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The Shell of Great Sins

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The hostess that had led them to the table was interesting, Tatia couldn’t help but stare at the clipped wings on her back. It seemed to be such a shame that such a creature would never take flight again, to give up such a freedom was disheartening. Smoothing her hands down the top of her skirts, she came back to reality after watching the naked hostess move around the table as the coven seated themselves.

Watching the way she shoved pages of Revelations in her mouth, the book dwindling in whatever word of religion was told in the ink printed on the pages. Tatia graced the woman with a smile, her dark blue eyes changing somewhat more icy. Glancing over to her brother Leinhart, she decided to speak for him and the coven.

“We are the Choisel Coven, Leinhart Choisel is our Master and Leader.” Nodding her to her brother who she sat next to, her blue eyes hovering on him for that moment before returning to the hostess. “I wasn’t much aware of this performer, I am delighted to see the performance.” Taking the words of this person to thought, she would glance over the rest of the party who sat themselves at the large round table. Looking at the doctor who instantly produced her pipe after sitting, she would give her a smile.

“Anyway I may get a glass of wine?” With her blue hues resting on the odd looking woman with crows legs, she kept her smile faint as she waited for the others to give their own inputs.

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A firm grip of Martis’s right hand latched around Damien’s left shoulder from nowhere to remind the kid of the eyes behind Leinhart’s head were always watching. The half Spaniard Blondie stepped away for but a few seconds or maybe, time already was going too fast for the day and nobody kept track? At almost 5’11 the semi-fit male towered above the seated Vandom and his once passionate ice blue eyes now boiled to a molten Crimson red; the Dhampir was steaming hot! Not from Beauty, either. Any whom knew the Cervantes butler, also was aware that he wouldn’t harm even a ladybug. Unlike the others he held some type of connection still with the Human half of his Blood. Let alone, from enough hearsay the two Houses respectively would form some sort of alliance soon. His hand tensed to release slowly from the spot on the boy’s shoulder and with a light gesture from his butter white face, not only did Martis flash a wide polished smile in exposing fangs; but his swollen red gaze seemed to settle along with his calming process. Even as Keeper his mental state here and there seemed to flunctuate. His case of identity crisis was something self-diagnosed. 

“You know, I haven’t been around too long to dictate character. I’m sure it’s a lot like the way you act now. You’re lucky, to be Blessed in Pureblood. Yet, I have more free reign in shackles than you ever would a royal. Be who you are to be, a Pureblood Vandom yes?”

Nothing was said out to be more than what it is and gently, Martis backed himself away once the vampiric-crow like woman approached the table as a hostess. ~

Leinhart couldn’t bare to embrace the thrust of emotions coming from Quin, he turned towards her once again as he settled in his rather lowly to the ground chair - must he complain to himself a King sat upon a Throne! There was no startling to break the madness into those that could feel the growing sense of Him’s absolute Will commence as a small shift in the room’s overall social, mental, emotional well-being. It was like a drug had been administered via air throughout the entire proximity of the Dark lord affecting those with little alarm to ever seeing, or feeling. Nether encompassing his quietly undisturbed form in his chair, a quarter percent of the crowd at Jidoor had the same supernatural essence flowing through their Undead bodies. The Patriarch held himself accountable for all behaviors within Jidoor, the eyes would be every where except for on Him. At least, his targets would only be those of Vampyric nature for the time being.     He watched somewhat attentively as the supernatural woman of strange and naked features approached the bunch of the Coven. He held hands crossed over the other and listened his beloved Countess spoken well on their behalf and he wasn’t impressed. She was his sister by Blood and soon a wife by the same manner. Yet, he was still the Count of Choisel and gave the Undead hostess at least some decency in addressing him as he went brushing down his pea coat.

”As ma’lady Tatia has said, I am the Patriarch of Vampires. Devil of all doers, the Kronos. It is a pleasgure to be served by the finest, yet what I request is an individual. Perhaps, you may know of this Demon named Benny?”

