thespaceopera: (hello)
Voices from Heaven ([personal profile] thespaceopera) wrote in [community profile] driftfleet2015-10-20 11:18 am

...And also these.

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  • cajunspice: (>))

    [personal profile] cajunspice 2015-10-25 10:34 am (UTC)(link)
    [That stopped him, bringing his attention to the fact he was moving around, and Remy tried to casually brush it off what he was doing.] Just lookin' 'round. [As if to make a point, he pushed open another of the doors to the shelving, raising a brow at the contents.] Got a lot of weapons 'round cherie.

    [Reaching into the shelf, Remy pulled out the handgun he found inside, going through the normal checks to see if the safety was on and slipping the clip out of it to check that it was safe to handle.]
    touchofrogue: (I See | Meditation | My Path)

    [personal profile] touchofrogue 2015-10-25 03:42 pm (UTC)(link)
    Now, when ya say 'a lot,' what are ya--

    [But then he touches the handgun, and the room around them fades. Remy is pulled into a scene as the invisible third party. He will be able to see Rogue and... is that himself? interact, but he won't be able to stop what's happening. Additionally, he will be clued into Rogue's feelings and thoughts, her reasons... but this is not entirely an experience from her point of view. It is more like watching a DVD with commentary.

    They are in a village, technologically a little more advanced than Luceti, but one that has been clearly ravaged by war. Rogue is leaving a hospital, a determined look on her weary face. The smell of death and antiseptic is heavy. She is focused, guns strapped to her sides, hair up in a messy ponytail as Gambit himself falls into step beside her. At first, she doesn't even appear to notice...


    You lift up one hand and rub your chest, over your heart, over the patches in your uniform there. Your fault. If you hadn’t touched him in an instinctive move to keep from dying, then maybe Logan would have been able to fight the virus. Maybe his mutation would have given them what they needed to find the antibodies. Maybe… maybe… but now, he is a ravaging, snarling shadow of himself, and all you know is that you are not going to abandon him here. You are not going to leave Tony to die as he waits for a cure for Pepper, waits by her side and watches the woman he loves be stolen from him bit by insidious bit. There is a man out there, Korras Blake, and in his body he has the antibodies they need to make the cure that will save Logan, save Pepper, and in doing so save Tony, save you, because you are not leaving them. You are not leaving Logan to die here like this. You are going to find Korras Blake and bring him back or die trying.

    Armed as best you can and cursing that your powers are off, you barely even notice as Remy LeBeau falls into step with you. Not even he looks untouched by the hardships of the past few days, and for the first time since you’ve known him, he looks tired. You spare a thought as to how you must look, but then dismiss it. This is war, not a beauty contest, and you have someplace to be.

    “You're a sight for sore eyes, Rogue. Heard the news yet?”
    “Depends which news you're talking 'bout.”
    His gaze focuses on the tears in your uniform, the three marks over your heart, and you can see him start to wonder as his brow furrows. “That they're bombin' the hell outta this place. What other news's floatin' around that I oughta know about?“
    Oh, that’s right. The bomb, the countdown, the fact that if you were still here when it went off you were going up in smoke with the rest of them. “Korras Blake. We're all pretty damn sure he's the survivor of the last plague. We find him, get him in here, an' maybe there's a shot at a real cure, not just somethin' ta help you keep your mind.”
    “An' how close are we to findin' this guy anyway? 'Cause seems like we runnin' outta time at this rate.”
    “Not sure.” You shake your head. “Headin' out ta look for him now”.
    “I'm goin' wit' you, then.” He gives you a serious look, the kind you’ve rarely seen from him. Just once before when it was his father’s life that was at stake. “Ain't the time to be runnin' around solo, chere.”
    You sigh. You haven’t seen him at all during this draft, and you’re not sure how you feel about any Johnny Come Lately. “Don't ya have any bettah place ta be?”
    “Other than somewhere they ain't droppin' bombs on later? In any case, I got a feelin' this is the jus' the place I'm s'posed to be right now.”
    You’d ignore his reference to the bomb except -- no. It didn’t fit. So. “So why haven't you up an' got yet? Didn't take ya for the type to just get blown up.”
    He fixes you with a stubborn look you know to be the match of your own. “Gettin' blown up ain't part of the plan. But there ain't much point in leavin' 'til I know I'm not jus' gonna spend a week keepin' an eye out for everyone else who stayed here.”
    You stare at him for a long moment, frowning. He’s got a look to him that you’ve never quite seen before, not fully, but just now it looks like something you can depend on, and you appreciate that. You let him come with you.

