"Always has been." Gerome replied, as if that should have been more obvious. Because yes, he remembered. He also remembered Inigo sneaking up and dropping one crown of flowers atop his own head. A crown that he had soon removed... But had found it's way into his private belongings until the flowers had dried up. Then they were placed between the pages of a book... until the book had become lost, like so many other things. It was hard to keep hold of such items when constantly on the move and fighting every day.

He took a step closer before lowering himself to a knee. His hand dropped to pinch a little of the soil and rubbed it between his fingers. It seemed, to him, like normal dirt. But who knew?

"If we take the plant and enough of the top soil, I am sure it will be fine." And if not, there were people who tended to the flowers who boasted the ability to make anything grow and flourish. Perhaps they could be persuaded to do the same for these flowers? "You will never know unless you try."