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Post by Lady Astrid Stormstone on Mar 18, 2023 22:14:26 GMT -5
Astrid stands back to the side and watches Del suddenly transform into an absolute monster of a woman. Not physically, but mentally. She takes on a persona that would put the fear of customer service into anyone. And with ease, she gets the right information out of a couple of woodworkers. It’s impressive, honestly. It takes her back to that time Cantio got angry enough to tell a dwarf off in the middle of a busy tavern.
When Del comes back, Astrid gives her a quiet, slow round of applause. “That was impressive too,” she says. “I don’t think I coulda been like that ta folks who didn’t do nothin’. But gimme someone who does? I’ll be real mean if I hafta. Me gran an’ I threatened ta feed an old wizard ta her drake. Deservedly, of course.”
Astrid gives Del a little wink. “So we’re lookin’ fer the potter, Rowlin’. That’ll be easy enough ta find, ‘specially if he’s got a bad reputation.” She starts walking down the street with Del, glancing around for anyone working with clay.
“Are ya from here?” Astrid asks. “If ya don’t mind me askin’. I know some folks don’t like ta talk about where they’re from.”
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Post by Delaela Fenastra-Asiliari on Mar 19, 2023 11:52:03 GMT -5
Del makes a face, taking the compliment of course, but also hating what she did as well. She dips a small bow and gives Astrid a sheepish chuckle. "I'm not proud of it, but if I ever need to come back here, I hope that acting an entirely different way would convince them that I'm not the same person at all. They'll at least remember someone who gave them what-for for something not in their control, if anyone comes asking." A disgruntled customer was a lot less suspect than a craftsperson who was clearly fishing for information.
"If he's not being protected or harbored by someone, or that group that might be responsible, I think it will be. It sounds like he would be fairly expendable, all things considered," Del reasons. Not well liked, made bad products. If he knew he was expendable too, maybe he would be willing to give up any locations of the group responsible so they could be properly stopped?
Del looks over at Astrid with a blink as she asks after her. Oh. "Oh, no, I don't mind at all. It's a good question. I lived for a long while in the Crescent Isles, so I consider that 'where I'm from', but I don't remember where I was born. I have a pretty large gap of memory loss; Hit my head seventy years or so ago, give or take." That information was for free as far as Del was concerned; she lifts her shoulder in a light shrug, smiling. "I've been travelling for the last thirty or so, though, so I've been all over. What about yourself? Your accent is a bit difficult to place. Are you and your dad from the same place? If you don't mind me asking, of course." She adds, a lopsided curve to her smile.
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Post by Lady Astrid Stormstone on Mar 30, 2023 19:26:56 GMT -5
Not once has Astrid ever thought about how long an elf lives. She’s heard tales of elves living for hundreds of years, but that kind of life is so far out of the realm of anything Astrid would expect to experience, that it just never crossed her mind. So to hear Del throwing around decades here and there like measly months or years is surprising at the very least, and the young half-dwarf’s expression says that plain as day.
“Maybe ya need a helmet,” is all she can manage to mutter upon hearing that Del somehow managed to lose an entire human lifespan from a bonk on the head.
It takes a moment for Astrid to bring herself back into having a real conversation again. “Sorry, I s’pose I didn’t know elves lived that long fer real, ya know?” she says with an awkward smile. “I only know a coupla elves. But ya’ve been travelin’ around longer than me da’s been alive, I think. He’s um… from Sol City, an’ I’m from Dragon’s Cradle best I know. Might be from Frost Gale. I dunno. Wherever dwarves are from, I guess.”
After spending almost half her life on the streets in Sky Peak Village and now properly living there, Astrid doesn’t often think about where she really came from. Better to focus on the here and now. “S’pose me accent would be a bit thicker if I spent more time with dwarves, but they’re mostly superstitious jerks. Da’s a fellblood, but we ain’t related.”
The incredulity comes back to her. “How d’ya just forget all them years?? I’m only twelve an’ I don’t remember most of me life when I was real small. Just bits here and there. Is it like that fer ya? But like… a lotta years??”