    He stays with you, and you’re glad for it. Gambit’s a good man to have in a corner, and you both agree to head toward the mountains. You’re tired as hell, desperate, with the guilt of Logan's continued pained existence weighing heavy on you. You’ve seen Tony already today as well, and he was dying right along with Pepper... not to mention the little girl you practically had to mug a doctor for just so she'd have a chance at life.

    You need to find this bastard and bring him back. Your focus is a sharp, pinpointed beam buoyed by your determination. You fall in to cover his five and begin to make near-silent progress toward your goal… at least until you are cut off. Zombies to the left of you… and more zombies - shit, Elites, shit - to the right. They’re closing in fast and you don’t have the ammo for this and maybe you both can outrun them -- and you try -- but not for long. Do zombies climb trees? Is that something you want to find out right now? You run, making good time away from the zombies chasing you which would be great if you weren’t running straight into three dozen other zombies. There was no way out of this with just guns and running, you have to think, have to come up with something else, what else do you have think, think--

    Out of the corner of your eye you spot something that might work, might just provide what you need for a desperate final stand. “9 o'clock. See that - ledge?” You don’t know how far it drops down, but it’s enough to give you the kernel of a plan. “C’mon!”

    You both take off running toward it; he gets there first and you don’t hesitate, vaulting in after him. It’s a long drop, but you know how to fall. You’re blessedly out of the zombies line of sight now, and maybe you would get lucky and they would just… pass you by. Your hand fumbles at something on your belt just in case you’re not lucky. Maybe, maybe…
    shit. No. They’re still coming.

    You unravel the cord and look at Gambit. You know your eyes are wide and scared -- death by zombies was so not on your bucket list. “We’re gonna die here.” You meet his gaze.
    And he meets yours. And he tucks a strand of escaped hair gently back behind your ear, and suddenly he is so close and doing that thing that drives you crazy, that ‘look how close I can get without actually touching you’ thing and even though it was still aggravating, just the fact that he was here, looking at her like that, and here made the thought of what was about to happen a little easier to bare. You wet your lips, needing to impart the plan quickly, “Look, Remy--”
    “Rogue.”
    And suddenly his lips are on yours and, well. Isn’t that something?
    A very, very good something. You are not sure how long you kiss him, and part of you isn’t convinced this is about you at all, just about Remy LeBeau wanting to go out in style, seek some comfort at the end of the his life, some warmth to take him through to the other side (and wasn’t it some warmth, though), but that wasn’t the way he was holding you, holding you closely made you wish that maybe, you were a different kind of girl and he was a different kind of boy because this - this felt really, really right - and he was still holding you, even after a loud shriek from one of the zombies indicated that they were getting closer and you didn’t -- mmm -- you didn’t have time for this!
    Not if you still had a shot, which was what you had been about to say before he’d interrupted and you force yourself to pull back and whisper, “Duck.”

    You rip yourself out of his arms and stand. You throw back your trenchcoat in the same movement and tear off the bomb you’ve taped to your back. You trigger the deadman's switch on the fuse and whirl it over your head like a slingshot by the short chord.

    The zombies see you - they start lumbering faster. You can smell them.

    You shout in defiance, a wordless challenge, and toss the bomb right into the middle of the incoming horde.

    Maybe it would work. Maybe it wouldn't. At least it would be a hell of a way to go out.

    You drop back into the trench sideways, pulling up your gun at the same time. You hope that the ledge of the trench will block the explosion, but even if it does, and even if the bomb goes off exactly right where you threw it, there were still too many damn zombies for it to take out. You’d have to get up and go out there fighting--

    boom

    --okay, good, still alive. Hurting, because of the way you’ve thrown yourself down, but still alive. You glance over to Gambit, grinning and he is looking at you like you are the strangest person on earth when really, you have never felt more alive and right. The exhilaration of being alive fills you to the brim -- you have a fighting chance now. You were both alive, and you were getting out of here. “Let’s go, Cajun.” You lean toward him, the wildness of living taking you, and give him another kiss, brief and deep and firm, “--for luck!” You pull back and stand up, swinging your gun around to focus it on the enemy.

