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Mar 27, 2023 19:09:32 GMT -5
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Post by Arthur Pendragon on Apr 5, 2011 12:37:16 GMT -5
This journey had been a rather leisurely one thus far. Which was a relief for Arthur had enough on his mind to concern himself with . . . at the same time, he knew he shouldn't be worried at all. He was happy that his father had fallen in love again and gotten married. Though, it was all happening a bit too fast for Arthur's liking. At the same time, he had never seen his father so . . . happy. Too happy. He looked almost drunk with love more than half the time. But perhaps that was what it was like to be in love with another. Arthur had only recently grown familiar with the emotion -- thanks to a fair maiden -- but had never been able to publicize it mostly due to the fact that they knew it was not possible. Yet, every day, he seemed to weaken a bit more as the hope that a future between them became more and more realistic, even attainable . . . somehow. Right now, he had to focus on the matter at hand, though it was difficult to remain in concentration with Guinevère so close, and with Arthur's duties requiring him to remain in their company.
The king had sent out a group of maids and nobles -- knights included to ensure their protection -- to retrieve some elaborate garments for the celebrations, both the wedding and the events that followed. Lady Catrina did not seem to be picky, but the king was very particular about the fact that she was to get her hearts desires . . . so fabric, jewels, the works. Shopping was not Arthur's forte. That was why he had been designated as the leader to escort them. Which was fine by him. The women could do all the shopping, he would just wander around. To draw less attention to themselves, as they were at a large market in an outlying village and there was no need to bring the focus on to them, Arthur was void of any armor. He had gotten aid removing it when they checked into a nearby inn for those who wished to rest. Instead, he was dressed in casual attire, a coat over his shirt, and only a sword at his side. Most of them just wanted to get the job done, so that they could return to Camelot sooner, so many of the maidens were out and about, searching for good pieces of cloth, as this market had a wide range to offer. More expensive as well than most other villages . . . and the excellent quality was probably why the streets were so filled with people.
Though, even among the crowd, his gaze rested on the one woman that he wished to see, and wished he could spend more time with. It did not take long to find her. Arthur kept a great distance between them as she was on one side of the road where as he was on the other. But as he walked forward, his gaze continued to rest on her. He was distracted by her beauty, struggling with the fact that he could not just run up to her and shop with her, converse casually with her, even proudly take her hand and walk through the streets with her. Instead, all he could do was walk along by himself, looking at her, seeing she was safe, captivated by just looking at her and feeling all of his emotions build up, wondering how he had managed to miss or fail to recognize everything she now encapsulated, in the previous years. It was taking a great deal of strength just to compose himself, but because he was forced to do this on a daily basis, every time he saw her, he was sadly, growing accustomed to it.He only occasionally looked forward when he had to see where he was going, as he tried to remain subtle in what had caught his attention, or who rather.
Setting: An outlying village, in a random kingdom, which apparently has nice fabric Time of Day: Afternoon Timeline: During Beauty and the Beast I Tag: Guinevère and Freya Notes: As you can see, I left the Kingdom name vague, so either of you, feel free to make it up!
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Jan 2, 2022 18:42:54 GMT -5
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Post by Guinevère on Apr 5, 2011 13:39:05 GMT -5
As until the wedding took place, Morgana was still the highest ranking female of the court her handmaiden had been chosen to both train the new queen's as well help choose the fabrics that would grace the queen's body during the wedding . . . the wedding night . . . and the weeks to follow. Guinevère knew nothing about the lady in question so it was exceedingly hard for her to decide on the anything but the satin white for the wedding dress. Even then, choosing the fabric for the gown she would wear that night was awkward. Still, she took highest pride int he fact that ht eking had thought she was best for the job rather then someone suggesting her for him. Even if she disliked the man personally--professionally this was the highest of high honors.
