Me and the dragon can chase all the pain away.
The greenhouse in Nagrand is a veritable forest of flowering plants, herbs, weeds, from common peacebloom to rare strains of icecap. Admittedly, though, he's always had some trouble with species that require high humidity; sometimes a journey abroad to gather wild specimens is in order. For this project he's ventured out into the water-fields of Zul'drak where the poppies grow tall and strong despite the blight around them.
Their flowers are brilliant things, purple and violet-blue as opposed to the carmine he'd expect of southern poppies, but those aren't what interest Oriseus this time. The ripening seed pods left behind when that brilliance fades are of far greater value - their milky resin, the blood of dreams drained from the poppy's swelling womb.
People have been coming to him for years now for this. Gentle potions to heal wounds, sedatives to soothe nightmares away, resins that burn into levity in the lungs, sacred hallucinogens and drugs to make the visions stop. They seek him out to be their monster and their saviour - begging ways to forget their pain from the one who can't not remember his own.
And he gives it freely.
With days of patience behind him the alchemist shapes and packages this precious brown resin in small doses, each wrapped in paper, tied off with twine. Half a dozen cubes of bliss, nestled in a box.
This isn't necessary but it is merciful. The least he can do to atone for bringing so much suffering into the world is to offer relief where he can.
At last he pens a letter on the same delicate paper, to be folded up and tucked into the box for delivery. This, too, is unnecessary, but merciful: a seed of truth within the dream.
M,
This will not heal your wounds but will, at least, make them bearable.
Please keep in mind that this merely lets you forget the pain for a while -
but the wound will still be there.
I wish you a swift recovery.
-O