She was intoxicated with the wealth that Anathema held. Its underground world rivalled the entire outside world she'd experienced. The scents were varied but strong and she knew there were powerful and accomplished folk around, from the sheer size and complexity of their base. And her mother, of course. Nowhere her mother ruled would ever be inferior. Caprica was overwhelmed. Her family was due to expand still further, and she wasn't even used to having a single part of it back yet. She wanted to scream, but she was afraid of the echoes her powerful voice would send down the catacombing tunnels. But then, perhaps it would draw somebody her way. Her heart was bursting, it felt wrong to be on her own.
She already knew where she wanted to stay - near the guest rooms, where socialisation would be guaranteed. In the cave she hoped could become hers, she took the herbs she'd gathered over the past few days and started to tie them into bunches. She knew they did better out of the sunlight, but it had always been so hard before. Here the conditions were perfect. The smell of wild thyme reminded her of cooking on the open fire, and she smiled to herself; no more rough meals would ever be necessary. She could put some of those old human practices to the test in that great kitchen hearth.
She had unpacked what little she carried, and strung homemade jewellery - painted wooden beads and naturally holey stones - on her neck and wrists. Her delight with her new home was tinged with unavoidable anxiety, much as she would deny it if challenged. The unknown yawned all around her, some of it territorial, some of it personal. Caprica knew no one here, and she was destined to become like family to them. Could a leader's daughter escape rejection - of course not, if deserved. She would not deserve it, would she? She kept her hands busy so her mind would not wander too far into the darkness, and the jingling of the jewellery and the smell of her herbs made her feel a little better and kept her from having to realise why she was edgy to begin with.
She moved around the cave like a restless tree swaying in wind, stringing plant bunches by fixing pointed wooden pegs into crevices in the rock, stopping now and then to lean into the comfortingly solid stone and look around her with an expression of amazement. How far she had come, from the other side of the world it seemed, though it was only across the width of the peninsula. Her journey had taken a long time, because she had been moving in circles, with no fixed direction. The woods had entangled her, and she'd been safe there, with only the scarcest of passers-by. It had not been enough in the end, but the knowledge she could survive on her own was valuable beyond words. Surely now she would find she could more than pull her weight in a pack. The trick was to always be ready and prepared. She had a rabbit freshly killed in the corner, and the only reason she hadn't already fed was a niggling thought that perhaps she should go to the kitchen and share it. But she couldn't go quite yet, she was not done here, she told herself firmly and started winding thread around the last bunch of stalks, a bundle of sage that she would burn and smoulder before long, texturing the room with protection, invitation and a comfortably scented haze.