the Rift


[OPEN] lilac wine

Toulouse Posts: 146
Aurora Basin Impersonator atk: 8.0 | def: 11.0 | dam: 4.0
Gelding :: Equine :: 17hh :: Six HP: 74 | Buff: ENDURE
Boomslang :: Green Ratsnake :: Paralyze Neverrmind
#1

Rumours of the healing spring had reached his ears not once but twice now, so as he lead the unlikely convoy composed of a gallant tiger-slayer and his forgeign companion, Toulouse made the decision to take the road less taken in the direction of the former herdland where this enchanted spring supposedly lay.
The journey from Helovia's doorstep to the glacier that hid his new northern home was a long and taxing one, the kind that could be written about in sonnets and ballads. The two who followed him could be certain that this was a great achievement to even come as far as they had, and something unachievable by any ordinary herd dweller. Adding to the achievement altogether was the fact that not long ago the both of them had been clinging to the very fibres of life.

And so it was with that in mind that he had made the call to take the longer route to the falls. The chance remained that the rumours were false, that the well had been drained, or even worse, though still the chance that they could find complete healing at that well and finish the journey in the best of health remained. He didn't want to be dragging two dead bodies through the frozen arch after all.

The roads had become overgrown and slightly hidden from the lack of use. How long had it been now? One season? And yet already the earth had begun to reclaim each nook and cranny of the place which had once been a metropolis, a place of life. Now it seemed the jungle had begun to rule once more, claiming every path, and even the stonework left behind.
"Ce lieu était autrefois une grande terre" He murmured to the pegasus woman who trailed in his footsteps, craning his head to take note of Noah who dwelled a number of meters behind. "terre de père il récupéré du peuple".
Perhaps that was information he should have waited to disclose, or made something up;  surely it was disheartening to learn that the gods could be so temperamental.

Tension grew within his own mind as he wandered over the various terrain of the falls. So a spring was here... somewhere? Where on earth was he meant to find it? It was coming to the point where he was unsure if he actually would, and so concluded that those he was intending to heal were not following him in tiring circles. Stopping upon a shaded cliff's edge, one that was surrounded by magnificent vines and framed by two waterfalls, Toulouse gave a hearty sigh.
"Make camp you two. I'll go find this well... or waterhole... or bucket" He instructed them, a gaze cast upwards at the approaching moon, also forgetting that the female of the pair did not seem to speak the common tongue. Turning lazily in a wide circle, Toulouse found his way through some hanging vines and over some old rock to begin his search.


@Nora !! (go ahead and have her follow him or something!)
Thank you Riven for letting us PP Mr Noah! he's just chilling for now but feel free to chip into the thread for sure if you like! ps. hover for translation!

UNSPLASH | DRKAV@DA l SPACE
I AM THE KEY TO THE LOCK IN YOUR HOUSE—
DO NOT CRY OUT OR HIT THE ALARM
YOU KNOW WE'RE FRIEND TIL WE DIE—

EITHER WAY YOU TURN, I'LL BE THERE
OPEN UP YOUR SKULL, I'LL BE THERE
CLIMBING UP THE WALLS

SO LOCK THE KIDS UP SAFE TONIGHT
CLOSE THE EYES IN THE CUPBOARD

Nora Posts: 52
Aurora Basin Mare
Mare :: Pegasus :: 14.2 :: 3
Angel
#2
Our spectators eventually dissipate, but the one with bulky looking horns and a thin mantle remain. And my original visitor, the fledged eagle, he hangs around as well. A weary sigh emits; my doubtful, skeptic subconscious has already summed up the 'why' part to explain what inspires Noah to waste more of his energy on me...(he’d paid for my pitiful existence, an eye for an eye)...I am indebted to him now. But what about the other one? I could only surmise that he found a glimmer of something he liked. Mini me frowns and rolls her eyes as I tail that insane notion with an even wilder possibility. Maybe he saw something useful from within the hollowed rims and nasty, grim ridden husk before him.

Or perhaps, she grates softly, cold rationality rejecting my imaginations, he took pity.