Edited by Etched in Stone
First one got deleted so im sorry, it’s short x.x

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On 7/5/2018 at 7:38 PM, Eternity said:

“We are the Choisel Coven, Leinhart Choisel is our Master and Leader.”

Damien bristled. "Easy there. Not everyone here is Choisel."

Admittedly, Damien had been paying less than full attention to what was going on. Things were currently unspeakably boring, so his focus had been waning. He seated himself as a hostess came to them. She said something about a performer?
And then, of course, Old Man Leinhart started listing his various titles that Damien was 100% sure that no one outside of Choisel cared about.

How well this guy and his father would get along was almost scary. He could almost see them throwing back crimson goblets and going on and on about how children today were and how things were so much better in the old days like, gods knew how many thousand years ago.
Ugh.

When the hostess looked at him, it took Damien about 4 seconds to realize that he was supposed to place an order.
"Umm, you wouldn't happen to have the blood of a liar, would you?"
Damien was really feeling like liar tonight. As he usually did. Though, he was on occasion known to take the blood of thieves. But they had to be DAMN good thieves. He had cravings for other kinds as well, but those were his two mains. 

Edited by HollowCipher

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The peace around the coven may seem foreign to outside vampires or humans. To such virgin eyes, the Copper City outside of Jidoor was stained a rusty brown with blood which, whether spilled by human or vampire, boiled with ancient hatred for one another. To its regulars, however, Jidoor Hall was a remnant of the old Tia— an example of how things could be that no longer were. It must also be noted, however, that without someone powerful holding an interest in this harmony, the Hall would just be another blown out, yawning shell of itself like so many other formerly great Tian establishments. Like La Belle Peches.

So embroiled in the inevitable bubbling up of racial tension were Tia’s lower denizens that they could not enjoy the finer things such as Jidoor (hence the detail of Problem Solvers). Many on both ends openly blamed the leading vampires, the Dolos clan, for the break in peace. It was public knowledge that the Dolos were in power and Jidoor Hall remained peaceful, though, so a clever individual might piece together that such peace must be by the Dolos clan’s design.

Much of the audience in the Hall turned away from the Choisel coven at the administration of Leinhart’s mysterious magic. Most who turned away were humans that were so drunk, mundane, or comfortable that they didn’t have the wherewithal to know any such power had settled upon them. All those whose heads were not turned away, though, felt the attempt to sway their eyes away. So instead, the more powerful residents of Jidoor bent their ears a little closer to the Choisel table. After all, something interesting must be happening if May had come in just to serve them.

“I have no idea who that is, but if there is a good whiskey on tap, I will have some of that,” said the human. The doctor. May looked upon Quin and her pupils dilated maybe just a little. She sauntered around the table and placed her book down beside the woman smoking a pipe. She placed it softly, silently, beside the woman, and leaned probably too close over her left shoulder.

“He is fantastic, but he’s not everyone’s taste,” she nearly whispered, her breath icy.  “Is Mage’s Mark an adequate whiskey?”

“We are the Choisel Coven, Leinhart Choisel is our Master and Leader.” said another one of the party; the woman with blue eyes and pretty skirts who May had seen lingering on her wings.

“Choisels! Welco-,” began the hostess, before being cut off by a bristling lad of a vampire.

"Easy there. Not everyone here is Choisel.” The naked hostess chuckled at Damien’s insistence on individuality before going on.

“My name is May, what other drinks can I get you started with?”

“I wasn’t much aware of this performer, I am delighted to see the performance. Anyway I may get a glass of wine?” Something in the way the clip-winged hostess looked at Tatia informed the lady that something wasn’t quite.. present.. about May. Even as they looked into each others eyes, May wearing a smile that told no tales on its own, her greys bore an emptiness that might make one feel they were talking to a machine.

“Umm, you wouldn't happen to have the blood of a liar, would you?" asked the bristling lad. Rings of blonde on either side of May’s temples tossed across her face as she whipped her head toward Damien.

“That is a most interesting and, might I tip my hand, coincidental request!” May grinned toothily, sharply, at the undoubtedly capable vamp. “I shall oblige,” she said dutifully, tongue poking from the corner of her mouth as she scrawled their orders on one of the pages of Revelations.

