Sleeping Dragon wildwood

He broke his resilient stare as he went the scratch at his face, giving Lucia a child-like sense of triumph. He couldn't have fought her on the matter forever, and even he had to get that. Fortunately, it seemed as if he knew when to stop scratching. Excessive irritation to the area could spread it or even worse, contaminate it which would lead to infection. Maybe he finally understood why the poison ivy was bad. Maybe, finally, he'd leave it alone. Of course she was wrong.

Hvitserk gestured towards the plant and fixed her with his angry toddler stare. She groaned, suddenly wanting the plant to just burn already, not seeing any correlation to the plant and his mention of Portia. "Look. Poison ivy means itch," she stated. "Poison ivy. Itch. Poison ivy. Bad," she said slowly, gaze switching from the plant to Hvitserk. Did he not get it? He had to get it. Maybe there was something she was missing, but she sure as hell didn't know what that was.