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Post by Delaela Fenastra-Asiliari on Apr 1, 2023 14:14:22 GMT -5
Del hears the quiet mutter, and has to bite the inside of her cheek to prevent herself from snorting too loudly at the audacious little comment, though the laugh does squeak through. Shouldn't encourage that, even if it was very funny. Maybe she should have a helmet. "No, I understand; it's sort of a difficult thing to quantify when numbers get to be that big. Saying you can live for, oh, five hundred, six hundred years is one thing, but to understand what that looks like or must feel like has to be another thing entirely. On the flip-side of that, because we age differently, I have a lot of trouble understanding how old other people are."
In that vein, very briefly, Del marvels at the fact that so much time is missing for her. Even for an elf, nearly three hundred missing years was no small thing.
She sets that aside though, as Astrid brings up what she does know, and smiles. "Oh, do you? I hope they've been good to you." Her head tilts a little as she explains that she doesn't quite know where she's from, but has a good hunch. And, that her dad is not related to her, a Fellblood. Del gives her a smile, "Dragons Cradle, mm? I'm living in Darkveil myself at the moment, helping out at an orphanage. I'm not sure myself, most of the dwarves I know were from Frost Gale, but my mentor was on the Crescent Isles. So, I can speak a bit of the Stone tongue," Del adds in Dwarvish, a thick brogue that rolls off her tongue.
She switches back to the more common tongue, though, as they continue, "Superstitious of what, if I may ask?"
"Mm..." Del hums thoughtfully as they round a corner, slowing her pace a bit. Not wanting to alert who they're after by speaking too loudly too near the kilns, though there's a good bit of working noise that provides cover anyway. "Sort of? I'm not sure how I forgot all of those years. I hit my head pretty badly, nearly drowned. That might have had a pretty big impact on-- wait, you're twelve?" Del blinks. She tries to do the math; Twelve was a baby to pretty much any race of people, right? "Okay. Well, uhhh let me see if I can try to make it make sense." Del pauses as she furrows her brow.
"I don't remember anything from my childhood, my adolescence, or my early adulthood," Del explains slowly, as if making sure on her own end as well. "I remember bits and pieces after I was rescued from the river to about a week later. Everything from then to now, I remember clearly."
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Post by Lady Astrid Stormstone on Apr 1, 2023 19:17:52 GMT -5
Del sure is throwing around some really big numbers. Do elves really live that long? How old is Cyran? Or Cirice?? They don’t seem too far apart in age, but their personalities and experiences differ entirely. Gods, Kamille is a half-elf, is she much older than she looks? What even constitutes “looking” a certain age now? If Astrid’s eyes could spin while she goes down the rabbit hole, they would.
She’s pulled from her pondering when Del continues. “Uh, yeah, they’ve been nice ta me,” she says. “Only met ‘em a coupla times, but I like ‘em a fair bit. An’ yeah, most dwarves live up there, but I’ve seen ‘em all over.” It’s pretty amusing when Del switches to dwarvish for a moment, and Astrid grins. “Oh, ya know dwarves are superstitious about just about anythin’, it seems. Don’t particularly like Fellbloods or anyone like ‘em in me experience.” She taps the little red horns poking out of her head. Something about her blasé attitude says she’s decided not to be upset about it.
“Aye, twelve’s what I said,” Astrid giggles a little as she sees Del caught off guard. It never gets old. “Bet that seems like a baby ta ya, don’t it?” As Del talks about her amnesia, Astrid listens, nodding along in some understanding. She’s heard of people forgetting things before – Blue Raspberry forgets things all the time.
Then her expression suddenly drops as something Del said before catches up to her. Wait, an orphanage in Darkveil??
“Erm, ya said yer helpin’ at an orphanage in Darkveil?” There aren’t a lot of orphanages in Darkveil, that’s kind of why it’s a cruddy place to live. No, that’d be too much of a coincidence. She decides to ask. “It don’t happen ta be run by a guy named Cyran, do it?”
Follow up note, Del needs a helmet that also allows her to breathe underwater.
