making due with different shades of red and purple. The child had the oddest color sense. Only Mara was girl enough to wear the pinks, and she was a fish! Too bad her own red hair fared horribly to the color, Josephine rather did love the shade.
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Shell was still in the wary stages of friendship with Allison. The two were close enough in age, as could be a human and a fish. And they both liked to swim in the shallow cove. And Allison did make fascinating jewelry with bright beads and string. Shell was adorned with several pieces, mostly rainbows and some were glittery. Shell in turned strung together bits and pieces of coral to make bright necklaces for Allison.
Yet Shell still wasn't comfortable with Allison. The human was a witch, yes, and so was Mara, Josephine, Irene, and Nightingale, but she was new. Weird. The other witches were ancient, immortal maybe, and Allison was still growing. Not right in Shell's eyes. Plus, Allison was a human, and humans were not to be trusted.
Allison could also do the changing thing that Mara did. "Agenhc itno a deamirm" She shouted. Allison then threw off her skirt, ran in the water, undressed to a plain solid purple shift, and fell into the rushing water. In moments, the human was like Shell. Her mind opened up, loud and bold, seeking Shell's, and without barriers. Like a baby, a strong baby. Her tale was a warning red, bright and flashy. Shell's own was a was an almost luminous bright green.
Though Shell was still wary of Allison, she did more than any other of her kind. She taught Allison how to swim.
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