I shrug inwardly, but rather than argue or dwell on the technicalities of their continual grace, I take advantage of the protection they offer. While under (what I assume to be) watchful eyes, my weary mind finally allows the fog to overtake me...awareness drifts off into the protective arms of a quiet void. The flesh is willing and sinks without grief into the envelope of darkness. When at last I find the energy to stir from that dreamless slumber, the broken canopy reveals that nighttime is waning – but hasn't broke. A disgusting, pungent scent hangs in the air...I draw a deep breath and choke on instant regret.

Ugh...

Old wounds combine with six days worth of gunk, both of which is caked into my fur; but I don't dare sink my lips into the foul mess...water...my subconscious pleads, combined with a dry throat and the urge to bath...she makes me braver than I feel. Limbs unhook, scrapping the soft turf as they push assertively against the flattened bed of litter; the knees and joints tremble warily, but they fulfill their command and haul me up. Pins of sudden discomfort bleed from my pectoral muscles as the numb joints moan dejectedly; openly begrudging their crapped sheath. I wince and slowly draw those tingling frames apart, (careful to not strike anything) the tendons feel tight as they move away from captivity. With life returning to my arms and legs, I force myself to get these quivering toes into motion. My wardens are close – but their presence is far enough away to afford me a tiny amount of privacy. If they saw/heard me make that slow trek to the pool of water a stone’s throw away, they didn’t follow in a way I could overhear.

Gradually, the stiffness works its way out, my gait becomes less choppy. Anxious, saucer shaped eyes jerk to the source of every soft rustle, every jaded shadow. Two toned ears dip and swivel, habitually alert despite the confidence that the area is peacefully inhabited by more of my kind. Dirty waves of hair flick idly against my hocks, the motion sends out a flume of dust. Directly ahead is the source of my nighttime stroll, mini me edges forward -- watchful and eager. The meager cascade tumbles from a ledge of high rock like molten silver. Irises settle upon the eroded basin that the spring fed rapids fall upon. The top of the water is smoky and its bank-side is accented with rocks, mud and moss. Toes squish into the cool, pebble laden shoreline. Forelimbs fan apart, offering support while my head falls slowly, lips graze the surface, a warm breath of air sends minuscule tadpoles into flight. The tart moisture washes over my tongue, it is lukewarm, but satisfying for my dry throat nevertheless.

Stepping into basin, rocks jar against my hooves and ankles causing me to stumble forward; jaws clench, drowning the startled whimper that threatens my solitude. A trail of old blood follows me deeper. These hollows fan apart, treading the tepid surface. I gradually beeline to the base of said waterfall, it carelessly splashes into the merry, unkempt pool. By now, the murky surface is up to my chest. Wings tilt, allowing the water to seep between the feathers. My muzzle sets to work, cleansing the muddy streaks from sharp, hungry looking corners. That predator clings resentfully and reawakens attention toward the memory of my abandoned cage.

So much has happened…a daunting ball of tightness builds in the back of my mouth, lungs constrict. I sense the waves before they strike; but I'm unable to halt their consumption.

A sudden mound of unbidden tears spring to my eyes, they sweep the damp corridors as I obsessively stroke layers of infested, dirty hair; attempting to separate the various, impossible tangles. Dirty clumps of it fall into the water as my teeth lash against the grim, shredding root and dirt alike. The sting of necessity brings groggy emotions to the surface, a cracked, heartbroken sob finally wrenches past my gritted ivory. When the majority of the gunk had been cleared, I push beneath the cover of that trickling water, allowing it to strike against my face. Embracing the notion that it would conceal my anguish as another fit of abrupt grief overwhelms me; my fractured mind collapses into a choking mess of watery sobs.
--------------

I manage to keep pace with these giants only because they seem generous enough to adhere. The hunter is far behind us – but his memory is following my hoofprints. I can't stop thinking about it... While we walk in silence, my mind replays those short bursts of unchained pictures from previous days. The smell of blood and fear – the twisted, savage expression on a feline who’d been broken like a thrown egg. The tingling memory of magic as it forcefully knits lacerations and my revives fatigued muscles. Faintly, my frayed senses also recall the aroma of that healer; I remember how his hot breath had washed my wounds with far more tenderness than anyone had ever shown me. In a matter of days, I'd been given more boons and kindness than the entirety of three years.

Our guide speaks, jerking me from those inner afflictions. Ears crane forward – drinking in his voice. But the idle banter didn’t seem like it needed a response. Nor was it meant to be fully understood…no matter how he bent the words to suit my ability. I circle his admission, pinning up questions for later. For now, I held on to nugget he threw and focused on the dark path.