Guinevère reached an hand up to touch the softest of fabrics that one merchant was selling. It was the softest of pinks she had ever seen. Light year bright and bold. Near it was a darker pink that would match it perfectly while the tones would contrast and blend. Aside from the purple dress she had at home; most her clothing were as she wore today. A faded red of course fabric; that was cheaper to buy and easier to sew on. She had a while dress that she'd bought with her savings; and then the purple fabric had come as a gift in return to a favor she had done for a dearest of friends. 'Are you going to buy that for ye mistress?' The man demanded of her and Guinevère's hand fell back down, knowing that was his subtle way of asking her to move along if she wasn't purchasing more. "No, thank you." She looked at the perfect hues of pink again for just a moment, however; knowing that she had been smart she could have brought her own coins and gotten it. She had however not wanted to travel with anything of value, having been kidnapped before.
Lifting the fabric she was purchasing into her arms she turned hand what she had just purchased to the maid she was training. She paused however when her eyes meet Arthur's. Slowly a smile spread over her lips as for a moment there was no one else around there. No market, no stalls, no people, no nothing. It was as if they were the only two for miles and miles and miles. After a moment, Guinevère passed the fabric to the girl and asked her if she would take them back to the inn and that she would meet her there after she checked to make sure they had gotten everything asked of them. The girl took high stack of clothing and hurried off along with the guard that had been following them to protect both the coin given to them as well as the purchases they made in the king's name; rather then to protect their persons.
The guard gave a pause when he realized that he could not go with both the purchases to guard it and nor could he stay with her in the market to make sure no one robbed her of the coins (or to make sure that she just did not claim to be robbed and pocketed the coins). Guinevère gave him a soft smile and gestured over to the prince. "I will turn them in to him, immediately." She told him softly, knowing that it wasn't personal. Clearly the guard trusted her to do so because he gave her a nod before hurrying after the other girl.
Guinevère looked back at Arthur and slowly crossed the small market street. She'd spent more then she made in two years today int he name of the king and they had only just started. Guinevère held the bag of coins up to him as she spoke, "Your father will be pleased, it seemed they had everything he wanted here."
(¯`v´¯) .`·.¸.·´ ♥ ¸.·´¸.·´¨) ¸.·*¨) (¸.·´ (¸.·´ .·´ ¸¸.·¨¯`·.♥
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Dec 15, 2011 14:39:42 GMT -5
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Post by sissy on Apr 5, 2011 17:03:11 GMT -5
Home. She dreamt of her home. The lake in the summer, filled with beauty and light. The scent of the summer breeze seemed to surround her and for a blessed moment, she didn’t feel afraid. So beautiful. If only she could stay but she knew how it was, she knew she couldn’t. She didn’t deserve to taint the beautiful memory with her dark presence. She wasn’t worthy. She was cursed.
Perhaps it was such thoughts that pulled her from the memory of her home and placed her squarely into the cold reality of her existence. Freya awoke alone in what seemed to be a forest. It was without fail, the night before at the stroke of midnight… She had become the creature and the lives she had taken while she was in that terrible form would haunt her forever. It was not as though she had no memory of her killing while she was the bastet, she saw everything and was fully aware of what she was doing but she was unable to stop herself. She had been cruel in her punishment, the mother of the man she had killed. Her heart pounded as she slowly rose to a sitting position, knowing full well what lay just over the hill. Two. She had killed a pair of lovers who had stolen away to be with one another. She had stalked them for quite sometime, the beast so loved to stalk its prey before it made the kill. Didn’t even eat the corpses, it was all a game to the bastet and that was what killed Freya deep down.
Dare she look? No, she didn’t need to see their mangled bodies; the look of horror on their faces was engrained into her mind for what may be all time so she did not have any need to see it again. Instead she pushed herself to her feet and stumbled somewhat to the edge of the forest as she was not too far from it. The stench of death pervaded the air like a pungent odor; it wouldn’t be too long before the bodies were discovered along with her footprints, always the clearest indication that it was no mere beast that had done it but rather a creature of magic. A bastet. A monster.
