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| The Eye of the Storm | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jan 24 2010, 12:10 PM (123 Views) | |
| Elijah | Jan 24 2010, 12:10 PM Post #1 |
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* * * Where the silent voices whisper, find a course that is your own And however great the obstacle, you will never be alone For I have watched the path of angels, and I have heard the heavens roar There is strife within the tempest But there is calm in the Eye of the Storm. * * * ![]() The Manor. Somewhere in England. =/= As the scene opens we are in Elijah and Omega's base. The room is large, rectangular, a lengthy sofa in its centre, a glass table in front of it. One wall is home to an enormous mural, showing members of the Insurgency side by side in the ruins of a great city. Wrecked buildings stand on either side, lightning tearing apart the night sky. Elijah wears a long black coat, his eyes looking away from the viewer, taking in his surroundings. Omega stands in front of him, his arms around her, wearing a red top covered in indecipherable writing. Angel carries a knife, as if looking out for predators, while Cain looms over them all, imposing, protecting. A second wall is awash with colour, swirls and stripes, chaos erupting in neon pinks, yellows and greens, strands of black appearing amidst the brightness. A third wall is covered with an enormous bookshelf, texts sacred and mundane, Crowley and Hawking, Leary and Carroll. The final wall is plain black, covered in red diamonds, words painted on it in white: "SIC TRANSIT GLORIA MUNDI" As the camera moves around the room, we can hear music, someone singing softly. =/= You are my sunshine, my only sunshine =/= As the camera moves forward, we can see Omega sitting on the sofa. She is still, staring downwards. We see her only from behind, the back of her head facing the camera. Her shoulders appear to be quivering. =/= You make me happy when skies are grey =/= As we move closer, we can make out that it is she who is singing. We come closer, make out the shape of Elijah, laying on the sofa, his head in her lap, face down. Her hands are running through his hair, trembling slightly. =/= You'll never know dear, how much I love you =/= We finally make our way around, seeing her face for the first time, her head bent downwards, gazing at Elijah. His head is on her lap, his eyes closed, perhaps asleep, perhaps unwilling to wake. Tears fall from her eyes, splashing onto him, her fingers stroking through his hair distractedly, her voice barely a whisper. =/= Please don't take my sunshine away =/= Omega runs her fingertips across Elijah's neck. His eyes flutter open, his expression empty, blank. She runs her fingertips down his chest, slowly, gently. =/= Omega: Morning sleepyhead. =/= He looks at her questioningly. =/= Omega: Two hours. You want two more? =/= Elijah shakes his head. He pulls himself upright, his eyes half-closed, teeth gritted. Near his collar, we can see the top of his back, the ends of the bloody scars tracing along his skin, the legacy of Massacre and The Cyndicate's attack. Omega slips her hand into his. =/= Omega: We have to watch it. =/= Elijah nods. =/= Omega: Are you ready? =/= Elijah nods again, hesitantly this time, unsure. Omega reaches beside the sofa and picks up a small DVD player, spinning a DVD on the tip of her finger. She places the DVD in the player, waits for it to load, and hits play. Omega rests back on the sofa. Elijah slips an arm around her and pulls her closer, and she rests on his chest, his hand clasped in hers. The DVD player springs into life.=/= =/= We are inside the ruins of what was once a home, the ceiling caved in, rubble littering the floor. The walls are covered in graffiti, crumbling away, incomprehensible. Chaolin Sahn stands amidst the ruination, a sadistic smile on his face. =/= Chaolin Sahn: I wish you naught but greetings on this day, my dear friend. You and I shall open scars no physician could mend. I own you Elijah, own your body and your soul. And now I own the only thing that truly made you whole. Forget about your harlot, come and step into my maze. Tonight I bring you echoes from forgotten better days. =/= A woman enters the scene, her head bowed, her eyes fixed to the floor. She wears a black Cyndicate robe, floor-length, embroidered with obscure symbols. She kneels in front of Sahn, facing the viewer, the hood obscuring her features. Chaolin Sahn smiles a little as he traces his fingertips along her shoulder and then, in one swift motion, pulls back the hood to reveal - =/= Dolores: Hello, Elijah. Long time no see. =/= Her features are a blend of Japanese and Spanish. Her eyes are dark, nearly black, glowing with a strange sort of muted intensity, as a candle seen through frosted glass. The Cyndicate