As he measured, ground, poured, fingers deftly picking out herb after root after flower that she'd never seen--things like them, perhaps, but not these--Nari felt something like excitement uncurl inside her. Something they hadn't tried. Her brow furrowed as she listened to his instructions, committing the steps to memory. Boil, breathe the vapor, drink it when it thickens, along with food. Smoke, or eat.

Nahariel looked a bit longer at the neatly tied stack of packets and the soft blue shine of the pouch, then looked up at their creator with a little wonder. "These plants from your world--they can't be replaced. But you sell them to us all the same. Serannas--my thanks," she said, voice colored with respect for what that meant. After a short pause, she reached back for the satchel slung over her shoulder, "Do you prefer coin? Trade goods?" came the inquiry. By way of example, she retrieved a wooden box with rounded corners from within the bag, the lid carved with a spreading vine-wrapped tree. "I grant my work is mostly decorative, but I do some--" she trailed off, having finally noticed the makeshift plank table beneath the display, and the corner of her mouth quirked up into a lopsided smile. "How about a proper table?"