Chamera had given Jeron a courteous warning before touching him. Any anxiety, fear, and humiliation he expected upon Chamera's care froze in the wake of that one simple line. Not even Maura had thought to pay heed to his personal space in such a way. Though he never minded with Maura, Chamera's compassion for the situation touched him. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had did anything so kind to him. Of course, Chamera had rescued him when she didn't need to, but she had still regarded him with fear, still saw him as some sort of monster, still expected that he would betray her great risk and sacrifice in a way appropriate for a Drow. 

This situation, however, was wholly different. There was a softness to her tone that one would never use towards someone they feared. The mere presence of the statement meant that she was aware of how uncomfortable Jeron felt about the this situation, and instead of ignoring it or belittling his reaction, she chose to acknowledge and respect his situation. Respect. That was something Jeron thought he would never receive. Though he wasn't foolish enough to assume that Chamera now respected him, he at least appreciated her capability to respect the moment. It would be a moment he would cherish.

Jeron nodded only once, a brief and awkward gesture, though it felt good to actually give consent to something without using force or fear.

The pulp against his wounds stung; Jeron concentrated on drawing in his breath slowly through his nose to keep from making a sound. It was supposed to hurt; it meant that Chamera had chewed the weed enough for the juices to be effective. For once, the pain didn't force upon him the horrific memories of his earlier experiences in captivity. For once he did not tremble in dread of the next lash of pain, wondering if it would be the last thing he'd think and feel. This pain was born of the necessity and promise of healing, so he would endure it and more knowing that it meant he would feel better and stronger in the morning.

Jeron could tell by the pressure of Chamera's fingers against his wounds that she was trying to be careful. It reminded him of those carefree evenings as a child, when Maura would tend to him in a similar manner.

[i]"You need to stop falling off trees, silly. Soon you'll be one big, walking bruise."[/i] He could still remember Maura's soft giggle and the warmth of her hands as she pushed her healing magic into his bruised limbs. He never told her that he had gotten his bruises from his mother, afraid of Maura's reaction towards him if she found out that he was so vile of a child that his own mother needed to beat him. As they got older, he knew that Maura knew what was really happening, but she would still smile, touch his bruised skin with glowing fingertips, and tease him about falling off trees.

Jeron squeezed his eyes shut, controlling his breathing to hold back more than just the pain now. He felt very, very grateful that Chamera said nothing throughout the ordeal.

It occurred to Jeron that he should probably do something thoughtful for Chamera in return, but what? He had nothing to give her, nothing kind to say to her... His mind still mulled over the slim possibilities when she offered to bandage him up. He blinked, embarrassed that he had been caught off guard, and glanced warily over his shoulder towards her. "N-no, I'm fine," he muttered before gingerly tugging his tunic back down over his body. He probably should take up her offer, but he didn't want to be exposed longer than necessary. He did, however, manage to pause long enough to murmur a very soft "Thank you," not caring if Chamera heard him or not.

His stomach growling, Jeron decided he could be "kind" by finding something to eat. It was too dark to look for berries, he was too weak to hunt, it was too dangerous to search for water. Perhaps he could find some mushrooms to go along with the edible weeds and moss he had found. It did not occur to him that Chamera could have food in her infinite bag of holding, not at all used to asking anyone for anything or expecting anyone else to make his life easier in any way. So, he began to forage, brushing aside fallen leaves in search of anything to eat. It was not long before his aimless searching brought him near the human, Chamera's companion. He paused his search, in a crouched position as he lifted his gaze to examine the man more closely. Out of habit, he tugged at his cowl to ensure that his head was properly covered as he scowled, his eyes narrowed. The man's skin was deathly pale, his breathing shallow; Jeron wondered if he would survive the night. The half-drow wanted him to survive so he could learn magic, but this man seemed to be a dear friend to Chamera. However, there was nothing Jeron could think to do to help this man, not accustomed to helping others in this way.