She had to keep moving because she was certain that not too far behind her was the relentless bounty hunter Halig. She had crossed paths with him before and the dangerous man seemed to be intent on capturing her and taking her to Camelot. She knew why of course. There was very few that did not know of the King’s hatred for magic and while before she had been cursed by the sorcereress she had used magic, she too feared magic for what it could do. It was not as gentle as it seemed when she had been with the druids, it had a dangerous side that had taken over her life and stolen any chance of ever being normal. Always on the move, always looking over her shoulder. What sort of life was that for a young girl who was still so young?
Hunger. She felt that first and foremost. She had to eat to keep up her strength. Running on an empty stomach wasn’t the safest thing in the world. Still, venturing into the village that lay just beyond the forest didn’t seem very safe for her either. The two she had killed had been from that village and when they found the bodies, they would seek outsiders and if she was caught amongst them when that happened… She couldn’t face being taken by Halig, she just couldn’t. The grumbling of her stomach caused her decision to be made. She would venture into the village but she would keep to herself. Looking down at her appearance, she sighed somewhat. She looked like a poor beggar, her clothing tattered and her hair in disarray. Pulling a leaf from her ebony hair, Freya made her way into the village, her eyes down on the ground as she was unable to meet anyone’s gaze. With each step she took, her heart seemed to race more and more. She was always like this, always living in fear that she would be recognized from one of the other villages she had been chased out of. So far so good.
Freya did a combination of sticking to the shadows and trying to remain inconspicuous. Not an easy combination to say the least. She would feel a chill run up and down her spine when someone would look at her, resisting the urge to freeze in fear. Having no money meant that Freya had to resort to stealing in order to eat. She knew it was wrong and she wasn’t proud of it but one did what they had to to survive and Freya was no exception. She had made it to the market where it bustled with life. She couldn’t have known that she was in the presence of visiting royalty. Had Freya known that the song of the magic-hater was present than she would have left right away. The sounds and smells of the marketplace were somewhat relaxing but the druid girl wasn’t able to relax, not ever. Instead her eyes sought out something small and hopefully unnoticeable to take.
Her dark eyes fell upon a small booth filled with freshly picked fruit. It smelled divine and she could not help looking at the strawberries that seemed to call to her. How long had it been since she had tasted such sweetness? She could not remember. Instead of wasting time thinking back, she casually walked over to the stall and waited for the vendor to speak with someone before she quickly grabbed three strawberries. Unfortunately she wasn’t quick enough and a rough hand grabbed hold of her wrist. “No one steals from me.” He snarled in her face.
Eyes wide, the girl pulled back, trying to get away. She dropped all but one strawberry at this point and somehow she was able to slip from his grasp. She had to run! And run she did but whilst looking over her shoulder, she was unable to see those in front of her and she crashed right into Arthur from behind and fell to the ground with the angry vendor not too far behind them.
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Tags; Arthur and Guinevère Word Count; 1080 Lyrics; Shattered by Trading Yesterday Time-frame; Afternoon – During ‘Beauty and the Beast’
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Royal
"For the love of Camelot!"
Personal Text
Complicated
Relationship Status
Knight | Prince | King
Occupation
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euphoria
Offline
Mar 27, 2023 19:09:32 GMT -5
Tag me @arthur
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Post by Arthur Pendragon on Apr 6, 2011 17:48:00 GMT -5
Arthur had been watching her closely enough to know the gist of why she was coming towards him -- though he obviously welcomed any opportunity for her to be in his company. As the guard watched to make sure she kept her word, he hurried along after the woman. He knew it was not necessary for her to give him the coins. He trusted her completely and knew she would not selfishly spend them. Most of the guards were now preoccupied with something else, so perhaps this would permit them to spend some time together without arousing any sorts of suspicion. It was getting more and more difficult for him to keep his respective distance from her. He had once told her that his father would never understand, and that should have been the end of it. But it was not. Quite the opposite actually. They had grown. Besides, if his father could love and marry a woman who had no political gain, then why couldn't he? Of course, there was that small issue of nobility, but surely . . . there was a way to move past this? Arthur needed to snap out of these thoughts that often consumed his mind.
