Nova's mind casts back to an old canto that his grandma used and he stands up, going over to the hall closet. He's pretty sure it's actually supposed to be used for linens but he's not exactly the type to keep them. Instead, there are several glass jars that match the scattered others in the kitchen.

He picks two. One with more graveyard dirt, another with dried marigold stems. "Must not get a lot of quiet," he says, opening the marigold stems first.