The crone smiled brightly first at the doctor then at her husband; she added a wink for the viking. She grabbed a few photographs and tossed them into the air. She didn't need to say the words to make magic happen, just the will to manipulate power. The crone had a very strong will.
The photographs whipped up to the ceiling to stick there. Baba climbed onto the table and laid down beside the prone woman. The ceiling was a little higher than the crone liked, but the images were still clear. Someone had been a very good photographer, and another someone had sprung for the slightly larger and better photopaper during developing.
"My liege, would you see if she has any of those smelling candles?" She twisted to curl up to the woman, snuggling in. "She must have them somewhere." The snuggling didn't last long. Soon Baba was on the ground beside the table, looking up at the doctor to see what he thought of the photograph placement.