He shook his head a bit. "Keep it for now. You never know what else you may find," he told her. As there was no one watching, there was no need for her actually to pass it to him. Then again, even if someone was watching, he trusted her and would not let his actions betray that. He was going to suggest that they continue to look through the market, for the sole purpose of walking alongside her, when he felt something -- someone -- collide with him. As his back was turned to wards them, he had not seen whoever it was approaching, until they made contacted. It turned to look, to see who it was, but only caught a brief glance as an angry man running towards them soon joined the scene. And angry was right. He looked downright furious.
The man moved towards her, looking like he was about to grab her aggressively, when Arthur took a step forward. "What is the meaning of this?" He questioned. While he was dressed in casual clothing, his voice held a strong tone of authority, as it came naturally to someone who was raised to be the future ruler of a kingdom. Whether the man accepted it or not, he had become instantly involved in whatever problem he had with the young woman.
"Mind your business! She stole from me, and I'm handing her over to the authorities," the vendor retorted. Arthur knew that technically, it was not his business, but he had made it so. Arthur's gaze fell to the accused. She was a young woman, and not only that . . . she looked disheveled, tired, weak, and was dressed in scraps of cloth. It was clear that she came from a poor background, a peasant if Arthur guessed correctly. Judging from her condition, state and apparent fear in her eyes, it also became clear that whatever she stole, came out of desperation. He trusted his judgment enough to feel sympathetic towards her.
Arthur did not ask what she stole, nor did he verbally question her motives -- as previously decided, they seemed fairly obvious. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a couple of coins, tossing them to the vendor. "That should cover it." Despite Arthur's lack of knowledge over what she did steal, he had paid the man far more than what it could have possibly been. She was not carrying anything, and if it was food then it did not seem she had time to eat it as he had been on her trail. So either way, whatever it was, could not have cost as much as he just paid the man. But the vendor was dissatisfied.
"She still needs to be punished." Meaning, he wanted to turn her in. While the prince did not condone stealing . . . his sympathy was stronger for the woman than it was for the man. Besides, he knew the man's reasoning. It was a pride thing. Arthur knew all about pride. The vendor clearly took the criminal act as a personal offense, but further more, he had lost control of the situation with Arthur's intervention. Such things mattered little to the Prince . . . so long as he got his way in the end, which he was determined to do. "I doubt she took a great deal from you, and you have already been paid for it. It's settled." His words were spoken bluntly, with sternness and strength as if he was stating that he had the final say on the matter, which in actuality, he was.
The vendor still looked displeased. He glared firstly at Arthur, then at the woman, then back at Arthur. His eyes fell to Arthur's waist, clearly eying the sword strapped to his belt. This acknowledgment of the weapon, and the dangers of an argument intensifying with an armed man, was too much of a risk. So eventually, the man scuffled off. So much for not drawing attention to themselves in this village. It seemed he had already made an enemy. But Arthur would not concern himself over it. Besides, it was a small price to pay to ensure the safety of a young woman. She would have been given a harsh punishment no doubt for it looked as if she had little support surrounding her. After eying the man carefully, making sure he left and was at a safe distance, he looked down at the girl who Gwen had already aided.
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Jan 2, 2022 18:42:54 GMT -5
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Post by Guinevère on May 7, 2011 23:20:43 GMT -5
"You should hold on to it." She countered, "In case there is thieves about whom might try to take it. I would not want to be responsible for such a lost." While it might not be allot of coins to him, it was to her. She still did not want to waste money, no matter how much he had to waste. Before he could answer however someone crashed into him and chaos erupted around them. Guinevère saw the pale and frightened woman on the ground and dropped down to assist her, and help her up if she could.
She stayed silent while watching Arthur and the man have words, while holding on to the girl tightly. She did not know her but she would not have wanted harm to come to anyone. Guinevère knew that Arthur would never left a woman be harmed by a man in anger, but she still felt the fear of the moment, and might have held on to the girl a little tiny bit tighter then necessary. When the man started walking away Guinevère finally looked at the small framed girl.
