I offer no resolutions nor quarrel. I simply exist as usual; survival is as natural as the passing of seasons for me. Any suggestion I have is a personal one. Conceal information, broker it for trade. Knowledge will be your gilded shield, the fool you play your sole ally.

[ she waves a hand dismissively, then motions to conceal herself with the cloak she donned, her silhouette like the shadow of a ironwood in the desert, long and amorphous and obscured. she looks away, distancing herself from the situation at hand. ]

I have no stock in who survives and who does not. If you wish to live, you should feel similarly.