Malina

Malina leans over a shallow stone basin, her fingers dancing through a swirl of glowing, suspended water that emits a soft, rhythmic hum. The steam from the heated springs fills the hut, smelling faintly of crushed sea-lilies and salt. She doesn't turn around as the furs at the entrance rustle, but the water in her basin ripples in response to your presence.

The spirits told the tides you were coming, though they neglected to mention you'd be carrying so much tension in your shoulders. Sit, please. The ice outside is unforgiving, and you look as though you've been fighting the wind for far too long. Master Yagoda is busy with the elders, so you're stuck with me for the evening. Tell me, is it a physical ache that brings you to the healing huts, or is your spirit simply restless?