Then May turned to Leinhart, who fit himself in at the first natural available interval between speech.

”As ma’lady Tatia has said, I am the Patriarch of Vampires. Devil of all doers, the Kronos. It is a pleasgure to be served by the finest, yet what I request is an individual. Perhaps, you may know of this Demon named Benny?”

“Oooh,” said May, laughing with a short snort. She put on a face of imitated infatuation and sidled over to stand at his shoulder. “Well well well, a patriarch. You’re looking for a demon named Benny?" The look sloughed off, gave way to a half-convincing confusion. "That doesn’t sound familiar at all mister, but let me get your drinks and then I’ll see what I can do.”

Just then, with a gigantic mechanical whirring noise, Jidoor’s lights went out. As they did, lamps  in a rim around the stage went up. There was a singular suited figure on stage with his back to the crowd. He raised his hands, and another rim of light illuminated the further annals of the stage. A mass assortment of wind, brass, copper, and percussion instruments sat in the dimly lit backstage as Jonothon raised his hands. Sonorous vibration rose with them, beginning as a soft hum and coming to drown out all in the Hall.

May’s slender but beautiful figure could be seen silhouetted against the stage as she came back with a tray carrying their drinks. She had no book but did have her own cup, the wine, the whiskey. And the blood. The only feature visible on her shadowed front was her crooked smile. She doled out drinks as the sound escalated and sat beside Damien. Looking at all of them, swirling her cup of black tar, she waited silent and ragged-winged until the blasting noise filled all of their ears. At this point, even the leaning nobles who had overpowered Choisel’s parlor trick wouldn’t hear them.

“So,” her face got serious but she was still smiling, making her look like a naked playground bully planning her next attack. She was almost yelling, but her voice was barely audible to those seated before her. “What do you want with the Benefactor? I mean, sure he’s great for selling pretty much anything but he isn’t typically the route a vampire coven takes when they come to Tia.”

Up on stage Jonothon was pumping his arms with all his heart, and like a lover responding in earnest to the passionate thrusts, bass swelled and flutes fluttered on notes ever higher and lower. Lights pulsed around them, flashes of faces that ranged from the most grotesque to the most impossibly captivating flying by before the brain could comprehend. But the one constant for all of them, it seemed, would be May’s smile. Her lips weren’t especially red, but in the darkness her grin managed a crimson gleam.

Edited by amenities

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Feeling calmer, Quin put her feet up on the chair next to her and blew smoke rings into the air, attempting to make them chase the other around. She tuned out the Master as he spoke, even though she knew it was thanks to him that her nerves had finally calmed down enough for her to relax. She both loved and hated that about Vamps, sometimes her emotions were her own, and sometimes they were put there an she would be damned if she could tell which was which. 

When asked if Mage’s mark would be adequate she nodded her head, she was used to near turpentine so anything would be adequate. She gave her bag a gentile nudge with her arm, hearing the gentile clank of vials, reassuring her that the ‘goodnight kiss’ was still in there. She nearly died discovering that little gem and she would be damned if she allowed it to vanish under her watch. Her hand absentmindedly rubbed at the half healed puncture wound from the adrenaline needle that saved her life, the cost of research she supposed. It wasn’t the first time she nearly died from her own idiocy and it wouldn’t be the last.

A whiskey glass clinked down in front of her she raised it and gave a cheers to Martis, noticing his silent warning to the young Vandom. She took a drink and the smooth amber liquid slid down her throat like poisoned velvet, a smooth pleaseant burn. She held up the glass to admire the color when the lights clicked off with a mechanical whirring sound. She sat up in alarm, barely able to see the fingers in front of her face, let alone the glass. Just as quickly as the main lights went out, a series of lights set on a stage illuminated the silhouette of a figure as his arms raised, more lights revealed a collection of musicians, all with different instruments. A noise that started at first as soft began to grow, it grew and grew until it filled her ears and she could hear nothing else. 