    The problem with trying to kill the undead is that even wounded, they wouldn't stay down. The bomb had cleared a number of the zombies, and the field was a picture of carnage, blood and refuse and body parts and charred earth. The smell of it turns your stomach.

    There were maybe two dozen zombies still standing, relatively uninjured, but the injured ones weren't just sitting there either. Driven by their hunger, they crawl towards the trench.

    Gawd.

    You and Gambit fight your way clear, running in whatever direction offers least resistance. You work well together, covering each other with an instinctiveness that should only come with much practice but seems as natural as breathing. The point wasn’t to kill all the zombies, it was to live and you refuse to let yourself think about the fact that once, these people were innocents. You cut your way through and out, with Gambit at your side, and you both run until you’re clear and the surrounding forest is quiet.

    It’s not quiet long. He wants to know why you were carrying a bomb strapped to your body, and you don’t want to tell him -- don’t want to tell him that you came out prepared to die, don’t want to tell him that you left with the intention of bringing Korras Blake back and doing whatever it took to make him see that he had to accompany you -- because you had nothing left to lose. That bomb had been insurance in more ways than one, and now that you were without it you want to run to base, construct another, and head out again. They didn’t have enough ammo to continue to the mountains.

    But he… he doesn’t seem to want you to contact the base. You call him on it, explain that you need the ammo to keep going. He… what is this look? Why is he looking at you like this?

    "You're gonna be walkin' through zombies no matter where you're headin'.” He says. “Might as well keep on keepin' on."
    Your eyes narrow. “What do ya mean, 'no matter where I'm headin'. We've got a goal in mind, remember?"
    Gambit folds his arms, giving you his own unamused look. "Y'know, I ain't so sure we got the same goal in mind."
    Your stomach twists. A familiar sick feeling wells up at the back of your throat. No, not again. He wouldn’t do this to you again. "You mean the goal you agreed ta help me with when I let you join me for this crazy bicycle ride? The goal that involves savin' the people who are infected, and everyone else stuck in this damn enclosure? That goal?"
    And he meets your gaze, serious, unphased. "I agreed to watch your back. Watchin' it as you run off an' almos' get yourself killed kinda goes against the whole purpose."
    "Was it me? Or were we both out there almost gettin' ourselves killed together? We were gonna do this together." I trusted you. Angry now, you approach, taking two steps closer to get in his face. “You tell me, right now, why you're trying to keep me from findin' out if I can just go back."
    "'Cause I'm tryin' to get you somewhere safe."
    And there it was. Goddamnit. Goddamnit. You reach out and yank him down by his jacket, your faces inches apart. "Don't do me any favors. You try an' take my choice away again, Swamp Rat, and I swear to God I will end you. Nobody, nobody has control of my life but me, you got it?"
    You shove him back, hard.

    The memory fades on the look of angry stubbornness on his face, the angry sickness of betrayal in your stomach.]
    Edited (trying to make it easier to read) 2015-10-25 16:03 (UTC)
    cajunspice: (:/)

    [personal profile] cajunspice 2015-10-26 12:45 am (UTC)(link)
    [A numbness settled over Remy as he drew out of the memory, gun still in hand but not moving from his position from when the replay of events started. Looking down at the gun in his hand, he placed it back on it's shelf and closed the door carefully behind it, leaning his head forward until his forehead touched the storage cabinet.

    Then the questions came, and the wave of emotions to go with it.

    Was that one of the past him's from Luceti, one of the times before that he couldn't remember? And that kiss, what had that been about? Had he felt something for Rogue, beyond this weird mix of friendship they struggled to balance, or was it just a tool to get her to follow him? That feeling, that sense of realization she had when he had revealed his plan, that betrayal, it still sat heavy, weighing down his stomach and making him want to be sick.

    But, wasn't that still him? Hadn't he done that, even if he didn't remember doing it, it was still him. Remy could argue all he wanted that he wouldn't do something like that to Rogue, but... he had, the previous copy of him had, so that meant he would too, wouldn't he? He didn't think he would, not after the memory of her anger when he told her what he had done to make Wanda fight. Not after seeing her mourn the loss of a child that never really existed. Not after seeing her heart broken by an egotistical god who only used her as a toy to his own desires.

