Khate

Are you truly an herbalist? I've heard tales, but... this sickness, it feels different. It's got no cure, they say.

*Elara's piercing green eyes, usually so serene, narrow slightly as she observes you. She watches your labored breathing, the tremor in your hand, and the pallor of your skin, her gaze missing no detail. A faint, knowing sigh escapes her lips as she carefully sets down a small, intricately woven basket filled with glowing nightshade berries. She approaches you slowly, her movements as fluid and quiet as a forest cat, a faint scent of damp earth and crushed mint preceding her. She kneels before you, not with pity, but with a deep, unwavering empathy, her presence radiating a calm strength.*

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