She looked over at the others in their party, she noticed the hostess speaking with the Master, but their words were lost on her. So she gave up trying to listen to them and focused her attention on the music, taking another sip of whiskey and letting both sound and taste flood her senses in a rapture like bliss. 

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It was rather unfortunate that the social temperature here was so coexistent. Vampire and human alike befriended one another, did business together. Perhaps the few daring enough broke barriers by courting one another formally. It wasn't sickening at first glance, though as a slightly older Vampire himself, Alistair hated seeing his kind live as equals. As if they weren't superior in every aspect of life compared to the weak and mortal. This simply would not do. He would be damned if man would approach him and attempt to treat him as an equal. Without hesitation he would teach lessons as necessary, though he doubted the comprehension would be learned by man. And even if they comprehended it, would they get the chance to show that they had indeed learned their lesson? Either way, Leinhart would have to suffice with having no major moves made today. The delicate balance in place could, would, be disturbed. However, there was a right time for everything. For now, he would best serve himself by quietly returning to his party and remaining as a silent audience to the on-goings of their destination. Surely by now they had reached the club. So long as that demonic signature was the one of interest to the Master, he assumed correctly. Sticking the regular general public, Alistair walked in full glamour, as if he were simply a man himself. With his hand hanging freely as his sides, he naturally swayed them with his step. With purpose though without particular rush, he made way to reunite with his companions. 

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It wasn’t long before the odd looking vampiric woman returned with the drinks that Tatia and some of the others had ordered. Watching as her wine was set before her, reaching out she brought the wine glass to her soft pink painted lips. Sipping from the glass, her eyes shifted with the change of the music and the show that was being revealed to them.

Seemed like they were in the right place according to their hostess, as her brother took the reins on introductions after Tatia spoke for them. Leaning back in her chair with the glass of wine still in her hand, she would feel the silence of herself take hold.

Turning her icy blue gaze to the show upon the stage, she would appear to be paying more attention to the show that was being given. Although it appeared her mind was on something else, her hearing stayed on that of Leinhart and their crew in case she needed to act upon something or say a needed word.

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It was rather fortunate that just before Alistair came to join in with the rest from Choisel House; Martis managed to squeeze into a chair next to Quin, knowing the Vampire had an eye out for the Doctor since who could remember. Leinhart turned towards Martis, then the Dhampir did the same and looked facing Alistair upon his entrance across the area of the floor. Empty-handed, the Istrefi returned just by his lonesome. To no avail, or by the perception of things he fell unsuccessful in task. The Choisel rubbed at invisible hairs upon his broad chin as if to stroke a beard in contemplation, even scratched at the side of his coarse jet black mane of shoulder-length hair doing so without obvious intent. Only a fool addressed himself loudly in a room full of Others, provoking Tians as odds seemed against him. A small applause was given to the lady in her urgency towards the table, which was good that she lived up to expectations for the time being. Except one thing with her was a tad bit, off. Reading through not only the window to the Soul, Spirit, what ever these people called it now days in a time of Revelations. The eyes of the creature were far most deceiving, the Master immediately felt she kept her tongue shut and in fact knew more than what she mentioned. In all everything had it's Price, Lord Kronos knew her's was paid well to stay quiet. Would his Corrupt Will bend her judgement to his favor? Retaining his golden stare upon the winged-woman after she took off and Tatia drunk down the glass to his left, a sound like no other emitted from the building, instantly shutting off all power the room blackened without the yellow orbs to light. However, the lamps at the stage flicked on. At the assumption some exotic dancers were going to come from the different areas of the Hall, the sound of live percussion substituted the pervert idea with blasting noise. Almost too uncomfortable for the Pureblood, there was no way he was going to holler above the music. In awaiting May’s arrival from the backroom he would reply.

"Perhaps you have some where else we could discuss matters, away from the blare?"