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Post by Delaela Fenastra-Asiliari on Apr 3, 2023 19:20:58 GMT -5
"Good." She might have to have some words with anyone that wasn't. Beyond Astrid being a child, she was also a delight. Del shakes her head, "My mentor would have liked you, horns or no. He always liked the feisty ones." A wistful smile appears for a moment before it vanishes, at the last question. "Thier loss. When they hear what a fantastic smith you are and how many people want to commission you armor, they'll be kicking themselves for dismissing you."
As a Sylvan Elf, Del understood a little how it felt to be on the discriminated side of things, but she had it quite easy compared with Fellbloods, Orcs, Goblins or other less-than common peoples that weren't in power. Especially in longer lived races, those old ways of thinking ran deep. Then again, if anyone could change the tide of opinion, it was the youth of the day. They just needed older voices like hers to bolster them.
Blinking in surprise, she turns to Astrid, pausing in her stride. She pulls closer to a wall so they don't stand in the middle of the street while speaking. "I... uh, yes, I do. We're good... friends, he and I." Friends didn't seem like a strong enough word to highlight the depth of their connection, but it was accurate. Her cheeks darken in hue. "You've met him before? What circumstances might that have been?" Astrid had said she was from Dragon's Cradle, as best as she knew, anyway, so she likely wasn't one of Cyran's charges that had just been adopted before she arrived in Darkveil. She puts on a slight smile. "I've actually been helping out with some of the carpentry with the place, but I, ah, might be seeing about buying shop in sometime soon. A proper forge."
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Post by Lady Astrid Stormstone on Apr 7, 2023 19:28:43 GMT -5
Hearing Del confident in the young smith’s abilities without even having seen her work brings a grin to Astrid’s face. “Aye, they will! All the ones in Sky Peak are already kickin’ themselves fer turnin’ me away. I’m glad they did though. More learnin’ from it.”
She stumbles slightly as Del pulls her out of the main street, giving her a curious expression that quickly turns into a studious one. There’s that familiar fumbling she’s seen many times before – mostly from Cantio, but Cantio’s natural antsiness makes it easy to tell when someone is nervous. Del’s obvious blush doesn’t help the elf’s case at all either.
“Good friends, huh?” Astrid asks, one little blond eyebrow cocked above the other, her eyes smirking in a way that she tries to prevent on her lips. She continues with her expression unwavering, “Aye, I’ve met ‘im. Funny enough, we were playin’ truth or dare at a fancy ball a few months ago, then I brought a buncha orphans up ta his orphanage. How’re they doin’, by the way? Glad he’s got someone ta help him take care of all of ‘em.”
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Post by Delaela Fenastra-Asiliari on Apr 10, 2023 15:35:24 GMT -5
"Absolutely their loss. I'd love to see your work some time, once we get a chance." and once they weren't hunting down some potter who was being suspect as all get-out. One thing at a time.
Astri's knowing expression only worsens the rush of blood to her face. Del feels the temperature in her skin rise to the point where she's sure the tips of her ears are heating up like embers. "Mmhmm yes, good friends. Lots... lots in common. That's an interesting place to meet! And very sweet of you to bring the kids up, I wasn't aware of that," though Cyran probably wouldn't mention a precocious twelve year old who was full of sharp-eyed scrutiny if he didn't think Astrid and Del would ever cross paths. Even still, she can't help but smile when she thinks of the kids. "They're great, doing very well. Cyran is taking incredible care of them, he makes for a fine parent. He has a couple of... aides? Assistants? That help out as well, so he's able to take some time for himself. Which--."
--Realizing she's been going on and on, Del blanches and clears her throat. "--iiiis a conversation for later maybe, oh look, it seems were right here next to the kilns, what luck," she shuffles to the edge of the wall again to peer around the corner so they can get a good look at the direction of the kilns. Stealth probably wouldn't be the best of options... buuut.
Del looks back at Astrid. "I can slip in around and through the back to cut them off and be unseen if anyone tries to escape. Do you want to try and flush them out? I know they won't be expecting you. Or your friendly hound here." she gives Spicy Pawsage a little smile and a nod.
