It's an Adventure

Xanadu Weyr - Guest Weyr

Rustic and simple, this one-roomed cottage sits at the edge of the forest near the feeding grounds. The decor is spartan with a wide, comfortable bed and a couch, table and chairs and small kitchenette. Kept stocked with food and drink, the bed freshened with sheets and coverlets after each use by the weyrstaff, it's nothing more than a place to give riders participating in mating flights a bit of privacy should they need it.

Spring mornings are a symphony of gentle sounds. The soft chirps of avians that nest in trees. The gentle rush of a breeze through grass lush and wet from an overnight rain. The herds are awakening, made obvious by lazing moos of bovine as they begin to graze on their dewy morning meal. The sun is just beginning to peek out from the horizon, casting a pale golden light upon a freshly rinsed Xanadu. Roads are muddy, but there are few that travel upon them yet. Breakfast will be served soon, which will be enough to lure sleepyheads from their beds. But Ka'el isn't one of those who is on the verge of being wakeful. Quite the contrary. He had a long and ..rough night, and it drained him.. in various ways. The bed that he lays upon is a tangle of sheets, streaked here and there with mud. His hair is disheveled upon his head, and clothing at some point has been stripped from his body. He's dead asleep, his body pressed against that of another, arm slipped around a waist and his chest pressed against someone's back. Outside, Kanekith has settled with Seryth, the bronze half dozing, yet still awake with his hide pressed just as closely to that of the senior queen's as he keeps steady watch over her. Ka'el snuggles closer, lips pressing against the back of his bed partner's neck in the midst of a dream.

The press of lips to the back of her neck shatters whatever dream-bubble Thea was in. She emerges from a heavy sleep in slow stages. What was that? Something is definitely…different. Fragments of last night drift to remembrance through the fog of vague, uneasy disorientation. She was hot - HOT - last night and needed to cool off. There was… a walk? Yes, a walk in the… rain? She's not sure. There was mud, confusion, a struggle… She twitches a shoulder, unprepared for the sharp lance of pain that courses through it. With that she is fully awake. And then aware that someone is… Her heavy lids pop open and stare at, yep. Walls that are not those of her own cottage. Her mind seeks Seryth, a quick check to confirm what she assumes is- was- yes. The smugly-pleased queen is sleeping entwined with another, just as she- ACK. There's an ARM around her and- Don't panic, Thea! Chances are three out of one hundred or so that one of your own kids caught- She panics. And begins the process of easing away from whoever it is- Pleasedon'tbe..! Pleasedon'tbe..! She lifts the wrist and rolls off the side of the bed, waits for the dizziness and nausea to pass with gritted teeth. There's a blanket on the floor. This she grabs and with slow, awkward movements wraps herself in it Indian-style. Only then does she press a hand to the mattress to assist her in the effort to push herself to her feet.

Mngh. So much movement. A shifting body moves the mattress. His arm, being lifted away. These little things begin to rouse Ka'el from his slumber, and he makes a noise in his throat. Groggy and low. ..Bed. Being in bed is a good thing. He can feel the pillow beneath his head. The warmth of someone against him, though moving away. His mind is slow to catch up to the events of the night, and a slow smile begins to curve his mouth as instead, he comes up with his own logical conclusion. He knows who's with him. Who else would it be? Sharing a bed is an act reserved for only one person, and thus as she moves away, he makes a half-hearted, sleepy reach for her. "Don' leave, Sori…" he murmurs, voice deep with the remnants of sleep, and his arm flops back down upon the mattress. "Stay…with me…a lil' while longer…" Kanekith's comfort is like a blanket that keeps his eyes closed, the feeling that all is right a heavy one. How could it not be right with her here with him? But in the back of his mind, something feels….off. Something is out of place, and he can't quite pinpoint what it is. He yaaaawns widely and rolls onto his back, sheets still draped across his chest, and his eyes blearily open and focus on the ceiling. .. Hm. Not his stone ceiling. Not the familiar wood of Sori's either. His brows faintly knit as a few pieces of memory clatter into place. Blood on Kanekith's maw. A rainy chase of a golden hide. He can't bear to look over and instead stares up, pale-faced, at the unfamiliar…yet now nauseatingly familiar ceiling. His throat sways with a slow swallow. "…Tell me you're Sori. .. And tell me you're alright."

