Ah, Puerto Rico... It's a long way from the New York Archipelago. Even so, many natives to this great island have emigrated, and ended up in the Big Apple itself. Needless to say, sometimes this happens in reverse.
This coast is rocky. Beneath it, there are cave openings. Some of them are completely submerged. Some require diving gear to penetrate. Rumor has it that piracy had great use for these caves back in the day, when ships' engines were called "sails." Rumor also has it that some pirates' hoards remain to be discovered. This seems unlikely... But if it inspires, then who's to criticize?
Atop certain cliffs out here, there are beacons. They're often dormant. Sometimes, a certain resident lights bonfires in them. She lives nearby...in one of the most unlikely homes you could imagine...as much as some fashionistas would love to.
Nearby, a Santa Fe-esque estate stands atop a rock...near the wind, but not too close to the sea. Its walls are white, and its roofs are of pink/magenta tile. On the surface, it looks like someone worked hard and long to erect this. In truth, though, it's literal magic.
Deviously, a pair of pruners levitates through the eaves of the garden, and prunes the plants on its own. They're enchanted...as is the lady of this estate.
Inside, the floor vacuums itself. The bathrooms clean themselves. The laundry does and folds itself. And yes, the bills pay themselves...
Upstairs, Carrie Bradshaw is a pubescent witch. She's originally from East Long Island, one of the eight inhabited New York Islands...and the easternmost of them all. Her mother died of cancer when she was much younger. Or rather, that's the story she was TOLD...
She knows the real story of her mother now, of course. But it's a bit high-tech for one paragraph, so we'll come back to it later.
Carrie lies on her chest on a magenta couch, surfing a fashion magazine. She smiles, as she does so. All around her, the latest trends in fashion levitate. It's unclear as to which ones of them are actual material possessions in her name, and which ones are bewitched illusions. As selfish as we all know Carrie can be, though, it seems more likely that most of these are magically-induced illusions.
For Carrie, life is good. This is SO much better than the cheap life her father led for her and her little Gothic sister back on that unfair-weathered island in the New York Archipelago...
Seriously; Carrie's father was the fucking Reverse-Flash in an alternate reality. SURELY he could've done better for his family; maybe even stolen the Spear of Destiny, and used it to rewrite reality to where Carrie's dream comes true twenty years ahead of schedule, or something...
Across the room, an Iranian hookah levitates. It keeps levitating, as Carrie waves her hand, and lights the weed inside with a spell. With another spell, she levitates the hose up to her mouth. She's so close, now...to her first whiff of hookah weed...illusory or real...
Downstairs, someone knocks. In a flash, Carrie teleports down to the front door. Lucky for her, the door is solid all over; her visitor doesn't see her suddenly appear out of nowhere.
To make herself descent, she conjures a pink camisole around herself. Once that's done, she unlocks the door with a spell, and opens it manually.
The boy at the door takes her breath away. She can't see his ass from this angle...but she SO wishes she could...