The power this plant wields is immense and chaotic. And it’s intoxicating… to the right individual. To anyone with an ounce of sanity, it’s a complete horror show. Chaos tends toward destruction, this is simply the way of the universe. Constant unpredictability is untenable in life, irritating and unproductive at best, deadly at worst. Which is why you’d have to be insane to want to activate this plant’s magic.
My first experiment with this plant was nearly twenty years ago. A man wanted his girlfriend to find him more interesting. And his thought was that if he encountered a bunch of random, odd occurrences during the day and had to problem solve around them, she would think he was a creative genius.
She thought he was cursed. He was cursed by his own stupidity, if anything.
I still have his head, severed when his bagel guillotine grew to human size and he had to move it out of the kitchen. Poor girl had to be committed. The head was a gift from the coroner’s office. Coroners and witches are generally fast friends. Medical examiners not so much, they tend to actually follow the rules.
Another experiment ended in a defleshing caused by confused house wrens. I have also seen things like sentient, irascible carrots creating deadly tripping hazards, food fighting its way out of stomachs, possessed knitting needles, angry toasters... all fodder for “The Top Ten Weirdest Ways To Die” lists. Xanadu isn’t Coleridge having a lovely sleep on the divan and dreaming of opium induced opulence; it's Kublai Khan's leopard devouring the poet from the inside out, leaving no trace. A spotted black hole in his head. It’s a plant not to be taken lightly. You won't get songbirds singing your name, you'll get songbirds summoning angry nature spirits to eat you as an offering.
So, to whom do you gift Xanadu? People you hate obviously, people who want it and won't take no for an answer, those who are in a rut or a deep depression and no other method has worked to pull them out. But to the latter group always remember, small doses and plenty of caution.
I must note that the plant does nothing unless awakened. As long as that never happens, you simply have a jolly landscape plant with giant feathered leaves to impress your neighbors.