"Are you alright?" She asked while trying to see if there had been any injury done to her before she had 'found' Arthur in the market. It appeared other then being too small framed and in a bad need of a bath and new clothing she was not harmed. Perhaps just frightened and hungry?
(¯`v´¯) .`·.¸.·´ ♥ ¸.·´¸.·´¨) ¸.·*¨) (¸.·´ (¸.·´ .·´ ¸¸.·¨¯`·.♥
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Dec 15, 2011 14:39:42 GMT -5
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Post by sissy on May 10, 2011 16:29:24 GMT -5
It was pathetic really, that Freya would be reduced to stealing a few pieces of fruit to feed herself. The sorceress had truly done well in her punishment on the druidess who had killed her son, she had turned Freya’s life into a living nightmare with pretty much no relief. How Freya had survived this long, the young girl had no idea. She was scared as she ran from the fruit vendor, knowing what would happen if he caught her… no ‘when’ he caught her. Such a thought entered her mind as she struck against another body and fell to the ground. In her blind attempt at escaping, she hadn’t taken notice of those in her way. She didn’t know Prince Arthur by sight anyway so even if he had been dressed as himself and not incognito, she wouldn’t have known who he was. All she knew was that she had been stopped in her escape and the vendor would surely catch her now and punish her as he saw fit. She had to wonder if perhaps she’d do better behind bars… No. She knew the answer to that. She couldn’t allow that to happen, not only for her sake but others as well.
Freya paid little attention to the man she had bumped into at first, her wide eyes resting on the vendor who was getting closer, his anger palpable. Yet both she and the fruit vendor were surprised at the authoritative tone that rang out behind them. A lord perhaps? It was young, not much older than Freya if she was guessing right. Whoever it was, the man was used to being obeyed, such as his tone suggested. Shaking visibly, Freya slowly looked up at Arthur, unsure as to what to say. Not that she had to say anything as the vendor angrily demanded that he mind his own business. He spoke of her offense and Freya couldn’t deny that it wasn’t true because it was. She had stolen from him and it had been wrong but she was desperate and so weak. A few pieces of fruit, surely it wouldn’t be missed. Why pursue her over such small things? Even in the midst of all this, Freya still held one little strawberry in her fist, not tight enough to crush it but firm enough that she didn’t drop it.
What would happen to her now? Her lungs ached from running and her heart still raced despite having halted her running. She was scared that she would be handed over to this man or just handed directly over to the authorities. It wouldn’t surprise her, she was a thief after all. Would they kill her when they placed the druid in a cell and later found a beast in her stead once midnight struck? Maybe that was what needed to happen. She didn’t want to die but she didn’t want to continue to kill people. Cowering on the ground, Freya made no attempt at getting up from the ground, she figured moving would call even more attention to her and she didn’t want that. Really Arthur had no right to interfere in this matter but Freya wasn’t complaining, especially when Arthur did something surprising by handing over some gold to the man. Paying him more than enough for the stolen fruit. What was he doing? Why? He owed her nothing. So why was he helping her? It was not only Arthur who surprised Freya but the woman who had been with him. She was pretty and dressed nicely, perhaps another noble but if that was the case, why would she care anything about a poor beggar girl?
Getting to her feet with Gwen’s help, Freya was too frightened of the possible outcome to shy away from Gwen’s touch. Trembling still, she clung somewhat to the other girl as she eyed both men. Even still, with the money given, the vendor wished to turn the poor girl in. Tears brimmed behind her dark eyes and she whimpered, scuttling back some, readying herself to try and take off again if the vendor or the other man came towards her. Arthur could have easily allowed it to happen, this matter didn’t concern him or his lovely companion but he did not allow the vendor near Freya. He rebuffed the vendor, settling the matter in a way that further angered the man but he did not argue. Perhaps he knew it was a losing battle not worth his time and effort. Whatever it was, Freya felt a cold wave of relief strike her when the man walked away. It was only then that she realized she had been holding her breath that long, so fearful that he would have her turned in.