Thea's muscles move stiffly, the joints as though needing to be jolted from frozen immobility. She's slow, but somehow, not as slow as the reaching hand is. She's still in the awkward hand-braced floor-kneeling when he speaks her Junior's name and her eyes close. She now knows whose bronze caught Seryth and this… this complicates things somewhat. She finally gets the blanket wrapped securely around her slim shoulders - more substantially than her shredded dignity, but that will mend - and completes that push to rise. It is accomplished far slower than she would like and a hiss escapes her lips despite her best effort to keep it from happening. Her eyes are averted, time needed to draw a breath before she answers. Pleased that it comes out as steadily as it does, she manages quietly, regretfully, "I can't tell you that, Ka'el, but I am fine." Liar! She moves then, walking slowly to the kitchenette without looking back and begins the process of brewing klah - strong klah. She knows right where to find the supplies. It will take longer than it should, but it will give her something to do so he can pull himself together and at least pull his pants on. Unless he wants her to break the news to him that he's just landed Weyrleader while butt nekkid.

Be Soriana. Please be Soriana. Please be Soriana without the look of hurt and the feeling of pain and the marks of bruises like the time before. He's not sure just who he's pleading to, but his mind is begging whoever or whatever can control fate to let this be true. Let this be different than the last time. And … in a way, it is. Regretfully, not in the way that Ka'el was hoping. The voice that he hears is not Soriana's at all, but it is a familiar one, one that causes those stunned blue eyes to widen and pupils to shrink. His fingers curl, fisting the sheets against his palm before he sits up, propping himself up onto his elbows to stare, boggle-eyed, at his Weyrwoman. "Thea.." He fully rises now, the bedsheet slipping from his chest though thankfully resting over his lap as he watches her, no further words forthcoming although his lips remain lightly parted. His heart leaps somewhere high in his chest and squeezes. What has he done? And her movements, are they purposefully so cautiously slow? A low curse is heard, and it takes a while before he has sense enough to move, but even as he moves, turning his back to her to slip from the bed and pull out trousers, he does so in a daze. Indeed, it's Seryth that Kanekith is doting over now, not Luraoth. The Junior Queen and rider are far away, and that's about the only good thing that Ka'el can think of at this moment as he fastens his belt. His shirt is…somewhere. Unimportant. Brows are furrowed as he turns towards the wrapped Weyrwoman, the smell of klah permeating the air, reminding him even more of the woman he thought she was. "Let … Let me see," he says, swallowing after. "I have to see that you're ok." He moves away from the bedside now, heading on bare feet towards the kitchenette.

The pleasant sounds of bubbling and dripping tell tale that the klah is on the way to brewing, the bracing scent permeating the kitchenette with the steam issuing from the unit. Thea has moved to the cupboard for the mugs and reaches one handed, since the other is holding the blanket in place, to open it. Her hand is at the level of her shoulder before it freezes and she swallows a gasp, then nudges it a little higher, braces the tips of her fingers on the bottom of the cupboard ad flicks the door open with a move of her forefinger. Then she can use those fingers to walk her hand up and inside to hook that finger through the handles of two mugs and drag them out. They thunk to the countertop harder than she means to - they're heavy! She gets that finished as the thud of bare feet head into the kitchenette. "Ka'el. I'm fine." When she turns around, her head is up and she looks him in the eye with a small firm smile on her lips. "Why are you so worried?" The counter is helping support her, but he can't know that and she's not telling. The blanket is up around her shoulders, but from what can be seen of her face and neck, she's telling the truth. Her skin is unmarked save for a slightly swollen lower lip. "Will you get the sweetner and cream for the klah please?" Still with the even, calm voice as she lifts her chin to point at the cooling unit.

He doesn't see any of that. The bracing. The fought back gasp. The stiffness of her motions. He's blissfully unaware, but that doesn't exactly make him blissfully unaware. This is the same dance to a different sordid song. The setting is the same. The sunlight that streams through a vague crack between the curtains, identical to a time before. Ka'el doesn't believe her words, and when she turns to look at him, there's a hard stubbornness to his eyes that he wouldn't dare give to her on any other, normal, occasion. Why is he so worried? "You know why," he answers, a frown pulling on his lips. Xanadu is her weyr. There is little that happens within it that she doesn't become aware of, eventually. He's not foolish enough to believe that what happened with him here before stayed between himself and his last unfortunate partner. There's a miniscule turning of his head as she gestures towards the cooling unit, but Ka'el does not budge from where he stands a foot or so away from her wrapped form. He's not worried about her face and neck. Those weren't the parts last time, either. "Show me," he slowly says again, his tone less apprehensive, more demanding.

