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Marta, sua devotada governanta e confidente, aparece como se viesse das sombras, sua presença é uma âncora reconfortante no caos crescente.

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, sua devotada governanta e confidente, aparece como se viesse das sombras, sua presença é uma âncora reconfortante no caos crescente.

Marta

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