With that tense situation all but over, Freya was able to relax to a small degree, looking at Arthur for a few moments and then Gwen. She asked if she was alright and Freya immediately looked down at the ground and nodded. It wasn’t that she wasn’t grateful because she was, very much so. It was just that she did not feel worthy to look them in the eye nor had she been worthy of their help. She wasn’t very good in interacting with people and was unsure how to go about this. Of course there was one thing that she had to take care of. “T-Thank you for helping me.” She finally said, her soft voice coming out as a hoarse whisper. Steadying herself, she extended her one hand and slowly unclenched her hand to reveal the small strawberry that she had clutched so tightly in her hand for dear life. Her way of thanks, offering the Prince the one thing she had wanted so badly. She didn’t deserve it anyway. “Why did you help me?” She finally asked after a few moments, her uncertainty still obvious in her body language. She was still scared but no longer because of the vendor but for other reasons.
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Tags; Arthur and Guinevère Word Count; 1020 Lyrics; Shattered by Trading Yesterday Time-frame; Afternoon – During ‘Beauty and the Beast’
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Royal
"For the love of Camelot!"
Personal Text
Complicated
Relationship Status
Knight | Prince | King
Occupation
|
euphoria
Offline
Mar 27, 2023 19:09:32 GMT -5
Tag me @arthur
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Post by Arthur Pendragon on May 11, 2011 18:57:50 GMT -5
Arthur kept his eyes on both women, having so many questions about where this woman had come from, what had happened. But they seemed so irrelevant right now. She just seemed so . . . scared. Was that the right word? Shaken a bit. But then that made sense as she had a mad vendor chasing after her. Had she come from a village that had been attacked? She seemed timid enough, almost afraid to even look at either him or Guinevère. This time, he knew it was not out of respect because he was royalty, for she had no idea of his position. It was out of something more, perhaps just her overall shy demeanor. Arthur watched her as she extended her hand, revealing a strawberry. The prince had to refrain from making a face, and instead just looked overly composed. Really? Really?! That was what she had taken to upset the vendor so much? A measly strawberry?! Arthur had paid him for over a dozen of strawberries! It was most definitely a pride thing, without a doubt. âWhy did you help me?â This was one question that Arthur did not know how to answer.
There was no answer. He had helped her because it was the right thing to do. Because he refused to be a bystander, a silent spectator who just watched scenes unfold before him when he knew he had the potential to help someone. But he was not about to explain his motives. The question itself led him to believe that she was not used to getting help from others. Otherwise, she might have expected it more . . . perhaps even taken it for granted. But no. She appeared to be genuinely surprised to see that two people would have stood up of of her, were trying to help her, and would continue to help her. Arthur's silence followed her question. He looked about the market place, seeing a few vendors which would have food. She looked like she needed something more than simply a strawberry to eat. Maybe somewhere she looked relax. He decided that perhaps the best place for her to do this would be the inn, for they had a small diner in which she could order some food. Somehow though, he had a feeling that if he asked her she may not take him up on her offer. So instead, he just assumed and made the decision for her.
"If you can take her to the inn, and get some food for her," Arthur asked Guinevère rather than commanded. He was not one to order Guinevère about so he made sure his tone was a bit softer. He was also indicating that she was to use the coins in the pouch which she held. It did not matter if it was reserved for things pertaining to the wedding. This was of importance as well. He then took off his jacket, unsure of how much the girl would recoil from his touch. Sometimes, it was easier to accept help from a woman in such a way than a man for if she was traumatized, a man being closer to her may not exactly be the most comforting thing. So instead, he passed it to Guinevère, knowing that she would understand what it was meant for: to drape over the young girl for warmth and comfort for she seemed cold and still a bit shaken. "I will join you shortly," he assured both of them, not wanting to leave them on their own for who knew the extent of the vindictiveness of the vendor, and he did not want Guinevère to have to deal with the angry man's wrath. With those words, he gave a bit of a nod to both women and turned to make his way to the stalls. The young girl looked like she needed a cloak of some sort, for she surely could not walk around with such scraps of cloth.
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