robe covers her from head to toe. She stares into the viewer, unblinking, probing. =/= Dolores: By the time you see this you will have already experienced a moment, just a fragmentary glimpse of the pain your put me through. Believe me, Elijah, there is a lot more coming your way. I - we - will make very sure of that. And if you think that whore can save you, you are a bigger fool than I thought. I see you finally got your Scarlet Woman, at least. Tell me, Elijah, how much does she know you - the real you, the boy you used to be all those years ago? Does she know about the anger, the violence, the hours of screaming, the months of solitude, cut off from the world? Does she know your secrets, the things we would admit to each other in the depths of the night, too scared to them to ourselves? Does she know about the night you were on the edge of Ouse Bridge, ready to jump? Does she know who stopped you? I saved your life, Elijah. But when it came down to it you were too much of a coward to save mine. =/= Her expression remains still, steady, her voice calm. She betrays no emotion in spite of the anger in her words, remaining stoic, unblinking. =/= Dolores: I hate you, Elijah. It took me a long time to realise it but I do. I hate you and I have hated you since the day you abandoned me. You got me in trouble back then, Elijah, you got me disciplined and punished and treated like the lowest of the low. But even then you wouldn't shut your mouth - until one day I was told I had to leave. It was either stay with the Institute, move away and keep my one shot at eternal happiness, or stay with you, give up everything to be with someone who didn't care about the pain he caused, the suffering he brought. I may have made the wrong choice but it was a choice you forced me to make. You are a selfish, uncaring, unfeeling, heartless, emotionless son of a bitch. This is your fault. All of it. They did things to me, Elijah. Horrible things. To my body and to my mind. And when I fought back they did it again. And again. Humiliation. Rape. Scorn. I was less than a prisoner, less than a slave. They controlled me, where I could go, what I could do, where I would live. And they abused me in ways you cannot begin to comprehend. Not that you would even try. How do you sleep at night? =/= Dolores pauses. Sahn slips a hand onto the back of her head. She closes her eyes a moment, a brief smile crossing her face before they open. =/= Dolores: Over a decade I was in there, over a decade of humiliation and drudgery and total control. Over a decade locked in a prison you created for me, a prison of the mind with bars I could not see, let alone break. I want you to think about that, if there is any conscience left in that pathetic mind of yours. Think about it, and think about the pain you caused me. Because next Tuesday, karma is going to finally catch up with you. Until then. =/= She winks at the camera. =/= Dolores: Be seeing you. * * * ![]() Evil Eye Cafe. York, England. =/= We are in a busy street in York, England. Men and women rush from one place to the next, dragging children behind them. A gold-painted street performer poses with tourists, motionless, his face an expression of mock-horror. Pubs lins the street, sounds of drunken merriment echoing from within. It is raining, water splashing off the pavements and disappearing into the gutter. And outside one store front, a familiar face checks her mobile phone. =/= Angelica: Dammit miss O, where the - ???: Boo! =/= Angelica turns, startled. Omega stands behind her, wearing a Cruxshadows t-shirt and black jeans. =/= Omega: Jellybaby! Angelica: Little Miss O! Omega: How's my favouritest you in the history of ever? Angelica: All good. Except my fuckwit sister and...bah, it's complicated. But all's groovy. How are you? Omega: Can we get beers and such? =/= Angelica nods and the two of them step into a building identified as the Evil Eye Cafe. They order drinks, an Efes for Omega and a Guinness for Angelica, and take their seats on the patio. A greenhouse-style roof protects them from the elements, the sound of raindrops drumming on the glass above somehow peaceful now, reassuring. =/= Omega: Is Miss Jellybaby all ready and excited for Genesisis? Angelica: It's not going to be easy, I'll give them that - Scorpio and Anubis are both pretty good. Omega: But Jellybaby and Mister Christopher are better than pretty good - you're like a double whammy of awesomeness and winnitude. Go you! Angelica: How's Elijah doing? He looked - Omega: He's fine. Will be fine. We're going away soon...taking a trip to try and prepare for Genesis. Like a vaccuum cleaner for the brain getting all the icky bits out. All we need is some mental Shake 'n' Vac and we're all set. =/= Omega twirls her hair distractedly. As she sips her beer, the fingers on the other hand drum out a rhythm on