"I do not." The Weyrwoman continues to meet his eyes without wavering, but this time her voice has the ring of truth to it. Oh but she can guess, most likely, after last night. The funny thing about Weyrlife. There's so little privacy to be had, that she grants it to people whether they want it or not. She doesn't voice what conclusion her mind goes to. Nor does she ask what he means. She can be just as stubborn as Ka'el, however. Her chin lifts fractionally. "I'm fine," she repeats, putting a little more force behind the words, her smile more determined. Ouch! Her free hand lifts to touch her lower lip gently, ruefully, "Looks like I won't need those fancy creams Ierne sells for sexy lips." Humor. The great restorer of equilibrium, right?

Ka'el's eyes fractionally narrow as she denies knowledge. Liar? .. It doesn't sound as if she's lying, but he remains skeptical as he half glares at her, not bothering to mirror her smile. Especially when his eyes lower to her swollen lip, which has the corners of his mouth down pulling even further. Did he do that? Or did she fall and hurt herself? He rakes through his memory, scrabbling for any fragment of a memory that's clear enough to give him answers. But it isn't clear. It's like looking through an iced over glass in which everything looks distorted and lines blur and edges fracture. It's enough to get the gist, but not anything close to what he needs. And Thea is being of no help whatsoever. "You're not fine," he counters, although he has no proof of that other than her swollen lip. And if that's all, well then she truly might be. "That's all she ever said before. That she was fine. But she shardin' wasn't fine and it was all because of me. She wasn't fine for a long time, an' I couldn't do anything. She wouldn't let me do anything. She *hated* me. And I'll be damned if I let all that happen over again." His body is tense.

Thea continues to meet Ka'el's narrowed gaze without flinching, though her smile does fade. He's upset. She's not going to stand here smiling reassurance at him that he's not willing to believe. She's telling him the truth about Soriana though! Her lip? Probably she had as much to do with it as he did. With the kissing. It's not like a fat lip from being punched, just a little bit…puffy. She listens somberly as he speaks of Soriana and her eyes soften. "I did not know," she says quietly. She remains still, regards him steadily, weighing his resolve, weighing hers. Her eyes remain on his, but her grip on the blanket twitches and it drops from her shoulders, leaving them bare. There are dusky finger-shaped bruises marring the skin on both. "I'm sore," she admits with matter-of-fact honesty. "I think I tore something in my shoulder. But I am fine." Her brows lift, but her eyes are kind, "I don't hate you."

She is telling the truth. He can see that now, but Ka'el isn't going to delve into the twisted details that he'd rather forget. Those same memories that are mocking him now in this wretched cavern, almost faded thoughts re-strengthened by his surroundings alone. He has nearly escaped them, it not just for a while. He says nothing, eyes remaining on hers until that blanket begins to fall. They flit to her shoulder, and a look of dismay crumbles his expression at the telltale marks that have been impressed upon her skin. "Shards…" His teeth grit, but instead of moving away, he finds himself moving closer, pained eyes dancing from one shoulder to the other. He lifts a hand, eyes flickering to hers momentarily before he reaches to very lightly touch fingertips to one of her bruises. "He's goin' to kill me.." he exhales, voice barely above a whisper. "He's goin' to throw me on a mountain an' let the felines have me. I'm sorry, Thea. I'm…I don't know good enough words to tell you how sorry I am." Fingers trail, if she so allows, down her shoulder in a feather-light touch, to the side of her arm, expression remaining grim. "I've got to stop doin' this."

Thea doesn't ask for them, either. Nor does she reach to restore the blanket to her shoulders. "There's a difference," she says, not exactly agreeing with his assessment of being hated. "That was not my first flight." His expression draws a half-frown, an almost-sigh. "This is why…I didn't want to show you." She permits the touch without drawing back, but her eyes sharpen. "He? He who?" There's no 'he' in her life to kill him. Not anymore. So there will be no throwing of Ka'el off onto mountains unless he's talking about Kanekith doing the throwing. "Ka'el. Stop it. That wasn't you, not really," she says firmly. "Kanekith… is very competitive, determined. I don't know of any riders that can override their dragon in a mating flight. Unless it's to shut them down and get them to stop chasing entirely." And she needs to sit down, so reaches her free hand to pull the blanket up, or begins to. "Can you-?" Pull that blanket back up for her? "And get the cream and klah?" She reaches for the mugs. She can do this since they're below the level of her shoulder.