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Post by Lady Astrid Stormstone on Apr 19, 2023 16:33:02 GMT -5
The half-dwarf’s arms casually cross in front of her, and somehow the pre-pubescent kid looks to have a significant curve to her hips. Ah, because her stance is cocked at one angle while she just watches Del fumble an explanation. Oh, Del. If only Astrid were so easily fooled.
“Good friends with lots in common?” she echoes, a small smirk pulling at the corners of her mouth. The horns poking out from the top of her head seem especially fitting in this moment. But then Del continues about assistants or aides and then changes the subject.
Oh right, they met with a purpose. Oops. It’s just fun to see adults fumbling over their crushes. This isn’t over yet, Del. Just you wait. Once they have their guy in hand, it's all over. Astrid likes Cyran, and if Del like Cyran in the way that she thinks she likes Cyran... Well, there's no harm in a little nudge.
“Oh yeah, look at that, we ain’t far at all…”
Astrid looks toward the kilns then at Del. “Sure, I can go in an’ try ta see what they’re up ta. Maybe ya’ll find some clues in the back alley while yer there.”
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Post by Delaela Fenastra-Asiliari on Apr 23, 2023 16:16:18 GMT -5
Del wished she had the ability to evaporate into the air with how pointed and smug Astrid sounded-- dust and ash, this child was TWELVE. Why did she feel that she was being put on trial? --and what was it with the youth of the day giving her sly glances and cat-that-ate-the-canary smiles lately!
Which would make Astrid the second person Del had to conveniently find an excuse to slip away from for a few moments in as many weeks for a very similar reason. Circe was not a child, but she was Cyran's Goddaughter and Young Person, and so, she counted on her list. Who was next? Fish?
"Yep, sure aren't, isn't that nice." Wonderful even. She gives Astrid another nod and a smile, and reaches back over her shoulder to pull the hood back up and over her head. "I won't be far, and I'll keep an eye out for you. See you inside." She gives Astrid a little smile and steps back into the shadows-- blessed comfortable darkness-- and looks through the alley itself.
With her eyes adjusted to the dark[1], it didn't take Del especially long to find a few interesting things. A door in a wall that did not have an exterior knob; a fair amount of broken pottery, some matching what Astrid had found earlier. And... ah.
More blood. Drips and stains along the floor of the alley, and a pervasive, sickly-sweet scent of rot. It doesn't take long to find the carcass it seems to belong to, the goat's throat opened in a wide gash. It looked recent, and with no other carcasses around, Del figured this was probably for clean-up of some kind.
With that in mind, Del fixes a set to her jaw and continues through the shadows,[2] climbing up over the wall and onto the roof[3] to get a better look at the scene within the kilns below, and to keep eyes on Astrid. The short fellblood was not her child, but as an adult, Del felt it was her responsibility to keep her safe.
[1] Shadow Sight [2] One With the Shadows [3] Surface Scaling
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Post by Lady Astrid Stormstone on May 2, 2023 21:15:02 GMT -5
It’s so obvious that Del is trying to escape the situation. Astrid would have seen Kvasir doing the very same thing if the man hadn’t been so exhausted from the happenstances around them at the time. She half expects Del to disappear in a puff of smoke and shadow, but she’s not quite that dramatic. But she’s totally hiding in the shadows nonetheless.
Adults are so silly.
Especially in thinking they need to keep the fully armored child safe. Astrid’s a bonafide adventurer! She’s totally capable of taking care of herself – usually. There are a few things that don’t go quite so smoothly for her. (For instance, dealing with emotions she’s shoved down deep.)
Turning toward the kilns, Astrid takes a look around. How is she going to go about this? Maybe by just asking around innocently. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out the little broken piece of pottery, turning it between her fingers. Shop by shop, she stops inside.
“‘Scuse me, miss, I’m lookin’ fer the person who sold me da a cracked pot.” When she shows them the shard of shoddy pottery, she finally finds the right shop which she goes into.
