Zita nods in agreement. She soon dismisses the shield and it vanishes with ease, allowing the plant to be exposed to the cool air of the gardens now.

Usually, Zita would stay quiet and allow the proceedings to continue without question. But- "If I may say something," Zita says, bowing her head in deference. "Where I'm from, it's a tradition to leave a ribbon made from your clothing when making a tribute to someone who's..." She pauses, trying to be delicate with her word. "...departed."

"If you'd allow me- I would like to make a tribute to your mother."