the tabletop. One-two-three-four, one-two-three-four. =/= Angelica: Are you okay? Omega: I've had better weeks, Miss Jellybaby. But it's like mummy always said, there's no use crying over spilt water off a duck's back. Caca's going to get his, and that...woman, too. In the face! Angelica: Totally. I just want the two of you to be careful is all. Omega: We're always careful. And always prepared. Like Cub Scouts but with even more beer and casual violence. Can we talk about happier things? Angelica: Of course. What do you think our next book should be? Omega: I had an idea, we could go to Egypt, visit the land of the Pharoahs and Akhenaten and Ra and stuff. We might even meet Daniel Jackson! We could call it Girls Gone Niled. Angelica: That reminds me, I wanted to do a a guide to working in a nursing home. Girls Gone Mild. Omega: Or an art book detailing obscure and fanciful works based on the Spirograph. Swirls Gone Wild. ???: Or you could set up a sex line and record all the calls then release copies of them. Girls Gone Dialled. =/= Omega and Angelica turn suddenly. The barman stands nearby, smirking to himself. They glance at him, then at one another, and relocate to another table further from the bar. =/= Omega: Either that or I was thinking, From Iron Age to Centre Stage: The Alex Cain Diaries, 1000BC - present. Angelica: That would be a very very long book. Omega: We could summarise. "1848. Tried to go to Europe. Mad shit kicking off. Dying for a decent beer. Wish someone would invent the internet so I could set up a blog and rant about all this." Angelica: It's got bestseller written all over it. Omega: Yey! =/= Omega does a little happy dance on her chair. She picks up her bottle. As she does so, a look of abject horror crosses her face. =/= Angelica: What is it!? Omega: My beer ranned away! Angelica: I think you drank it. Omega: LIES! Angelica: Well you had it, then you drank some, now it's not there any more... Omega: You make a convincing argument. You're like Jessica Fletcher but even more awesomeful and stuff. I'll be back in a moment Miss Jellybaby! =/= Angelica nods. Omega downs the remainder of her beer and hops over to the bar, asking for two more. Angelica watches her leave, amusement mixed with concern for her friend. As the scene fades out we can hear the barman utter the words "Girls Gone Tiled?," followed by the sound of faces hitting palms. =/= * * * St. Pancras Station. London, England. =/= We are in the centre of a busy station. Businessmen talk loudly into their mobile phones, families lurch along with luggage trailing behind, voices ring out announcing arrivals and departures, warnings and reminders. Stars are visible against the evening sky, the sound of rain mixing into the commotion of the station. Amidst the chaos , two figures sit, cold metal for chairs, staring out of the window. Omega's head rests on Elijah's chest, his arm around her, eyes closed. Omega sucks her thumb gently. =/= Omega: Daddio? =/= Elijah looks down at her, his eyes staring deeply into hers. She pulls herself upright and hops into his lap, wrapping her arm around his neck. He smiles softly. =/= Omega: I love going on holidays. They're one of my favouritest things to go on except game shows and rocket ships and waterslides. I bringed my camera so we can take pictures for me and Jellybaby's next book, Girls Gone Styled. We're going to dress up in fancy clothes and go to funny places and be all "yey we're in awesome place X!" and stuff. I likes Jellybaby. And Mister Christopher too. And Highlander and Caledonia. They're like a pick and mix of awesometude. =/= Elijah smiles, a little more broadly this time, and kisses her softly on the forehead. =/= Omega: I'm gonna go get some things to om and nom and nom, okay daddio? =/= Elijah nods. Omega hops to her feet and kisses him softly before skipping across the station in search of nibbles. Elijah takes out a small pad and a pencil and begins to draw as Omega makes her way through the station, alighting on a small sandwich shop. Elijah remains seated, sketching out a picture on his pad. As it begins to take form, we are in the middle of a wasteland, desolate buildings off in the background, scattered belongings littering the landscape. Spots of fire burn here and there, unmanaged, unstifled, plumes of smoke reaching up to the heavens. A single dragonfly floats across the centre of the picture, looming close to the viewer, beckoning them in. In the centre of the picture the image of a person begins to take shape. The head is bowed, eyes covered with a thick black blindfold. A rope is wrapped around the figure, arms pinned to the sides, immobile. The wrists are tied behind the back, pressed close to one another. As the picture continues to form, swords begin to appear, eight in total, forming a cage around the figure, a prison of