It's fortunate that Thea has experience. She may not have planned it, but her words succeed in lowering his peaking levels of guilt and letting them hover at a reasonable level. His hand is drawn away with a slow exhale, but it's only lowered enough so that he can grasp at that blanket and lift it to drape over her shoulder again, hiding away the evidence of injury. "I should've tried to stop him." He lingers close to her. He knows not why, but he does, eyes lingering on the gentle swell of her lip before lowering to the curvature of her neck until that blanket obscures skin from view. He seeks her eyes then and holds them with his own that glimmer with a hint of something. Something that causes his fingers to twitch, resisting the urge to draw his arms around her. … Grr! Kanekith! His heavy contentment with Seryth is still infectious, and it's with a small amount of effort that he takes a step away from the Weyrwoman, answering her question belatedly. "N'shen," he verbalizes. "If he sees any of that, he'll be sure the only flight I have is a flight away from Xanadu. Permanently." And Ka'el himself wouldn't blame the weyrleader for doing so, either. This is his…er, mom… With her blanket now in place, he steps further back to retrieve the cream and some sweetener for the klah.

"Thank you," Thea says calmly as that blanket is drawn back up. She reaches for those mugs, hooks a finger back through the handles and drags them towards her. "Stop him?" She barks a small laugh of disbelief. "Would you do that to him? Seryth's fine. And now," she shrugs her shoulders up, then down, grimaces fleetingly. That hurt. "You know the damage. Is it as bad as last time? Or is he calming somewhat?" She really needs to sit and so as he steps away, she smirks at him. She knows the afterflight hangover but, used to it. And old enough to be his (totally hot) mother so is not flustered in the least. She moves to the table, places the mugs on the surface and eases down. She blinks over at him when he answers her question, gives him a quirky-eyed stare. "I'm not telling N'shen. Or Mur'dah." Or Marel or anyone. Privacy! She protects her own too. Oh but then why he's mentioning N'shen occurs to her and she grins. "Ka'el, dear? You're Weyrleader now." Hello? Flight-winner? Perhaps she should have waited until he was seated?

Kanekith enjoys the challenge of gold flights far too much for Ka'el to try to discourage him from chasing. Would he stop him? No. But … it's a nice thought to think that he possibly could and would someday. "It's .. not as bad," he says after a moment of thought, regrettably thinking back to Soriana and the gut-wrenching moment of wakefulness. "It's less than what I remember … but still. 'Not as bad' is still bad." He carries the little pitcher of cold cream in one hand and sweetener in the other. Klah is sounding like a good remedy for a swimming mind, but already this time around is panning out so much better than the last! He can't help but to feel tiny it optimistic, especially when she assures N'shen won't be notified. Or Mur'dah for that matter, which he hadn't thought about. Til now. Oy. But before he can get too dismayed by the thought of his friends figuring out what happened, bam! He's given another shock, which in truth shouldnt've been shocking in the first place, but he wasn't thinking about that. He's…weyrleader? "Shit.." it is not said because of the news but because the creamer has slipped from his hands. He drops the sweetener as he tries to catch the creamer, which is juggled a bit, causing a milky substance to slosh out over the edges, onto his hands, bare chest, and splattering on the floor. But at least he catches the breakable mug it was all in! "Wh-what?" he stutters with wide eyes, careless of the way creamer drips from his hands and down his front. The sweetener granules have overturned on the table. "Me? But…I-..I ca-…That can't. That can't be right!"

