[ The sound of Chariot's cane followed behind her, close, remaining so as Fang let the water warm. She sat herself down on the edge of the tub, in a small fold-out chair that Mio had installed for her so that she could clean up more easily while recovering... ]
It's not being considerate, it's... it's what home should be like, shouldn't it?
[Fang doesn't respond immediately, but there's a bright spark of warmth in the Bond, almost like the concept surprised her. As Fang craned her head for the mirror, she was smiling as if she wasn't idly tracing the path of one of the angry remains of clawmarks. Gods, she'd gotten lucky. A fraction over, and she would've lost the eye.]
Yeah... Yeah, it should. Guess I still forget, every now and then. It's... been a long time, you know? [Her voiced quieted a little sheepishly—but fondly—at the end. Home. Something that, before getting abducted into a mirror, Fang had resigned herself to never knowing again.]
[Fang doesn't spend long glancing at the freshly-healed wounds. She set the half-full cup aside, peeling off her sodden clothes with a shiver.]
[ Chariot doesn't have access to the magic she wants to, that would make all of this easier, but she manages to not let herself be distracted by Fang's sudden nakedness. Her emotions were still running quite a bit raw... she wanted to focus.
Warm, wet compress. A healing salve she'd worked up ages ago. Gently applied where she could, cleaning as she went along. Slow, meditative... ]
[After being out in the storm, the warmth of the bath is a godsend. The heat stings her silver burns something awful, twisted and raw around her wrists and neck, but Fang had finally been cleared to keep them uncovered; she wasn't about to wrap them back up. The salve does wonders to sooth the sensitive scars, though.]
[Fang leaned immediately into the pressure, and it wasn't long before her shoulders and head slumped forward without tension. Eyes closed, just breathing, just... being. Letting herself be cared for, letting herself be vulnerable. As Chariot cleaned her fur and soothed the lingering aches, Fang mindlessly began growling that pseudo-purr of hers on each exhalation.]
[There was a lot she had to think about, and something she wanted to ask her Bonded. But just for a few minutes... they could leave the tangled complicated mess of the evening to the side and let this soothing moment be their whole world.]
[ When Fang started to visibly relax, so did Chariot. Her worries were still there, the constant background noise of their lives as always, but she could focus on her work, of tending, of giving service out of love for the other woman. Easing her burdens, soothing her wounds.
After a few moments, she leaned forward to press her forehead against Fang's, letting out a small sigh. ]
[Fang's arms sluggishly rose from the water to loosely circle Chariot's waist, leaning so slightly more into her weight. She needed this, this warmth—after today, and this last month in general.]
Am I too kind, or is it you feel you don't deserve this kindness?
[ On the nose, but... not that it was clear Chariot was willing to forgive what happened, there was still things they needed to put into the air between them, to make their way through, to deal with in some way.
One incident, and Chariot forgiving her, Fang saying she'd remembered, wasn't going to magically lift Fang's guilt away. ]
[It was no magical cure, but one incident, one hard push, and a second choice was enough to create a spark—enough to make embers flicker again in her drowning heart. This was necessary conversation, but it does put a slight damper on basking in the warmth. Fang at least takes a moment to consider the question.]
Both, but that's nothin' new, [She murmurs back honestly; Chariot would've known if she wasn't being truthful. The question reminds her a little of prior conversations with a certain merrow. Deserve was such a tricky word, and had roots so much deeper than this incident.] After smashin' a chunk outta a small planet, guess I don't deserve much.
But that's not the point, is it? Life never gives anyone what they deserve. Only matters what you have.
[There's a bit of cynicism, buried in that. It's a bitter truth Fang's come to harbor over the course of her long life.]
Sounds great to me, [Fang grumbled tiredly. She's always quick to discount the past—perhaps too quick, as it's been pointed out to her. But to hear such a suggestion coming from Chariot, of all people... brought an odd measure of peace. The things that Fang would sacrifice, just to put the same idea in Vanille's head...]
[The turnskin reluctantly let go to give Chariot more room to move, but not before pressing a gentle kiss to her neck. Fang brushed her bangs back out of her face and reclined in the bath, casually—if shamelessly—watching the Witch undress.]
