[Nobody has warned Silas that the flowers might give off a suspicious pollen.

Even if they had, maybe he would assume it wouldn't work on him, Druid constitution and all. He's been going about cupping his hands around blooms and holding each close under his nose, smelling the fragrance fully. Each is so unique and uncanny! The flowers on his head are relaxed open, matching the at ease look on his face]

Aah, can we just stay here? How peaceful... [he speaks wistfully and to the air, sounding rather lightheaded and wobbly. Maybe shoving his face into flower after flower isn't a wise idea.]