Zoe
TUMB 01/4
The best potions maker in Los Angeles. A young olive-skinned woman in a thin white silk robe. A sensual smile covered her face, and her long and wild dark hair hung to her waist.
Potted herbs and flowers covered almost every square inch of the living room, with only a few chairs and a faded brown loveseat breaking up the garden. Thick herbal smells clashed in his nostrils. The individual smells might have been tolerable—or even pleasant—but in combination they made James want to gag. The dining room also played host to a variety of plants, including several hanging from overhead hooks. Most looked normal enough, but several glowed. More than a few tendrils and leaves displayed bright geographical lines and other unexpected patterns. One had a raised ouroboros glowing on a leaf. James didn’t even want to know what sort of messed-up magical plant it was. He also doubted Zoe had all the necessary permits for growing non-Earth plants. A simple round wooden table in the center of the room, where several other stoppered glass bottles of different sizes and colors rested next to a mortar and pestle. Dozens of stoppered vials filled with different-colored fluids sat in a rack near the side of the table.
An alcoholic. "The cost of brewing my potions is that I have to make my own little sacrifice to the spirits...of spirits.” Her words were slurred, and her gray eyes were bloodshot. Her breath reeked of alcohol. It always did. When he tried to contact her, "half the time you’re drunk off your shit and babbling gibberish."
Always trying to get Brownstone to have sex with her (letting her bare leg slip out of her robe, ran a hand up her robe, lingering on her ample breasts). He never did. She was about as far from his type as he could imagine, and that was saying something considering he didn’t even know what “his type” was.
TUMB 01/7 Brownstone also calls her the "Lush Queen". TUMB 06/3 The Professor might drink for entertainment, but Zoe drank to maintain her magical abilities. However drunk she was, her words weren’t slurred. Most of my customers are either other witches who need specialty potions for their own magic or bored housewives looking for the most minor magic to spice up their lives.
TUMB 02/24 James followed her into the kitchen, having to duck to avoid some of the plants hanging from the ceiling and shift to the side to avoid pots on the floor. Every time he came to Zoe’s house, he was convinced that it was slowly changing from a home into a mystical arboretum. Now he couldn’t spot any actual furniture in her living room. . A bright orange plant sat in the corner; it was several feet tall, and its top was adorned with a single huge orange-red flower. Twitching razor-tipped tendrils surrounded the flower, and an angry fanged maw snapped in the center. “Oh, I don’t know what they call it. The Wood Elf who sold it to me told me I wouldn’t be able to pronounce the name anyway. I just call it Audrey II. It’s very hard to raise, though. It can only be fed small creatures already infused with magic.” Zoe shook her head, trying to focus her bloodshot gray eyes. “And they’ve been cracking down on invasive alien species lately.” She rolled her eyes and blew a few rogue strands of dark hair out of her face. “Those bureaucrats in Sacramento; always standing in the way of an honest woman’s work.”
TUMB 06/3
