Jade Fern Grove won't stop the pain, but she'll smell like fabreez

The idea of just sniffing a plant, rather than ingesting it, hadn't seemed too bad. He'd been prepared to nod and agree to trying that out, but then the weeping willow of Blackfeather came to mind. The spores it released didn't need to be ingested in order for the tree to have an effect, they only needed to be inhaled. Xan swallowed and shook his head instead, dismissing the idea. "I don't think that'd work," he'd said, though it wasn't his doubt in the herb that had pushed him to do so. It was his distrust of any sort of herb, whether they were helpful or not. He didn't want to believe that anyone from the group worked for Cicero—he even had evidence to support such beliefs—but he couldn't rid himself of the notion entirely. It lingered, urging him to deny the offer of any and all plants.

Thankfully, she'd nodded in response to his question. Though she didn't seem very enthusiastic about the idea, he'd ignored that bit and moved closer before sitting. He didn't touch her, but he'd crept near enough that a simple shift in positions could change that. "Can you stay awake?" the Inuit asked, curious. He'd woken her up in the middle of the night, so it'd made sense that she'd be tired still, but he didn't really want her to sleep yet.