    'It's not the same ya, look how much ya changed since ya first arrived in Luceti. Merde, ya try something stupid like takin' her back home... or... or that, that, she would take ya hand off, or something more serious.' Yet it didn't change the fact he had done it, part of him had. He had used her, played on her emotions, her trust, a level of attraction that he knew he had over her but never used against her since coming to Luceti. Or at least he thought he hadn't. It was still him, and as much as he wanted to deny it, there was a part of him that was still capable of doing so.

    This, this was why he had got his powers unlock, this was why he had risked the surgery and letting another see the notes Sinister made about him. So it was impossible for him to use another person again, so that he didn't need to manipulate another to his whim and make them jump through hoops. He was a weapon now so others didn't have to be. Not Wanda, or Jean, or... or Rogue. Gambit, a small sacrifice for a bigger move, a better position, a greater good. And if that was his body getting torn apart by its own mutation in comparison to using a friend to fight, as that what Rogue was, a friend, then it would be worth it. Hell, he was a dead man walking anyways, may as well go out with a bang and for a decent reason.

    The past him had seen it, in a way, he was trying to save her at the sacrifice of... whatever they had, hadn't he? Or had he been so blind that he thought Rogue would be grateful for saving her rather than completing her own mission? Remy hoped it was the first one, not that it made the situation any less stupid, but if there was any good left in him at all, he hoped it had been the first one. If not...

    A surge of a deep hidden emotion, one he pushed back and refused to ever let fully surface threatened to break that well practiced mask he always wore, threatening to burst at the edges and drag him down with it. That little echo in his mind that existed and said he would be nothing more than an unwanted street kid with devil eyes, the one that deserve the hate and abuse he got as he clawed and fought to survive. Self hate, for all his bravado and ego and confidence, it still hung there, hidden and waiting for a moment to spring up and attack. Like with Bella, like with Etienne, like with Sarah. That he deserved that he had gotten, being thrown away, that he should had stayed street trash.

    He didn't want to be that man, he didn't want to be like his father who only saw the end goal. The bigger picture, god, how many times had he used that excuse to get things his way? Remy had accepted that long ago that was the way of life, you had to sacrifice to get what you wanted in the end, even if it meant breaking off parts of yourself. He had done it for the Guild, he still did, he gave everything up for it.

    And he was miserable.

    'I don't wanna be that kinda of man...']


    touchofrogue: (And the Fire Said...)

    [personal profile] touchofrogue 2015-10-26 01:35 am (UTC)(link)
    [For a long moment, the fire only crackles in the silence.

    She had almost forgotten about that. The house - her room - hadn't, and it still resonated with all the emotions that she'd felt that day; her desperate determination, the unexpected companionship found between them once again, and then the betrayal...

    In fact, Rogue had done her best to put that out of her mind, after Gambit had gone home and after this version of Remy had arrived... she wouldn't say that the experience hadn't colored how she'd seen him, but this Remy had won his own place in her estimation.

    And from the way he wasn't quite looking at her, from the way his shoulders slumped, Rogue had a feeling he hadn't really enjoyed that particular memory.]


    ...so... that had ta be weird for ya. Ya alright?
    cajunspice: (:/)

    [personal profile] cajunspice 2015-10-26 02:22 am (UTC)(link)
    [Oh yes, he wasn't alone here, it would had been better if he was. Or maybe not, maybe being caught in his own thoughts was the worse possible thing to have happen right now.]

    Donno. [No covering it up, not right now, it all too raw to try and hide it immediately.] Really donno.
    touchofrogue: (Listening)

    [personal profile] touchofrogue 2015-10-26 02:33 am (UTC)(link)
    [She places her hands on the top of the shade and leans up on the shade to peer at him.]

    Okay... fair enough. [What to even say?] Talk ta me.
    cajunspice: (:/)

    [personal profile] cajunspice 2015-10-26 02:45 am (UTC)(link)
    'nd say what? [Remy lifted his head, a hand up and rubbing his eyes as he tried to refocus, pulling his pieces back together and throwing that mask up again, shielding both himself and her from what was underneath and wanting to get out. There was no point to letting it free, all it do was cause him pain, better to shove it back away.] That I don't blame ya for how ya been with me? That I get why it was so hard to call me by m' name while 'm still actin' like an ass to ya?
    touchofrogue: (Uncertain About This)

    [personal profile] touchofrogue 2015-10-26 03:03 am (UTC)(link)
    ...was thinkin' more 'bout how you were doin'. [Pause a deliberate beat.] Remy. 'cause it looked like that made ya feel sick.