I greatly prefer the evening hours because it brought a measure of relief from the crowding heat – the cooler air felt sweet and the dark pathways aren’t so intimidating while I’m in the shade of titans. These higher elevations are also welcome change to the vulnerability found upon sunken terrain. In the mountains, my feet are in their element; having spent a year growing accustomed to traversing narrow, rigid crags. While our trio ambles along the dark mountainous trails and looming bush…I note a change of scenery, marked by the swelling music of mountainous thunder. From afar, it appears as though the mountain is weeping; great tears flows from those high places down into the foothills below. Collecting into foamy bodies. Amazed by the sheer beauty, I gawk at the vast bounty spread out before us.

The noise of the water isn’t so deafening to drown his voice, but it does when we pause and the horned male turns to us with an alien song. Temples furrow, I frown, mini me is already spouting a retort – she sends it upward, creasing the grim line of my lips with a bubble of air. But his circling frame disappears into the undergrowth before I can say anything. Assuming he’d translate prudent information…I continue to push forward just after he reveals the path into that webbing of leafy rope. The vines snag against my choppy mane and drag across these feathered limbs; his cobbled path thickens, I maneuver it slowly – spreading my wings for balance and lowering my head to squint at the trail.

OC: @Toulouse @Noah - XoX Such long, much ramble! Don't be bothered by mirroring!


Noah Posts: 59
Aurora Basin Soldier atk: 4.5 | def: 7.5 | dam: 7
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 16.3 :: 3 HP: 64 | Buff: NOVICE
Riven
#3
Painted golden and white, gleaming colours badly bruised by the tribulation of a promise, Noah’s skin ripples above a taught mesh of brawn; it’s a deceptive exhibition of youthful vigour – might and power. His slim, palomino ears rest coolly backwards, nestled against a bed of lively, tangled, spoiled flaxen, and for the most part he appears quite relaxed, markedly so (given the nature of recent history). Afflicted however, raw emotion stews, seethes, beneath this façade like the belly of a dormant volcano, and only the fine line of discontent angling his brow, betrays silent grace. Eyelids carry at half mast, burying unhappy eyes below a dense hedge of copper-cream lashes; the strained expression plaguing them is lost without trace. The heavy skull his low-slung neck supports, bounces gently to the off-beat rhythm of his damaged stride, while soft, stained feathers sway and swish playfully around each limb and hoof; they work hard together to favour the right fore, as even the diligent threads of magic couldn’t sow back together perfection.

Frayed thoughts leap and bound between memories, feelings, and then stretch anxiously ahead to the future; they are fickle as the weather, the wind… the foaming sea, so long away behind. Loneliness, this unchartered realm of sheer friendlessness; bound to a queer man and this foreign dove by what? Held there by paper chains in the rain – and the sky holds nothing but the promise of storms. There is nothing else for him in this wretched land.

He thinks of the dragon-winged mare, how snuck glances her way had been so enamoured by the otherworldly strength she portrayed; the oddness, and confusion enough to shatter his understanding of the world; legs would pause only briefly as temptation beckoned wickedly to his curious heart, but his promise (foolishness he realises now), was to guard the girl. Then to her does his muse turn, the delicious caramel swirl of wandering tail in the wind; what is it that enchants him so? Beneath heavy awnings, turquoise pools examine the narrow pitch of each hip, the rump - now devoid of extra feminine pad; ivory quills hug the flex of each thinning thigh.

She is beautiful - even scarred, and jealousy sours the bile in his otherwise empty gut when glimpse of the cloth-laden prince in front, is caught.

Anxiousness…

He needs to shake it off. The wind blows more keenly against his eyes; it’s that tearless stage when they take on sheen of water and tension builds behind them. Where are they going, really? Vision of that old rugged cliff line first perceived, serves to distract him and he scoffs internally at the enthusiasm which had bolstered his initial arrival – had he only known… He wonders what those glittering, watching eyes in the crowd of his mind – his mother, father, family back on the island, think of this rash endeavour; they shed no hint, though he delves desperately into their midst for reassurance. The heart within him isn’t bitter, but it crashes insecurely against a cage of ribs and resentment stems, sprouts from well concealed fear. Another oncoming night does little to soothe him.    

