[Maybe it shouldn't be, but it is. We deal with the world we have. As terrible as it may be. The worlds do not have enough mana to sustain them; the Renegades are long destroyed; Botta has lost an arm in Yuan's service; Kratos's mana may be permanently scarred.]

[They must needs deal with all these things. As they are. It's the job of idealists to look ahead to what could be.]

[Yuan mirrors Kratos's breath as reminder to keep doing that, conscious of it. Conscious of their mana and the movement, or lack thereof. And he ignores the question Kratos didn't quite mean to send.]

[Right now he has no answer for it. The latter, however, he does. Yuan closes his eyes to focus a little closer, just to confirm, and answers. Your circulation's still off. Catching-- a pressure, I think. Perhaps like a dam. I can't tell if it's back and chest or just at your back. There's a brief silence with the hum of Yuan thinking to himself, a busy press of consideration, before: Not burnt out, I think. But clogged.]