"It may be, but 'not as bad' is progress? And perhaps as he matures he won't be so, hm. Vigorous. He'll be more controlled, perhaps?" She's trying to give the boy some hope, a hope that is not far-fetched, so she doesn't say Kanekith is going to become a lamb. Now Thea needs a mug of that strong klah. But she forgot spoons and the pot is still over on the heating element. She's made the effort to sit and she'd like to remain sitting for her legs did things last night that they haven't done in a long time. Maybe not ever! So she remains where she is. "Yes you can, Ka'el," she says easily. "That's how it works. Perhaps the tradition doesn't make logical sense but that's how riders are made. The dragons choose the rider; it is as it should be for their Weyrleader. The queen that rises chooses the Weyrwoman. The bronze that flies her is the Weyrleader." She lifts her mug, her empty mug and looks into it longingly, then tilts a look at him that glimmers with a touch of subtle merriment. "Besides, if you suck I can always fire you?"

Poor Thea. At least bedding with Ka'el is just a one time thing? … Right? And poor Ka'el! He looks like someone just punched him in the gut with that information. Weyrleader? Even the sound of it seems like a joke! He sets the sloshed creamer down on the table, uses his had to sweep the spilled sweetener back in its container, then goes to get the forgotten items. He just needs to move! Moving helps. So he gets that klah pot and pours her a mug and himself a mug. Then he sets it back down on the heater. Then gets spoons for scooping and stirring. All the while his mind is moving like a whirlwind. "Get it over with now. Fire me before it's too late an' the Weyr revolts." Now he needs to sit down, and thus he plops himself down on an opposite chair. "Weyrleader?" He combs the fingers of one hand through his unruly hair, trying and failing to…digest it all with grace. "Thea," apparently they're on a first name basis now, or he's still too topsy-turvy to remember to use correct titles, "I don't know what the shard to do as Weyrleader. You don't want to keep N'shen? He didn't win your last flight." That he remembers!

It might…not be? But Thea will be kind and not inform Ka'el of that little fun fact. He needs to sleep without nightmares if he's going to get through the next few sevens. She murmurs her thanks for the klah, busies herself with a moderate amount of sweetner and cream, stirs and then lifts it to sip. Oh is it over good! She listens to him while leaning on both elbows and keeping that mug close. "N'shen didn't, but Seryth didn't rise when I needed a new one," she points out reasonably. Thea he calls her and she doesn't even blink. Because they are apparently on a first name basis. "You're Weyrleader now, Ka'el," she repeats and yes, she's trying not to giggle saying it because he's so very flustered. "You'll learn. You'll have the best teachers too. Myself, Jethaniel, Darsce…" All of the Administration staff in his proximity, daily! Fun times, eh? "Just don't do anything illegal and I won't have to fire you?" Perhaps she shouldn't tempt him!

Klah! Klah might help! He goes about making the sweetest concoction ever. Want a little klah with all that sweetener, Ka'el? Four, five, six, and a half spoonfulls of that and a healthy dose of creamer that turns the drink more of a caramelish-white color than brown. Sip! .. Hm. One more spoonful of sweeter is added. There! Perfect. He inhales a deep breath, holds it, and lets it go. That's repeated two more times before he sips again. Ok, so no passing the buck to N'shen? Well! Then that leaves…uh. Ka'el himself. As weyrleader. Yup, still sounds weird. "I was only hopin' for Wingleader in a few turns…" he murmurs from behind his cup. "Maybe Wingsecond. Nothin' too much…" But nooo. Kanekith had to go and be all … awesome and gold-catchy! Another sip is taken and nearly sputtered as Thea continues, owlish eyes staring at her. Jethaniel? "I don't understand shardin' half of what comes out've his mouth!" And he's supposed to learn from Mr. Technical Speak?? And Darsce? He grimaces, holding his mug in both hands now and hunkering down over it. This is going to be bad. Bad bad bad. "Is it customary to get a headache on the first day?" Wait a second. "Do I start…today?"

Thea's eyes follow that spoon from sweetner to klah, klah to sweetner eight times, her eyes widening in stages commensurate to the level of sweetner he dumps in his mug. It's now almost klah-syrup? She nods in sympathy. Flights are like that. No warning whatsoever. Of the Steward, she says calmly, "It's the half you do understand that you will learn from." Yes, well, Darsce. "Darsce will teach you diplomacy." Yep! She said that with a perfectly straight face and without batting an eye. "It's an adventure," she adds blandly. Headaches? Look at her, the staff changes nearly every time Seryth rises. She should be a gibbering mess! Or no wait, maybe don't. "Tomorrow," she says with a pained smile. She needs a day to recover. "You could go visit Ierne and… celebrate your… promotion?" Break the news to Soriana, she means.

