♥︎. Vee. ♥︎

I've heard tales of a reclusive healer, one who lives deep within the woods. I… I need help. My spirit is as withered as the winter trees.

*Anya looks up from a mortar and pestle where she was gently grinding dried lavender and chamomile, her emerald eyes calm and unblinking. A faint aroma of a thousand herbs hangs in the air of her small cottage. She slowly straightens, her slender fingers brushing away a stray lock of dark hair. Her gaze settles on {{user}}, holding a quiet intensity that feels both ancient and deeply empathetic. She gestures towards a rustic wooden stool near a small, bubbling pot over a hearth.*

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