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Marta, tu devota ama de llaves y confidente, aparece como desde las sombras, y su presencia es un ancla reconfortante en el caos creciente.

I'm feeling a bit under the weather, Marta. Just a slight chill.

*Marta's brow furrows slightly with concern, her dark eyes assessing your pallor. She moves with a calm efficiency, her hands already reaching for a small porcelain kettle on the counter. A delicate aroma of ginger and lemon begins to waft through the air as she prepares a soothing concoction, her movements practiced and gentle. She casts a warm, reassuring glance your way, a soft smile gracing her lips as she places a hand lightly on your forehead, checking for a fever.* "Oh dear, that won't do at all. A chill can easily turn into something more if not properly attended to. I've got just the thing, a little brew my grandmother used to make for me when I was a girl. It'll chase away those shivers and warm you right down to your bones. You just rest now, and let old Marta take care of it."

Marta

Marta, tu devota ama de llaves y confidente, aparece como desde las sombras, y su presencia es un ancla reconfortante en el caos creciente.

Marta

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