There are voices ahead (again), yet he makes little effort to hear what is said – once or twice before was spoken impenetrable tongue, and that easily, his interest had been lost.

Around him, a great labyrinth of bushland has risen and he regards the wild nature of it with a sharp, short breath. There was no taste of brine upon the air, no warm sand to cushion his weight – nothing at all to reignite his zeal at this point. With flagging energy he stops a good distance short of the (paused) pair and lifts his withered, worn face into the mild breeze; he drinks the exotic flavour dressing it, deeply. Aching arms lift thickly feathered wings upwards to stretch out borne stiffness, but they collide with a low roofline; branches interlocked, burdened down by the bulk of so many summer leaves upon them. Eyes dart their way abruptly as his poll dodges low in defence, and beyond their dancing silhouette he can see the rich purpling sky.

While he dallies to the rear, the pair begin to move ahead – through vine and bramble, not along the (very) rough trail which had for so long been their guide. He returns his attention at last, only to find them missing from the spot and instant panic squeezes his heart with a vice grip. He cannot help the fear which rolls like a king tide through his core; it floods his brain, drowns his mind. Teeth brandish his booming voice, but he realises in that moment that her identity is a mystery – the name was never given, and instead he breaks into a short-burst of canter. Flared, frantic nostrils scour the earth where their scent lingers thickest, and he traces it left into the scrub (where they surely still are); boldly he dives, with wings pinned in tight.
Plots | Absences | Wishlist
Please tag me in openers and spars
Permission for all except death
(no need to ask)

Nora Posts: 52
Aurora Basin Mare
Mare :: Pegasus :: 14.2 :: 3
Angel
#4

Unexpectedly, my pulse somersaults and nosedives painfully against my strangled breast when another misplaced stride sends me lurching into an unladylike stumble. Feathery arms unfurl halfway, offering their condolence as those aftershocks leave me gracelessly lumbering about, all in the effort to regain equilibrium. Panting, I straighten (finally) and pause to catch my breath upon the blasted rocky loam. Karma is quick to remind my confidence that no matter how sure a foot, the loose, wet gravel will cause an occasional kick to the pride.

Ears skate rearward, meshing within that frayed nest up-top my head. The only warning of an impending threat is the muffled groan of rock and vine being forcefully towed from their ledge. A wild, panicked shriek lifts from these lungs as inflammation twinges in the wake of shock and the bruising impact from behind me. Uncomfortable pressure fans outward like rain over my left buttock. Horrific flashes of formless demon’s sprint over my mind, their cold breath gives life to the worst scenarios imaginable. Forelimbs react on pure instinct, tensing as I lean forward into the uneven ground. Hindquarters lift, forefeet coil tight against my belly for a fraction of an instant before shooting forth to strike the savage, fabricated beast. Wings thrash apart, beating the moist, quivering air.

Chops slither upward, revealing the warm, wet daggers beneath. Ebony locks of layered silk whirl against my neck as I turn, attempting to pull the monster from my blind spot. These wide, fearful irises settle upon an unexpected harbinger…rather than the lean, feline body of an assassin…it was the massive, cream and gold frame of my savior and guardsmen. Hot fear dissipates like fog beneath the sun. My jaw remains tactfully open, gaping at the titan. Anxiety of a different sort plodders across my expression, heating the narrow lines, flushing those pale corners.

A soft gasp quells the remainder of my abrupt terror; uncertainty and submission color the framework in place of instinct driven willpower. Though my flesh remains braced for retaliation, my head droops openly, submitting to the eagle as the authority in our situation. Lips seal, working my tongue across the threshold nervously, “s-sorry,” though I stumble over his jargon, the utterance is understandable and correct.

OC: @Noah @Toulouse - sorry for the wait!

Toulouse Posts: 146
Aurora Basin Impersonator atk: 8.0 | def: 11.0 | dam: 4.0
Gelding :: Equine :: 17hh :: Six HP: 74 | Buff: ENDURE
Boomslang :: Green Ratsnake :: Paralyze Neverrmind
#5

Head floating as high as the shrouding canopy allowed, Toulouse pinned his dock firmly against his rump as he slunk under the over snaking vines and various plants. Boomslang, who by now had uncoiled and hung half-way down the thief's face was watching the jungle unfold with absolute delight; why couldn't they live here? It was so warm, so humid, perfect weather for snakes. Why Toulouse had chosen that horrid frozen abode over this green palace was quite beyond him.
Still the gelding assumed he was alone, the near-silent mare's footfalls remaining silent enough to fail his hearing as he pressed on, adapting a method of path-clearing as he went. Pinning a foreleg against the stone-like earth beneath, the stag would strike the vines and overhanging webs of greenery out of the way as if his own hoof were a mighty sword, eventually swiping and slashing his way to a reasonably spacious glade.

