There is an ancient woman, her figure bent but still dignified. Her hair is silver and she is dressed entirely in black. She is sitting on a chair of dark wood with handrests but no cushions. In her arms is a baby of no more then six months old. The baby is swabbed in white and is laughing, reaching chubby hands up toward the old woman's face. The old woman is staring directly at you, her eyes full of Time. A matron of perhaps thirty is standing slightly behind the chair and leaning over it. She is dressed entirely in red and has dark brown hair that is pulled up off her face in an intricate braid. She is looking over the old woman's shoulder at the baby. At the old woman's feet reclines a young girl, somewhere between ten and twenty. She is dressed in a green skirt and tunic with green boots. Her golden hair is unbound, long, and flowing. One of her hands is up on one of the handrests on the chair and she is looking upon the old woman, the baby, and the matron. All around them is grey. Only the old woman knows you are there and she stares at you with black, knowing eyes.