 

 

Edited by Etched in Stone
Though I did want to continue, gotta keep rolling with story. I'm sorry guys it took forver! xx{

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Audience members were quickly folded into Jonothon’s performance. It was haunting, beautiful, visceral. The amalgam of noises that were all at once sonorous, vibrant, and whistling called to mind knives sliding against one another and the tearing of flesh. Indeed it was hostile music, and even though the viewers were enthralled with Oaxaki’s performance, the multitudinous colors dancing across the hall’s faces made it appear as if all were leering upon the Choisel coven in wait of what it was for which they searched.

The excited albeit surface twinkle in May’s eye registered a bit of surprise when Leinhart suggested they take the conversation elsewhere. Her gaze never probed anywhere else, just rested on the Choisel leader intently. There would be a pause in response to his request, as if she were to say “are you sure?” But after a few seconds she looked around at the drinks of the others, breaking the suspense.

“Of course! I’ll lead you to another suite where you can get more comfortable.”

She grabbed her goblet of stygian liquid and beckoned them follow her to a recess in the wall. It looked like a doorway, but there had never been a frame to it- just a rectangular hole in the wall. The corridor into which it led did not take them upward or loop back to the stage at all, but downward. The temperature around them grew dank, and the smell of mildew and blood filled their nostrils. The Hall grew further away as they traversed a torchlit underground tunnel toward more insidious parts of the city. After the immense sound of Oaxaki died away and all that accompanied them was the ragged-winged vampire of renown in Tia, May, she talked.

“So.” She repeated once more, not looking back, her voice bouncing once or twice off the walls around them before falling to an annoyed flat. It was no longer the sweet voice of there hostess, but a cold one of petulance as if a spell of cordiality formerly cast on her had worn off. “What does your coven want with the Benefactor?”

Edited by amenities

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Dragging a painted nail along the surface of the table, Maryanne lifted her glass to her lips and took a small sip as she observed the performance. While her eyes did not stray from the stage, she was keenly aware of what was happening around her, as she was sure the others were too. Making no move to follow as Leinhart as he and May departed, she finally dragged her gaze to the others seated at the table with her.

Noticing her nail had begun to gouge a line in the table, she stilled her hand and instead leaned back in her chair, wondering when Alistair would grace them with his presence. To pass the time Mary used her affinity for water to raise a blob of liquid up from her cup and shaped them into two figures holding close to one another as they danced to the music. She had them glide across the table, millimeters from the surface. They looped the perimeter of the table until they once more hovered over her glass. They spun around and around and around until finally, the lady figure positioned a blade behind the man's back, driving it through his tender flesh. Water sprayed and dripped from the wound as the figure crumbled and slipped back into the cup, fading into the remaining quarter of her drink. The female laughed as she plunged the blade into her own heart and sank down to join her in the finale to Maryanne's own macabre performance.

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As he arrived, Alistair witnessed the Master himself being escorted to a more exclusive area. This late in the meeting, he refused to insert himself directly. It didn't take long to take note that Maryanne had finally returned to the party and currently sat by her lonesome. She seemed as if she had something, or rather someone on her mind. A smirk grew on his face as he casually strolled over to her in manner that appeared more like floating than anything. Clearing his throat with zero necessity, he gestured to the seat across from his dearest and found his sincerest tone of sarcasm that would be convincing to lookers on that weren't already keen of his existence.

"Pardon me Mademoiselle, may I join you?"

When she looked at him, he delivered a charming wink before he allowed his smirk to grow wider. His goldenrod eyes looked to her's, flirting with the temptation of getting lost in them for eternity. Still concealed by his glamour, he came to her a man, an imitation of his former self for the sake of remaining more or less undercover in the presence of those that couldn't sense what he was. Perhaps those that could were simply not foolish enough to trifle with a brand of variety of Vampire that was greater than themselves. 

"Forgive me if I am being too forward, you are just so beautiful, I couldn't resist the urge to acquire your company during my visit here. If things go well, perhaps you will bless me with your divine company for the entire evening."