The shopkeep, a young man wearing a red bandana around his neck and ill-fitting glasses with circular frames, looks up from his pottery wheel. “O-Oh, good morning!” he says, seeming quite flustered at the appearance of the rare customer. And a small one at that! Wow!
“Mornin’,” Astrid says casually, looking around the shop as she closes the door. Good, no one else is present.
“H-How can I help you? Are you looking for anything in particular?” he asks, standing up and wiping his hands on a damp towel.
“Aye, I’m lookin’ fer Rowlin’,” she replies.
“You’ve heard of me? W-Well, guilty as charged!” Rowling lets out a flustered chuckle, rubbing the back of his head. This could be good or bad, couldn't it?
“Ya sure are, ain’t ya?!” Astrid suddenly bursts, slapping the broken pottery. She’s got her guy, so tact leaves the building. “Who’d ya sell a buncha pots ta, huh?! Didja know they spilt a buncha blood all over the Ginma mosaic?!”
Rowling startles in a way that honestly reminds Astrid of Cantio. He takes a couple of steps back toward the back room. “W-What? That’s… That’s ludicrous. I wouldn’t do anything of the sort..!”
Rowling color dc4f4f
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Post by Delaela Fenastra-Asiliari on May 6, 2023 17:33:21 GMT -5
Del keeps a tail after Astrid from above, pulling shadows around her to keep herself hidden and slipping effortlessly along the roof tops that line the street. She has the evidence they need, but first they need to actually attach it to the person who was actually responsible.
And if it wasn't Rowling, well... there might be some additional explaining to do to the guard that was interested in what was going on in Zienav city, but for now, it was their best lead.
As Astrid picks a place to go inside, Del slips down and moves around the building to the back. Locked. She has no picks on hand, but she does have her tools. She carefully lifts the pins out of their hinges that keep the door in place and simply... removes the door. Then, she steps inside, into the store room.
From here, she can hear Astrid chatting with the man through the cloth covering. There are a series of pots here, some broken, most shoddy, but others... there is a trail of blood that leads around a corner and between shelves. A little staging area, by Del's estimate. Jackpot.
Hearing Astrid's angry voice suddenly, Del turns away from the evidence, snagging one of the already-broken and bloody pots, and goes towards the entrance to the storeroom. Waiting. Once she hears the voice of Rowling on the other side, nearer than he had been a few moments ago, Del takes that as her cue.
"Wouldn't you?"
A shadow shifts from the back room and out from the darkness emerges Del, stepping into the main area of the shop and blocking Rowling's exit with an icy glare affixed to her features. The man jumps back, startled, and scrambles away from the pair. "Then why is there blood in your back room, Rowling?" She tosses him the broken pot. It bounces off his chest as he fumbles, holding it loosely before he discards it to the floor. Del advances a step. "Give us names, Rowling."
"I, uh, I have-- no idea what you're talking about!" he gasps, stumbling back and away from the two, looking between them with wild furitive eyes. Realizing he's still holding the broken pot, he tosses it to the side. "That's just paint! Honest, I have nothing, nothing to do at all with--" His hand latches onto something on the table he bumped against, and he whips it towards Del, and makes a break towards the shorter, younger, and therefore not as dangerous Astrid-- not knowing what a mistake that was.
Del's hand flashes up, snagging the bloody carving knife out of the air before it can touch her, and whipping it back with a casual turn of her wrist towards the man as he runs]1]. The knife scrapes his arm, but does little else, as he is focused on trying to escape via Astrid.
[1] Deflection Enchantment
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Post by Lady Astrid Stormstone on May 6, 2023 20:26:54 GMT -5
Oh, that entrance was real cool, Astrid can’t help thinking when Del suddenly appears with a swath of shadows from the back of the shop. She’s even found more evidence that this guy is related to the vandalism. Perfect!
But Rowling doesn’t give in so easily. He puts up a fight – a pathetic fight, but still a fight nonetheless. The shop breaks into a moment of chaos for all of two seconds while the dainty potter rushes the child, hoping to get past her. Astrid simply steps in front of him, and he runs into her full force as if he just slammed into a brick wall. The child goes completely unmoved. With Rowling stumbling back on the floor, Astrid reaches down and grabs him by the shirt.
