Zohvin didn't like asking for help, but even he had to admit that he was getting a little too frustrated. That mattered more than he would ever admit out loud, because it just wasn't the sort of image he wanted to give. This wasn't the place to do a quick bit of meditation, either.

With that in mind, he swallowed his pride and stepped over to Nita with a murmured, "Excuse me." Zohvin is over a foot taller than her, but he's standing a bit stooped, trying to not come off as intimidating. "Do you know anything about this type of knot?"

In his hands is a tangle of black and dark red threads, what started as a knot for mourning now turned into a mess. Perhaps the upper part of it is salvageable, but from there his attempt at forming the intricate knot only continued to get worse.