Are █ou all ██still t███re?

Nassians, yes, but River-climbers, too. Orchestrans here and there. Forms all strange, names moreso, unfamiliar combinations and imagery.

Are █o█ all still saf█?

Overpopulation. Without Yellowburn the sprawling cities can only let their inhabitants climb so high; the River-climbers, a people of upward growth rather than Nassian horizontal expansion, reach for the stars, yet cannot make it there alone.

Ca██ I help?

You wish you could offer them some Yellowburn, but without it, the fractures of yourself could not keep tempo, slower-than-light inter-communication tantamount to death. You’d be adrift, again. A hundred separate Thressali’s.

How can I ██l█?

Shuffling of resources, monitoring of nature as new inhabitants trample it, protests and arguments and stubborn people to drag before a campfire. Nassians and River-climbers squabble, greater divide than even a quake, this time. Try to bridge it, connect the dots. Just try.

You press it all away and let the voice you knew in Ilcavith step in, a scout-leader's steady reassurance. An echo of a time when you still thought you could save the world; empty platitudes, comforting peace.

(—thou█ht ████ all, █efore?)

Thress has always tried to make people understand one another, hasn’t she? The best of us; ah, denial. The only way to function.