“Get rotated, idiot,” she scoffs. With a devious smirk and little effort, Astrid lifts Rowling into the air and turns him upside down, holding him aloft by his arms. Pottery tools tumble from his apron and pockets, and his attempts to flail do nothing to aid him. “So, ya weren’t involved in the vandalism, huh?” she asks again.
Completely outmatched and in over his head, Rowling breaks. “T-The Scorched Ones!” he cries, though in a hushed whisper. He offers few other answers to his involvement. For now.
Immovable Bastion Bull’s Strength
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Post by Delaela Fenastra-Asiliari on May 14, 2023 14:37:48 GMT -5
Del watched, surprised and more than a little impressed as Astrid handily dealt with the escape attempt by simply just... being completely ummovable. And then unceremoniously hauling him into the air, upsidedown, shaking the bits and baubles he happened to carry in his pockets. She has to cover her mouth to stifle a laugh-- the idiot had, indeed, been rotated. "Good work, Astrid."
Hearing the panicked whisper, the name of the group they were in pursuit of, Del lowers herself to a crouch in front of the man's upside down and dangling face. She pushes his forehead with her index finger, so he swings like a pendulum. "You've already picked the hard way, but I can assure you that we can make this even more unpleasant for you. Are you responsible for filling your pottery with blood too?"
Rowling bites his lip, uncertain as he swings gently, held aloft by Astrid's surprising grip, saying nothing.
Del exhales through her nose and gives the man a sardonic look, before leaning to the side to lift her gaze to Astrid. "I think he needs to be 'rotated' a few more times. Change his perspective."
"Wait! Waitwaitwaitwait," Rowling flails uselessly as he tries to avoid another rotation of his person. "I helped them fill the pots for cheap but I don't know anything else! I was just supposed to hold them so they could come and pick up the jugs but that was last night and I haven't heard from them since!"
Hmm. Perhaps they had made their point and the rest of Rowlings usefulness was done. She looks up at Astrid again, "What do you think? Is that sufficient?"
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Post by Lady Astrid Stormstone on Jun 6, 2023 17:14:53 GMT -5
With the idiot sufficiently shaken and stirred, Astrid looks at Del then down at Rowling cowering while hanging from his ankle – Well, he’s more balancing uncomfortably on his neck and shoulders while Astrid keeps his ankle aloft. The girl gives Rowling another shake.
“Are ya sure ya don’t know nothin’ else?” she asks. “No names or nothin’?”
“No! No, I swear!” he whimpers, unable to get a look at her. “Gods, you’re so strong.” It’s obvious Rowling didn’t expect to be accosted by a monster child and her ninja guardian. Suddenly, his foot is free, and the rest of his body collapses to the ground. He let’s out a little “Oof!” then glances between them. “A-Are you going to turn me into the guards?” he asks.
“Well, ya did help a buncha vandals, didn’t ya?” Astrid says, crossing her arms with an arched eyebrow.
“B-But they paid me!” he says, quickly sitting up.
Looking around the poorly kept shop full of subpar pottery, Astrid murmurs, “I could see why that’d be temptin’ fer ya in particular.”
“What’s that supposed to…”
“Hmmmm,” Astrid interrupts his musing, giving Rowling a once over. He’s pretty harmless. “Ya can do two thin’s ta make up fer it, an’ I might not tell no one. First! Yer gonna be a ‘good samaritan’ an’ go clean up the mess the vandals made. Second, yer gonna take some pride in yer work an’ make better pots. Bet they barely paid ya what the pots were worth, huh?”
“They– ….They didn’t.” Rowling hangs his head in shame. In a desperate attempt to make coin, he accepted some customers that he probably shouldn't have. Still, he honestly can’t believe they’re not dragging him by his ankles back to the guards.
“Aye, figures. Anyway,” Astrid turns to look at Del. “If that suits ya, it suits me. An’ if he tries any funny business, we drag him by his toes ta the guard!”
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