sorts. The last part of the picture to form is the face. At a glance, it could be seen as Dolores, looking closer, perhaps Elijah. Perhaps Omega. Perhaps all of them at once. Perhaps no-one. As Elijah finishes the picture we leave him, wandering through the station, alighting on a sandwich shop. It is full, travellers stocking up for their journey, stacks of junk food piling up, the odd apple or orange a token gesture to nutrition. Omega is at the counter. =/= Omega: What's in the Hot Sexy Veggie? Assistant: That's lettuce, tomato, sweetcorn, jalapeno peppers, with chili sauce Omega: Om nom nom nom nom! Can I have two of those please Mister Sandwich Person? With extra jalapenos? Assistant: You can indeed. Omega: And without the lettuce, tomato and sweetcorn? And with extra chili sauce? Assistant: Um... Omega: Please Mister Assistant Man? Assistant: If you're sure... =/= Omega nods manically. As the assistant shrugs and turns away to start work on the "sandwiches," Omega takes a seat by the window. She begins to hum to herself distractedly before noticing a group of teenagers sitting at the next table along. They look at her curiously but turn away when she begins to notice. Eventually one of them, pushed along by the others, makes her way over to Omega. =/= Girl: Excuse me, I, um... Omega: Howdy doodly doo! Girl: Um, yeah...are you Omega? Like, Little Miss O, CWF, Insurgency...you look just like - Omega: I'm actually a mechanoid brought in to replace her. The real Omega is living in witness protection following an incident involving a laptop, a hairdryer and a lifetime's supply of peanuts. But Robomega is here to answer any questions you might have. Girl: Um... Omega: Yes? Girl: I mean, we saw Massacre last week - my friends and I, we're big fans - and we saw all that stuff happening with you and Elijah and, I mean...you hear all the rumours, how much it's sport, how much it's performance, but he really looked to be in a bad way.... Omega: My daddio's like Superman but with better hair and a bigger vocabulary. Nobody can really hold him down but sometimes people try and sometimes they get really far but he always comes back in the end and is all like pow pow pow and stuffs. Sahn and his little band of cunts managed to hurt us but they're not going to defeat us in the end. They're vicious little trolls but no matter. We've had bigger than them and came out on top. We always do. We're like thrush, you might think you got rid of us but we come back when you least expect it. Girl: Is he - Omega: He'll be fine. Really. Believe me. Girl: That's good to hear. =/= The assistant calls out Omega's order. She hops to her feet and impulsively hugs the girl before making her way up to the bar, collecting a pair of what could technically be described as sandwiches. She waves at the group of teenagers and makes her way back through the station, arriving back with Elijah. As she arrives he puts the pad to one side and glances up at her. =/= Omega: I got us foods! And I made a new friend! You wants sandwiches daddio? =/= Elijah shakes his head a little. Omega takes a seat, slips an arm around his neck and pulls him toward her, his head resting on her breast. Her fingertips trace down his arm gently, avoiding the areas left scarred by the Cyndicate. His eyes flutter half-closed, blocking out the world. =/= Omega: You need to eat something. Tuesday's not far away. You need your energy. =/= Elijah nods a little. Omega breaks open one of the sandwiches and tears off a piece of bread, slipping it into Elijah's mouth. He swallows it and smiles softly as we fade out to black. =/= * * * ![]() Sedlec Ossuary. Sedlec, Kutna Hora, Czech Republic. It was a long journey but we got there in the end. My beloved and I left England, travelled by train, by bus, hours spent cramped and sore, but finally we arrived. Kutna Hora, Czech Republic. Home of the Sedlec Ossuary. I came here first years ago, when I first lost her - fucking dammit I can't even write her name - I went wandering, when I knew she wasn't coming back. When I got the letter. I guess I was looking for her, in a way, but it was more than that. I thought by disappearing into the masses, turning life into constant forward motion, that I could somehow escape everything. Somehow I could disappear into a world of bus stations and cheap hostels and I wouldn't have to feel the way I felt. By removing myself from people I wouldn't have to care any more. By running away from others I could run away from myself. So I wandered from one place to the next, never resting for more than a few days at a time, living on whatever I could afford or steal, or have given by some kindly stranger. Somehow I ended up here. The ossuary. The church has been around since the 13th century and became popular as a burial site. Eventually they had to move bones from the graveyard to