The mood is all wrong for it, but Sonia's expression flickers just slightly at Tucker's remark, the very beginning of a smile. But mostly she's just sober as the father nods briefly at Tucker so that they can lift the coffin together, Sonia supporting one end as they carefully low it into the simple grave. The mother bursts into a fresh round of tears as Sonia quietly hands the shovel to the father, who nods in grim thanks.

It's the kind of sad that leaves you feeling hollow and gutted out, space you can't fill again, and Sonia's stomach flutters uncomfortably as Hera's grave is slowly filled with dirt. The earth she came from. Barrayarans are atheists, mostly, but she knows they still believe in the power of family, of blood and earth.

She nods slightly at Tucker and moves toward the brazier, setting it up properly near the edge of the grave. It's simple, nothing but a few coals and a hand torch, and a small, sharp-looking knife.

"For the death offerings," she offers in explanation as she combs through her hair and curls one little lock around her finger. "We burn offerings in honor of the dead. Pieces of ourselves. It's...an important tradition." Tradition is the wrong word, but Sonia just picks up the small knife and cuts off that small piece of hair, dropping it into the brazier.