Nita nods, attention briefly held by the new trees before she extends her own hand forth.

Palm up, cupped a little to aid her end, she mutters in the Speech - a gentle beguiling of up. It doesn't take much to have the crystals up-and-out, petals safe and sound.

"There," she says, once the crystals are safe in her hand.

"Are we supposed to bag these, or hand them off directly?"