In this caverned home, she has retreated, grown accustomed to the solace of her nature retracting into itself upon repeatedly finding that interaction with the human world was less than comforting.
She had the minimum to survive, here, and each room had a purpose within which she could continue to focus and hone her talents – from domestic and family, to creative expression, to far-seeing scrying.
In this particular room with the natural-formed stone slab-like table, she stood with her back thighs against it and her hands clasped behind her, leaning back a little as her face turned up to the sunlight filterng in a bright shaft to bathe her upturned face with eyes closed in its glow.
She sent out a call with her body-mind’s spirit, asking for him to find her – aware of the distances involved and all of the barriers’ inclinations to keep them from igniting their purpose together, and instead, growing old.
Candid Corvid Productions 