[The quiet returns for another moment longer as she lets Shiro's question linger, the weight of his hand at her shoulder a familiar comforting presence. Her gaze remains looking outward, watching as their lanterns drift together.]

I...do not know.

[Her voice is quiet, and she feels small for a moment, not knowing why she feels sad about recounting a happier time and fond memories of lighting candles with her father.

Each time she seems to reach for Altea, it seems to float further and further away, and she's not sure if anyone else here would understand that. She feels she's found her people again, in Oriande, with Lotor, but now here and separated from that ability her father had passed down to her--

She looks to Shiro, but not before swallowing her melancholy and putting on a smile to show that everything is fine.]

I...think it would be too difficult to recreate here. But the thought itself is pleasant enough. [She looks back out towards the lanterns.] I had thought about my father and Altea when making my lantern.

The same sentiments are there, just in a different tradition.