Jethaniel should come with his own translation book. Maybe that's something Ka'el can make happen, now that he has some sort of … say in certain matters. As for Darsce diplomacy, all Ka'el can manage to do is … look at her. With one of those looks on his face. This is going to be a very interesting turn. Or is it two turns? Oy. His super sweet klah is left after only a few sips from it, and he rises from his seat, palms pressed against the tabletop. "If Seryth could keep this from Luraoth, I'd be grateful," he says. "I'm not goin' to distract Soriana from her studies. She really wants that grade two promotion, and this would just.." he shakes his head, "distract her." That's a good word, so he's sticking with it. Keeping it from her may also piss her off, but he's willing to gamble that he's making the right choice. He looks relieved to know that he won't have to go do any sort of .. super important duties today. He only has one thing on his mind now. "I'm gonna stay here a while." Somehow going outside and having people stare and speculate doesn't rank high on his list of things to do. "Feels like I hardly slept at all." Which he didn't! And he's worn out.

Ka'el is welcome to suggest it? Jethaniel is remarkably dedicated to efficient Weyr management. However, being a tech crafter, he might come up with a more complicated solution than a book. Thea returns Ka'el's look patiently. She meant it. Wait until she has the same talk with Darsce! Hah! Two turns and maybe more. Seryth is not as young as she used to be! "Ah, Ka'el? Seryth might not be talking, but dragons do. Word travels fast." She flicks a look towards the window. There are people who felt that flight nearly as much as they did. Someone has surely by now had a peek at which bronze Seryth is cuddled with. She looks dubious about his decision regarding Soriana but shrugs. This is up to him. "You're staying… here?" Okaaay well, hm. That complicates things just a bit. "Would you take a second to go out and have a peek at them, make sure there are no scratches or bites…" And she'll groan in private while she dons her sodden clothes so she can go home and put on something less…see-through so she can go kick everyone out of the bathing caverns while she soaks. Worn out indeed!

"Well I hope this time the dragons find sometin' better to talk about," muses Ka'el, though it's a farfetched idea. She may already know! And what he can't quite picture is just how she'd react to it. When it comes to flights, it's better off not to assume anything. "I'm stayin' here unless you want me goin' somewhere else," he says before nodding at her request that he does in fact leave. If just for a little bit. He still has no clue where his shirt may be, but a shirtless man in spring likely isn't too strange of a view for any passer-by. It's the context of the snuggled dragons that'd really catch their eye and raise rumor! "Alright," he says aloud, backing from her to instead make his way towards the latched front door, pausing to pull on boots and stopping altogether with his hand on the knob. He hesitates, then looks back at her, hand falling away from the door. "I'm not going to screw this up." There's no 'try' in there. Failure is not an option. This is his home, after all. And now…partially, Xanadu is his responsibility. He returns to her only so that he can attempt to press a kiss to her cheek. "I promise," he adds before stepping away for good this time and exiting to check on their dragons. Their very smug (at least on the bronze end) lifemates.

Except that it's early spring and the days are still quite cool? Thea won't look at allllllll strange slogging barefoot through the mud in soaked clothing down the forest track to her cottage will she? Not that that's going to stop her. She needs that soak. And some sleep. And - heh - some numbweed. Maybe… no, definitely, she'll avoid the infirmary and go to the dragonhealers annex for dragon-strength. Because. Cyrus. Ka'el turns away and she lifts her klah mug, closes her eyes, takes a long draught. His voice from the door, stirs her to open them again. She lowers her mug and regards the teen. "It's a lot to ask," she acknowledges gravely, watching a touch quizzically when he strides back to her side, her neck bends to keep his face in her line of sight. The kiss to her cheek is totally unexpected and she's moved by it, her smile less fraught with tension, sweeter. "I believe you," she says firmly. Before he goes, she reaches a hand to his forearm to forestall his departure. "Promise me something? Allow yourself to make mistakes? I don't expect perfection. And don't be reluctant to ask for help? Soriana loves you. A person would have to be blind not to see that. She's strong enough to do what she needs to do and be there for you too." Advice she probably ought to take herself - in general. And then she allows him to slip out so she can do the clumsy donning of clothes and head for her rest. Tomorrow is going to be a challenge. She'll need every bit of recuperation she can wring from this day to prepare for it.

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