Hushed Willows the revelation

The priestess stood still while the other spoke, quiet as wind brushing cross her crown. The soft cadence of her voice held something curious, hesitant cloaked in reason. Hemera did not press; she rarely needed to. Her gaze, warm and ever-seeing, traces the lines of the sirens face, but not judgement settled there; only understanding, quiet and rooted as the bones of earth. There was truth, somewhere in the answer, she could feel it; not full, perhaps, but not false either, a half-lit candle was still a flame.
When the question returned to her, Hemera smiled; light, unbothered, touched by the breeze that teased the feathers of her fur. Her head tilted slightly, a motion akin to a curious bird, thoughtful and mild. She would not reveal too much, not yet; her path was still unwritten. The sandwoman stepped closer, gracefully, the space between the two filled with meaning.
Her answer came as a hymn in gentle twilight; „Nothing yet claimed, nothing yet carved.” plum gaze slipped to the willows that covered the land, „But it will be, in time, by worthy hands.” She then traced the soft curve of her fur, „If you are here, perhaps you are meant to be.” The Lord has guided you to me.