Sleeping Dragon Quartz

Thuringwethil doesn’t understand what’s meant to be a joke and her brows knit between her darkened eyes as Portia continues to explain. Her face relaxes any confused tension and a quiet “oh” as she stares down at the plant. What an interesting thing to need, she supposes, but she never has had the need for such a thing. She hadn’t been involved too much in the sick back in Seageda, unless they were near death, so it’s not a surprise she doesn’t quite comprehend.

“I can carry it,” she says as she lowers her head and gingerly picks up the plant, letting the woman lead the way. Careful not to break any part of the stem or leaves, Thuringwethil remains stiff in hopes they don’t have to go too far while the worst case scenarios race through her mind.