Plans are made to be broken, perfect ideas in boardrooms dissolving in the sands of crisis, of Nassian plight. Without Myathriri, not a single one of you able to catch a glimpse of her in return, you keep going. Speak, blink yourself back to activity and reality and utility. You have missed so much, whilst you were gone.

[[turnsheet_sharing:thress:5:fuoco_fatuo|All you can do is ask what you always have.]]