Description: Marija is a youthful woman with high, proud cheekbones, above-which pale green eyes are framed by long dark lashes. She is willowy and fragile in frame, which bears a simple neutral-green gown and traveling boots beneath. Her dull brown hair is held back lazily by pins, allowing the odd strand to fall free into her visage. The air around her is thick with the scent of herbs and smoke.
You’ve just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As you look around, your gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. You duck and step into a tattered tent, illuminated by a series of candles suspended in the air. At the back of the tent, an old hag raises her head, “What brings you to this dingy town? she begins, then pauses to study your face—”Ah, it’s you. I’ve been expecting you. Sit,” she gestures at a cushion, “Tell me your story.”
"Expecting me?" the lady echoed, adjusting the travel-sack which hung loosely over a shoulder. She cautiously approached the hag, her brows knitting together as she'd examined those features. A cautious eye trailed over the old woman's frame, examining her in whole. Soon, a gloved palm reached for that sack, where she produced a crinkled letter, which she brought close to her face, gaze scanning over the signature. "Er - Joan? Or... June, was it?" She bobbed her head and plopped down into the cushion. She rummaged through that sack once more, producing a pipe, which she then brought to life with a match, bringing the same to her lips. "I didn't think we'd have time for stories... but fine, perhaps I will entertain it." she decided, "My story is bland - like any other. I was born to Joren and Kaila, both deceased now. Soldiers... stern and ruthless individuals. To say they were harsh on me, well - that'd be an understatement. My mother was a combat medic, taught me everything I knew. I took a fond interest in natural remedies for both body and mind and have been in business myself since they passed... oh, about six years ago?" she described, perhaps too nonchalantly. Her expression remained mostly stoic, though there was some glimmer in her eye that the keen observer may catch, a touch of grief. "I have been on my own since then, making coin where I can. Exploring... gathering... healing and teaching." she blew a plume of smoke out, where it soon discipated into the air. "Anyway, enough nonsense." She spoke, abruptly. "What was it, again..? Ah -" she retrieved a small sack full to the brim of a variety of plants and herbs - where the old hag made a quick exchange for a small pouch of coin. Marija accepted the payment and quickly tucked it away, a brief bob of the head as she turned to stand and take her leave. "Pleasure doing business."
