Her heart heavy with sorrow and loss, Ziva spent much of the day sat behind her desk at her Headquarters, staring, not at the papers on the shiny surface, but into the flickering flames of the fire that had been burning night and day in the fire place for most of the harsh, cold winters months. A tear would occasionally run down her cheeks, although being in a slight state of shock, she more often than not made no motion to wipe it.

She knew the ways of the mob world, of course. More than understood them, lived them, had had her family live them. But sometimes, even knowing the ways of the world is little consolation, when faced with the loss of a friend.

She thought back, to the days of her great-grandmother, the first Ziva. She and Penquin, the newly departed Godmother of The Loop, had sang songs to each other in the streets.

Suddenly, the perfect tribute to Penquin sprang into her mind. She would somehow sing one final song, her farewell to Penquin.

Grabbing a blank piece of paper and a pencil, she sits, allowing music, melodies and lyrics to flow through her mind, occasionally scribbling something down or crossing something out, humming a tune here, singing a line softly to herself here and there.

Finally, several hours later, Ziva decides she is happy with her finished song, and wraps herself up, dressed in black as a sign of respect, before heading out into the streets of Chicago, close to where gossip and rumors had been traded on the take down of Godmother Penquin and Godmother Viene, just a little way down the street from where the daughter of Penquin had said a few words herself.

She stands in the shelter of a building, and clears her throat to attract the attentions of passers by.

Shyly, fighting the tears, she begins to speak.

Ladies and gentlemen.

Today, I lost a great friend in Penquin, and Chicago and Detroit tonight mourn the deaths of many of our own. I know as well as anybody that death is an inevitable part of our way of life, however, the death of Penquin in particularly has brought me great sadness.

So, it is with the journals of my ancestors which document a history of songs being sang between my bloodline and Penquin herself, in mind, that I step out this evening.

The song is merely a tribute to a friend; not a question on why the take down took place. I'm sure that the relevant Godfathers involved will provide an explanation at some point in the near future, hopefully, if they deem it appropriate to do so.

I'll repeat: This is a mere tribute to a friend. Nothing more, nothing less, nothing political.

Please, enjoy.

(OOC: The song the lyrics are set to.)

Every song you made,
Every fish you ate,
Every auth you made,
All the swims you'd take,
Penquin, I miss you!

On the streets each day,
All the speeches you'd make,
The quizzes you'd create,
The banter you'd causate,
Penquin, I miss you!

Oh, mafia, can't you see,
My heart belonged to she!
Nobody can ever be as fabulous as Penquin.

Every song you made,
Every fish you ate,
Every auth you made,
All the swims you'd take,
Penquin, I miss you!

Since you died, my hearts been lost without a trace,
When I dream tonight, I'll only see your face,
Not even Cab_Tufting can replace,
The Loop is empty, I miss stopping by your place,
I miss my Penquin, GODS PLEASE!

Every song you made,
Every fish you ate,
Every auth you made,
All the swims you'd take,
Penquin, I miss you!

Reaching the end of her song, Ziva digs in her pocket for a tissue, to wipe the tears that have been flowing more freely than they had earlier on.

Rest in peace, Penquin. You'll be missed.

Roquelaure listens to the amazing song that Ziva had written for Penquin and she bows her head a bit.

Ziva. Penquin and a lot of those that died early this am were all very good people, and will be missed by a lot. I'm sure even those that were the aggressors would say the same thing.

Death isn't ever an easy thing to deal with, but sadly it's a part of this thing of ours. She raises her head a bit and sighs.

Sleep well to all those that had fallen. Rest in Peace

She takes a sip of a flask she had and nods a bit before slipping back down the street.