free up space. Then in the eighteen seventies, a man was contracted to deal with the bones. And deal with them he did. Chandeliers topped with human skulls. A cross made of thigh and arm bones. Crowns, sculpted from a thousand tiny bone fragments. Men, women and children, their remains turned into ornaments in the house of God. Some call it horrifying, even blasphemous. Others call it pious, an act of faith and artistic creation. It may be all of these, simply viewed from differing perspectives. When I was lost I came here. I was confused, disoriented, had trekked from city to city looking for some kind of escape. Pleasures of the flesh, soarings of the spirit but all of them empty, meaningless. And no-one to share them with. The ossuary was different. Being surrounded by death in such a holy place, seeing the empty, hollow remains of what had once been men and women, I felt a sense of peace, a sense of calm I had not felt in a long time. Perhaps ever. It was as though a fire had raged within me and been put out, a hole eating into me which had been filled and repaired. Every skull had once housed a brain, a living, breathing human being with desires and emotions and friends and enemies, the shell of their existence now decorating a place of worship. We all pass away, and in time, are forgotten, our troubles with us. Memento mori. So many years, yet the chapel remains the same. My beloved and I arrived in the morning, having travelled through the night, the nations of Europe melting into a blend of trains and buses, stations and stopovers. We found a place to stay and my love - I love Omega with all my heart with all my soul with all my mind with all my strength I owe her the world I owe her my life - went into the town to get food. And I came here. This time I am not a wanderer in search of peace, of the release which marked my first encounter here. Rather, it is withdrawal. I have a love for those I know, enemies and allies alike, yet that love is accompanied by a need for solitude. A need for loneliness, to think, to reflect. To grieve for what should have been. The sadness ebbs away, and as it flows into nothingness, anger grows in its place. Fury at Sahn, at the Cyndicate, at - I can say it I can hate her say it say it - Dolores. At myself for tempting fate to bring her back in my life. Anger at the Institute, at Robbins, at friends, allies. Anger at the world. My beloved keeps me grounded, tethered to this world. Yet sometimes she is the only thing that does. And sometimes she is the only person on the face of this earth with whom I can live. Whom I could not live without. I take a pew, the chapel empty but for myself, skulls staring eyelessly down at me as I sit alone with my thoughts. So many years, so much has changed; I sit here older, more battered, more scarred, yet beneath it all still the same frightened teenager who came here lost and confused all those years ago. I take up a bible and read. A stern-faced king, a master of intrigue, will arise. He will become very strong, but not by his own power. He will cause astounding devastation and will succeed in whatever he does. He will destroy the mighty men and the holy people. He will cause deceit to prosper, and he will consider himself superior. When they feel secure, he will destroy many and take his stand against the Prince of princes. Yet he will be destroyed. Sahn. We have been in one another's orbit since the day I first entered the federation, what seems like a lifetime ago. On that night, I found myself victorious and suddenly was at odds with Chris Xtreme, the first man to be fooled by Chaolin, later thrown aside when no longer useful to the - fucking cunt bastard that's what he is - fool at the heart of the Cyndicate. And so it grew, through End Games, through the birth of the Insurgency and growth of the Cyndicate, each group's desire to destroy the other and the Enterprise. Not always at the centre of my troubles, not always my focus, yet he was always there, always lurking. Unfinished business. And now he is Commissioner. Even the position of champion was not enough to sate his desires, his lust for power, for influence and domination. The everyman is constrained by conscience, the businessman by profit, the holy man by god. Sahn faces none of these constraints; he would happily destroy the federation and move on to another victim, a locust destroying all he sees. The fool Rish is not to be trusted, nor supported. A world dominated, exploited and overrun by his whims holds little appeal. It is not necessary to ally with one enemy to confront another; we fight not for Rish, but against the Cyndicate. We fight our own battles. Sahn. It is difficult. I know him only as a symbol - the tortured soul, the tyrant, the opportunist, the champion. The Commissioner. I know little of him simply as a man, who wakes