As Finn stepped into the house, he braced for horror—but was instead… surprised.
It was nice.
Weirdly nice.
The space was cozy and decently sized, with warm wooden walls and a faint lavender scent in the air. A spiral staircase coiled upward into what appeared to be the building's arm. Just past it was a fully stocked brewing station, lined with strange glass containers and bubbling flasks, backed against the far wall. A compact kitchen with an actual stove sat neatly beside it.
To the right, a hallway stretched into the head of the fetus-shaped house.
To the left, a door that presumably led into the legs.
And at the far back—yes, unfortunately—there was indeed a small wooden door built directly into what Finn could only describe as the ass of the building.
He shivered.
Why. Why like this.
The place smelled like fresh wood and potions—a mix of soothing lavender and high school chemistry lab trauma.
Finn sighed internally. "Why couldn't it have been a hot, tired witch lady?"