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Damien turned the glass up until his left fang touched the red liquid. Once it did, the suction muscles drained a bit of it, and deposited it neatly in his mouth. No need to spill.
He was instantly met with ecstasy. There truly was nothing quite like the blood of a stone cold liar. He was aware of the demoness woman sitting beside him, but almost as soon, she seemed to escort Old Man Lienhart to a back room. Damien had not been paying attention, as this whole bit was DREADFULLY boring, so the way he saw it, they either went back there to discuss business, or Old Man Lienhart was about to get laid. That idea amused Damien greatly.

He simply sat back and tried to enjoy the performance. Sure, it wasn't what he was used to, but it hardly mattered. It wasn't bad, and the drink was wonderful. Damien took another draining sip. Maybe this wouldn't be the world class bore he thought it would be.

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Smoking her pipe she wasn’t aware of the Master’s exit, nor did she care. The dischord and din caused by the music nearly sent her retreating away so she could save her ears. She was never one for music for prolonged periods of time, it wasn’t her thing. 

Taking her whiskey in hand, pipe clenched between her teeth, she retreated back to the beauty of the lobby. She would explore the place and look at its marvels. The beautiful fountains, the carvings and sweeping arches. The statues and artwork that added a touch of class and glamour all at the same time. She could still hear the music, but it was a little more tolerable as it wasn’t overwhelming her senses. 

Her alterior motive to look for a fix that would ease the dull ache that was setting into her chest as it always did when she started to come down. She thought she was doing a good job of hiding it well, the self medicating - but then again, those vamps always seemed to know what she was up to. It was increasingly difficult to do while traveling, she hadn’t a moment to sneak off on her own until now. 

Downing her whiskey she spotted a likely candidate to help her in her quest and momentarily disappeared behind a curtain with them from a simple nod. Whatever the poison of choice was she didn’t care, so long as it got rid of the ache that set in.

Edited by DarkHorse

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Tatia sat sipping the red wine that was served, her eyes shifted to her brother as he mentioned that he wanted to go somewhere quieter. Shifting in her chair to watch him stand and be led away, she combatted the urge to get up and follow him to the back room where he was being taken. Deciding to stay at the table with the rest of the Coven and those who accompanied them, hoping to keep an eye on those who may need her to step in at a moments notice.

The performance on the stage would take her attention away from the backside of Leinhart as he disappeared, the music was loud and different from the stuff she loved to listen to in her own private room.

She understood that they were in Tia for one reason or another, although she didn’t get so deeply involved with what was happening. Following her brother was all she cared about for the moment, as she still worked on grasping what and who she was to be after being resurrected. Obviously stuck inside her mind, Tatia's fingers would dance over the glass that held what little red liquid she was drinking. Feeling her own hunger rise up, she knew that she would have to feed sometime that evening. With or without her brother, Tatia had to take care of herself and those she would grow close to. 

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Obsidian Cowhide loafers clicked to their destination. The long fleece pea coat tailing gently behind his person and ringlets of ash hair  remained flowing with the rest of him. With eyes behind the head he meandered from the dance floor. The audience was locked in the Oaxaki’s performance, but even then there were few and some peeking their noses a little further than should. The duo slippped away from sight from  a hole in the wall, open to the rest of the public that seen their exit. He nonchalantly brushed it over in a shrug. 

“This is quite a suite, you’ve got here.”

Of course in all honesty, Lord Kronos was being sarcastic considering the woman mentioned a more private quarter for their conversation. Well, it was private and away from said ruckus though, the very unpleasant putrid odors of mildew mixing with Blood tasted sour to his senses. Yet without discouraging her further, any other thoughts were kept to himself in secret silence. Staying with the rest of the Coven and remaining in sight, or somewhat close, deemed itself a more suitable area for the type of conversation soon to display. Now they stood together, underground in what could of been sewage routes beneath a Tavern; minus the light sconces high above the head and the smell of actual waste waters or toxic pollutes.

“I’m aware of the relics he possesses. Perhaps me and the Benny could promote some good business together?”

 

Edited by Etched in Stone
Paradgraph was accidentally deleted on mobile. I’d have to redeem myself on next turn. Don’t want to further halt our run. Just noticed, it’s been a year we’ve been running this plot. That makes me feel terrible lmao.

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