and sleeps, eats and drinks, a man who has fears and loves and desires and regrets, a man like any other. Beneath it all he is merely a man. And like all men, he feels pain. Soon, Chaolin. So very soon. He prides himself on ambition, on his quest to dominate and control, to take over all he sees before him. He has not succeeded - the Insurgency and its allies have stopped the Cyndicate at each step of the way. Yet the damage they do in their quest for dominance is troubling, the brutality they unleash something which can be overcome but only at great cost. A cost which must be paid until they are done with. A few short days. Hundred of miles from here, another country, another continent. A ring surrounded by barbed wire. A moment for us, not to settle our differences, but to indulge them, unleashing our rage at one another in a flurry of mutual destruction. One will stand victorious, yet both will walk away bloodied and satisfied in equal measure. So soon. So very soon. I stare at the wall, at the ornaments, at the creativity expressed here, life out of death. Art and worship given birth from the remains of thousands long since gone to dust. Their names forgotten, their memories discarded. This, too, shall pass. I feel something leave me, the anger, the confusion, the upset, the pain. In their place is calmness. Calm and untainted determination. As if on cue, my beloved enters the church, bag in hand. She approaches softly but I rise, scoop her into the air, return her to the ground with a smile. There is a warmth in her beautiful, deep red eyes which I cannot escape, a single lock of crimson hair spilling over her cheek, her pale skin soft against my touch. I kiss her once, softly, and we walk into the sunshine hand in hand. Reborn. * * * ![]() Ferry. Rotterdam-Hull. =/= We are on the deck of a ferry. Inside, passengers share meals, drink at the bar, make plans for their return. Out on the deck, we can see the seemingly endless waters, rippling under the night sky, the moon reflected in the waves. Seagulls can be heard faintly in the distance. Elijah and Omega stand on the deck, staring out over the sea, his arm around her. His expression remains muted but life is returning. Somewhere in the distance, a storm begins to form, lightning tearing apart the night sky, rain pouring down. Elijah kisses Omega on the forehead softly, watching as the lightning reflects off the waters. =/= Omega: We'll be okay, won't we daddio? =/= Elijah smiles and nods, pulling her a little closer. She smiles and buries her head in his chest. The ferry turns, and gradually the harbour comes into view, shadowy figures moving back and forth, transporting goods, preparing for departure, dealing with arrivals. Suddenly the deck is filled with movement as passengers and crew swarm upwards. The masses surge forward around them but Elijah and Omega remain still, staring into one another's eyes, oblivious to the commotion going on around them. Rain falls heavily, splashing off their bodies, the wooden surface of the ferry, drenching all around. As the path clears they move, making their way across the ferry, down the steps and out into the harbour. A member of the crew approaches, handing them their bags, travelling light. As they turn to leave, the crew member stops them. =/= Crew member: Look, I didn't want to stop you before, looked like you were in the middle of something, but...you're Elijah, right? And Omega? CWF? Omega: Rightaroonie! Crew member: I just wanted to say, good luck with the match Tuesday. Me and the boys, we watch a lot of wrestling and we're all rooting for you. Omega: Awesometastic, Mister Sailor Man! If we could we'd be cheering for you as well. Elijah: Indeed. =/= The voice is hoarse, somewhat strained, as if from disuse. The crew member's eyes dart to those of Elijah. Omega bursts into a beaming smile, empty of mania and comedy, a simple, pure joy. Elijah reaches out and he and the crew member shake hands, strongly, firmly. =/= Elijah: Be seeing you. =/= He and the crew member nod in mutual recognition. Elijah and Omega take up their bags and make their way across the harbour, disappearing into the night, torrents of rain falling upon them from on high. =/= (OOC notes: lyrics at the start of this post taken from Eye of the Storm by the Cruxshadows. The second lot are from You Are My Sunshine. The bible excerpt is taken from Daniel 8:23-25. And thanks to the Twitterati for the book titles in part two. Also: Chaolin Sahn and I agreed to do one post each for Genesis, hence the greater than usual length of this RP.) |
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So you must carry this light into the darkness You shall be a star unto the night You will find hope alive among the hopeless That is your purpose to this life... | |
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