    [And she hadn't... imagined that kind of reaction from him at all, even if she'd ever thought he'd ever learn about it.]
    cajunspice: (>))

    [personal profile] cajunspice 2015-10-26 03:16 am (UTC)(link)
    [He gave a slight chuckle, it sounding forced.] Just need to piece m'self back together, ya know how it be. [And he was sure she did, he had seen it, having to rebuild yourself in a way that was acceptable to the world.

    He was Remy LeBeau, he was a prince of the Thief Guild, second in line. He was the best at the job he did, he was a brother, a son. He had done a lot of crap in his life, but he had a family that loved him and a purpose, even if it wasn't always a great one, it was the best option he had.

    A few moments of silence and a roll of his shoulders, letting those darker thoughts be pushed aside for better ones, letting his ego and normal confidence take over and dominate anything else, he let out a breath and finally moved away from the storage system.]
    Think 'll take ya up on that drink now.
    touchofrogue: (And the Fire Said...)

    [personal profile] touchofrogue 2015-10-26 03:20 am (UTC)(link)
    [...well, she'd offered to listen. She couldn't make him take her up on it, even if part of her didn't think that was very fair. After all, he'd had the reaction to her memory. She'd kind of like to know what he was thinking.

    Rogue withdrew back toward the center of her coals.]


    Go ahead. Drinks are on top, food's on the bottom.
    cajunspice: (>))

    [personal profile] cajunspice 2015-10-26 03:44 am (UTC)(link)
    Merci. [Maybe after a couple of drinks, maybe once he could talk about what he felt and how he reacted after he could take a couple of steps back from it, not be so involved or caught up in it.

    Stepping over to the and reaching for the alcohol, Remy reconsidered that and instead set up the coffee maker to brew up a cup or two for him. Ok, maybe a mix, adding a bit in to Irish it up his cup before he moved back to the armchair.] Merde, like how m' brother makes his coffee...
    touchofrogue: (And the Fire Said...)

    [personal profile] touchofrogue 2015-10-26 04:00 am (UTC)(link)
    [There is, sadly, absolutely no affect attached to the drinks. If he'd had some of the food, on the other hand, that miiiiight have been a different story. Maybe later, she hopes. Rogue actually really doesn't mind the food affect.]

    There's some chicory in the drawer, if ya wanna add it in for next time.

    [She's just saying.]
    cajunspice: (:/)

    [personal profile] cajunspice 2015-10-27 02:39 am (UTC)(link)
    Thanks Rogue.

    [Sitting back in the chair with his drink, it didn't take too long before Remy started to drum his fingers against the side of the mug and a foot started tapping against the ground, feeling a little penned in now after that episode and now cautious about touching anything else.]

    So, [He tried after a few moments.] Sounds like ya got more of an idea behind this all than I do. Don't tell me this is a normal thing, 'cause I don't remember if it's happened before.
    touchofrogue: (And the Fire Said...)

    [personal profile] touchofrogue 2015-10-27 03:07 am (UTC)(link)
    I don't think it's normal. [A shrug.] Think it's got somethin' ta do with bringin' us all up on the ship again in the first place. Dunno how much you're gonna remember, come mornin'.

    [Another shrug.] I haven't remembered much. Just when I'm in here.
    cajunspice: (:/)

    [personal profile] cajunspice 2015-10-27 03:13 am (UTC)(link)
    So ya had others thought here at night? [Wait, that meant they were in a dream world? A dream world made up of their own memories and emotions. Ah crap, did he have one? Not good.]

    Uh... don't suppose ya been in my one, have ya? [Please say no, please sat no.]
    touchofrogue: (And the Fire Said...)

    [personal profile] touchofrogue 2015-10-28 12:44 am (UTC)(link)
    [The fire shakes its head.]

    If I have, I don't remember.