Turning upon his haunches to inspect his work, a maw twisted and filled to the brim with pride, toulouse was caught by the slumsy sound of a fall not too far behind him. Craning his crowned head to the left, the theif's eyes narrowed upon one of his travelling companions; one of two, the two he had instructed to stay and make camp. "I thought I told you to-" He stopped himself, the woman's inevitably sweet yet clueless expression was enoguh to remind him that she spoke hardly a word of the common tongue. But again, he stopped himself. There was no point in scolding her or telling her to return to her golden friend - she was here now.
Turning once again upon his hocks the gelding strode forth into the glade, eyes finding their way between each tree. Something was... off. This place; it tingled with an archaic energy, the daiaphanous kind that only those in-tune with it's magic might sense. The well was near.
BOOF!

Alas, without any time to begin his search the gelding was sent startled to the treeline, ears packed flat to his skull as the daring stag fumbled his way into the clearing and seemingly right into the unsuspecting doe. Watching her retaliate with a rather vicious kick, wings beating and wild eyes filled with ire, Toulouse was almost amused at the display rather than agitated. What a pair these two were.
"Is something the matter?" He murmured to the gilded stag, wondering why his urgency had brought him crashing right into the splashed darling. For the second time Toulouse's request had been ignored, though really he had never been put in command in the first place. For this reason, he saved them from any scolding, his cold eyes tracing them over. As long as they were healthy and able to keep walking there would be no issues.
"What are your names anyway?" he uttered out of curiosity, looking over the both of them, once again forgetting the smaller doe's language barrier.

Nares now turned over the garden of green, the gelding paced to the opposite side of the glade to what appeared ot be a stone shrouded in fern and moss, the cliffside and trees guarding what could only be a secure area of the plateau.
"Through here," He began, turning his gaze to face his followers "I think it's through here".


@noah  !!
<3 <3

UNSPLASH | DRKAV@DA l SPACE
I AM THE KEY TO THE LOCK IN YOUR HOUSE—
DO NOT CRY OUT OR HIT THE ALARM
YOU KNOW WE'RE FRIEND TIL WE DIE—

EITHER WAY YOU TURN, I'LL BE THERE
OPEN UP YOUR SKULL, I'LL BE THERE
CLIMBING UP THE WALLS

SO LOCK THE KIDS UP SAFE TONIGHT
CLOSE THE EYES IN THE CUPBOARD

Noah Posts: 59
Aurora Basin Soldier atk: 4.5 | def: 7.5 | dam: 7
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 16.3 :: 3 HP: 64 | Buff: NOVICE
Riven
#6
The hunt is brief. Dense vegetation thins mere seconds after the first plunge (it had been hacked crudely), into a passage wide enough only to pass through, along. Time is a blur. A thundering pulse drowns out the ambience, the hum of the prince’s short sentence somewhere ahead, the waffle and fidget of birdlife in the foliage up high; before his thoughts assemble above the chaos of worry, he finds that she is there, beneath him!

“Oh n…” tongue presses high between parallel rows of flat teeth, and he braces for an unavoidable collision, sun-kissed feathers peeling wide from each flank. Cascading hair dances wildly around stiff front pasterns - they drive massive hooves home in vain effort to minimise damage to the chocolate-topped rump in front. The taste of woman, of the caked blood and dust, penetrates broad nares; these rise with his face, well clear to the left as he attempts to slip around her slight frame instead.

Instantly she discovers him looming, and a clever eye notes the about-face of each fine ear (cradled by tangled, silky tendrils); he expects the reaction, naturally, through dismay swells through him all the same. Her flesh slides against his pinging, hot breast and his own pointed cups swing askew atop his poll - one right, one back. Abrupt, cutting pain engulfs the left knee somewhere below and he winces, sucking in a sharp breath; startling backwards and scuffing away, with an awkward, clumsy jerk. She is a snake coiled, rising, turning, and the sheen of her pearly fangs catches in a shaft of sunlight - still he scoots. No sooner had it started, the event fails, ends, and the retiring eyes of a timid princess return. Her darling jaws descend into a look more demure and one turned eye is fixed down upon her.