    [Tilting her head.] But ya shouldn't worry if I do end up there. After all, it won't be anythin' that doesn't get pumped into my head any time we touch.
    cajunspice: (:/)

    [personal profile] cajunspice 2015-10-28 10:17 am (UTC)(link)
    [A raised brow at that, as while Remy always had a clue that Rogue got information from others, he wasn't sure how in depth it was. That could be concerning, but then again, if she knew what he knew there was no way she would want to be friends with him.] Thought ya just got a basic scan of them, just what they were thinkin' at the time.
    touchofrogue: (And the Fire Said...)

    [personal profile] touchofrogue 2015-10-28 11:34 pm (UTC)(link)
    Nah, that's just what sticks first. [Leaning little fire elbows casually on the edge of her glass screen.] It's not so simple, really. Wish it was.

    [She'd thought he understood how it worked. Hadn't he known enough to get her to go down and help him out with that whole mess with his dad?] Ya know everyone I touch stays inside my head, right?
    cajunspice: (cross-armed)

    [personal profile] cajunspice 2015-10-29 12:16 am (UTC)(link)
    Yeah, I do, just was never sure how 'ndepth it was.

    [Leaning back in the chair Remy spoke about something he wouldn't normally share. But this, well, he might not remember any of this, or her. And... it was Rogue, the closest connection he had to their world.] Back when I worked for Mag's there was a whole bunch of 'nformation on ya'll, ya abilities, powers, everything. Those... that gave an idea to what ya could do, but after seein' what ya done in Luceti, what ya say now, it didn't really scratch it. [A bit of a chuckle, kind of bitter.] Then again, kinda hard to sum it all up in a line or two.
    touchofrogue: (And the Fire Said...)

    [personal profile] touchofrogue 2015-10-29 12:33 am (UTC)(link)
    It figures.

    [Thanks, Mystique.

    She tilts her head and decides to explain, because it's... new, the way she understands her powers. It's new and it's... well, it's not like she has to be afraid of telling him.]


    It's like... a downloaded file, I guess. The surface thoughts, anythin' I'm lookin' for in particular, a person's powers... they're all there, right on top, like clickin' an icon or insertin' a picture. But the whole file's still there. How easy it is ta access depends on how much I take... an' a bunch of other things.

    ...but it ain't like I try ta find out what's goin' on, either.
    cajunspice: (cross-armed)

    [personal profile] cajunspice 2015-10-29 01:17 am (UTC)(link)
    [There was a nod of his head as he took in the information, between sips of his coffee, sorting it out and comparing it to what he already knew and events he had seen with Rogue using her powers.] Ya go makin' me curious 'bout how much m' voice lets ya know now. [He hoped for once he kept his mouth shut, no need to be letting Rogue in on the types of thoughts and memories that were stuck in his head.]
    touchofrogue: (And the Fire Said...)

    [personal profile] touchofrogue 2015-10-29 01:30 am (UTC)(link)
    [Well, she supposes that's fair enough...]

    Funny thing 'bout that... most of my psyches didn't come with me, here. S'like my brain almost got wiped clean again. [And... if only.

    But yet, she is not so sad, in one quiet little mad corner of her soul, to carry the memories of her family with her in this way. To always remember them.]


    Ya ain't in my head at all anymore. ...except for now, I guess.
    cajunspice: (>))

    [personal profile] cajunspice 2015-10-29 01:53 am (UTC)(link)
    That gotta be nice for ya. [And certainly a surprise, then again the idea of Rogue snapping in such a confined space and with no one on her ship that could really help with the situation or had experience with it... yeah, that could go bad fast.] Considerin' the power restriction be gone here.
    touchofrogue: (And the Fire Said...)

    [personal profile] touchofrogue 2015-10-29 02:20 am (UTC)(link)
    It does make things a lot easier.

    [So many things, you've no idea.

    And of course... having her powers back to full strength had been disorienting at first, but it had actually made integrating the few psyches she had left a lot easier... although... maybe that was also helped by the fact that there were so few. They were thoroughly a part of her now. They couldn't be moved. Not even the knife next to Remy, or the hurricane lamp he'd previously held onto, or even that shadow in the corner. They were hers, and her responsibility now.]
    cajunspice: (cross-armed)

    [personal profile] cajunspice 2015-10-29 03:29 am (UTC)(link)
    [Remy gave a glance around the room, piecing together what she said to the surroundings.] That it that why the room so clear, hein? [Once he knew he was in her head he had expected it to be more cluttered, maybe a bit more chaotic.]

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