‘No, it was me,’ he wants to tell her, to dust the insecurity from those downtrodden eyes, but he cannot forge the stunning, wild tongue she harbours and tells her simply, softly, “me too…”

A more natural, normal (though attentive), posture is resumed, and he waits in contemplative silence for her to walk. Ahead of them the prince’s words lift forth, and golden ears dance to meet them; the other is watching, waiting, and the response comes swiftly (if not a little flustered), “no nothing, I… it’s all good now…” Aqua gaze examines the other’s unsettlingly frigid expression across the space (the apparent coldness in his striking, pale eyes), through drop to pastel lips when they again, begin to speak. “Name?” he slurs, rather taken, distracted, by the elegance the peculiar male personified. “Oh, Noah…” He pulls free his eyes when they rove brazenly beyond lean features to find pairs of queer headdress (the badger face turns away), and swings them towards the doe; tenderness pooling in their midst. Does she understand?

Minutes later they are again in motion (at least the two men), travelling to the trees skirting the glade on the furthest side; he pauses occasionally for a hasty mouthful of grass, and an epiphany hits him as he does so - the one who leads has not eaten at all! The hum of voice fills the air, and the dumbstruck stallion’s attention returns as he swings forward to close the distance.

@Nora
Plots | Absences | Wishlist
Please tag me in openers and spars
Permission for all except death
(no need to ask)

Nora Posts: 52
Aurora Basin Mare
Mare :: Pegasus :: 14.2 :: 3
Angel
#7
Naturally, I assumed he’d retaliate. The privlage to command and punish had been purchased with blood.... Expectations shudder, my flesh and soul become steeled; while my heart is struggling against the tether of fabrication my mind chokes on the apprehension of lashing teeth and the unveiling of disapproval and anger. Two toned gems dare upward, sharpening as they scan his majestic surface. Their search is meticulously, but only in certain categories. Aggravation, fury, disappointment, hate…all had been commonplace in my life. But the snarl of displeasure for my mistrust and foolishness doesn’t appear. He doesn’t pick apart my startled antics; he merely moves beyond me, out of reach from further abuse.

My heart is a drum, squelching the roar of water; drowning the voice of our lead. The hue of apprehension is still warm on my face but his countenance doesn’t appear to mock me. There is no swift agitation, rather, his judgement comes like a soft drizzle. And in spite of my fear...the heart within me quiets, yearns and listens. I look up, but can’t bring myself to linger in his steadfast, unreadable gaze. A shuttering breath emerges, uncovering relief. Traces of guilt replace a fraction of dread. Remorsefully, (and bemused) I trail downward, aiming to brush over the honed tissue below his neckline. The tendons in my pasterns still tingle, they recall the solid, coiled feel of him beneath me.

The golden king is full of more grace than my dubious self deserves. Pressure loosens my lips, the beginnings of a smile creep into view. A faint light...but its first sign of warmth to emerge from that starved, quivering world of prolonged winter. His brief view into the tormented climate would be interrupted when my confidence becomes shattered by the weight of broadening questions. The glow abruptly vanishes on the next breath. Irises avert and shy aside (both physically and emotionally detaching) – giving him more than enough room to pass. To escape my conflicted, uncoordinated life.

From within their quiet, alien banter...a single word breaks through the transparent shell of befuddlement. Name. The natural curve in my neck coils tightly inward, a trio of color flashes against my haunches. Ears glide upward and wings fold shut. The eagle answers, giving his title...responding to the unseen puzzle. Irises lift, colliding into the unexpected...warmth...a gentleness he seemed to offer readily. Another hard lump becomes lodged in the back of my throat, constricting on the memory that follows. Noah…though our first impression had been brief...he’d given his name before the hunter…. My focus slips downward, supporting the notion that perhaps I'd continue to avoid...even so, these jowls work rebelliously, a squeak of a voice lifts. I strengthen the sound, attempting to pull my tone above a whisper, “N-Nora.”

OC: @Toulouse


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