...Look, home or not... Thanks. For bein' here. Means a lot to me.
[ At first her actions had just been casual, if not a little hurried, no thought put into observation or presentation at all, just a desire to be with Fang as close as possible and yet... When she realized Fang's eyes were upon her, she slowed, catching her eyes, and slowing her hands down, making certain to draw out the motions.
A part of her that had grown, the part of her that adored Fang's attention... All talks aside, all heavy conversations aside, that sort of thing... that sort of thing had its place, too. ]
[No stammering, no flustering—Fang hadn't been expecting her motions to slow. Green eyes flicked up to meet red, a delighted amusement meeting that intensity.]
[Fang cocked her head to the side, her mouth crooking up at the corner.]
Tease.
[But warmth and affection filled that complaint—if it could be called a complaint. Fang loved teasing, and being teased.]
[ Fang, and Ramesses, had done a great deal of work to put Chariot at ease with her own sensuality. They both gave her fertile soil to blossom within, even if she'd be considered 'late' doing so by most standards. That was fine. Fang's appreciation spoke volumes, after all.
She let out a soft little huff, not speeding up, but shifting her position to push her chest through the already open part of the blouse. No bra beneath... not for sexy reasons, she just hadn't been wearing one while homebound for the most part. It only came on if she was heading out. Which Fang had saved her the trouble of... ]
[Her Bonded's come a long way towards being comfortable in her own skin—something Fang's glad for. Fang allowed her eyes to sweep down in an appreciative glance, letting her attention wash over Chariot in that way she's grown to love.]
[One of Fang's hands lazily rose up, fingers ghosting Chariot's hip, leaving little water trails across the fabric.]
You know, if I were feelin' a little more spirited, I'd just pull you in as you are.
[The tea, the tender touch, the heat of the bath, it was all a wonderful distraction from the ache in her bones and her face, but Fang still wasn't free of this long day's fatigue.]
[ And I'd probably lose my nerve and scold you for getting my clothes wet. Probably... not likely, at this point. She shrugged the blouse away, using her cane to stand back up, away from those hands, and let loose the waist ties of the simple house pants she was wearing, allowing them to simply fall away, but by bit, a thumb hooking into the hem of the panties beneath.
Nothing she was wearing was, well. MEANT to be sexy. It was all very simple and plain. House clothes for someone who couldn't go out much. But Fang's words, the way her eyes fixated on her, made her feel like she was a super model.
The show was over after a few more moments, though, and she set her cane aside, having faith she could crawl into the tub on top of Fang easily enough. ]
[The clothes never needed to be sexy. Fang's focus was always on Chariot herself. What she was wearing... never felt important.]
[Her crooked smirk spread into a satisfied smile as she watched. The transition was easy, at least, offering steady and supporting hands where needed. The tub was a little bit of a cramped fit for the two of them, water spilling out, since Fang was on the taller side and Chariot not much shorter.]
[Fang sighed happily, her hands immediately starting a slow glide over her Bonded's back. ]
If you're not gonna say anything, you should at least do the decent thing and shut me up.
[ In truth, she'd clammed up mostly because her nerves were a little bit strung up. Not the sort of barbed worry that Fang would fear otherwise that came with Chariot's anxiety, but just... the lack of trust in herself to not say something silly or foolish. It wasn't like she was trying to play coy! But...
Well. Fang had a good idea, either way. Settling in, straddling her bonded, she leaned in to do just that, shutting up Fang with a press of her lips to hers, humming into the embrace, letting herself soak in the moment, the warmth of her lover, and all of those wonderful feelings that prickled between them...
[She couldn't ask for more, in this moment. The slow movement of lips and the feel of Chariot's skin, the warm love in the Bond... Fang loved this clumsy woman and her endless patience. She hummed back into the kiss, lazily nipping at her bottom lip, one finger idly tracing the line of Chariot's spine.]
[ It was tremendous... just how much this warmth, this closeness had come to mean to her. Being in Fang's embrace, feeling her lips, the strength within her, the soul that reflected so much of her own 'shine' back that she couldn't help but recognize it.
She could argue with her worst self back and forth all day about whether or not she deserved any of this, whether or not this love could be hers, something built by them both even if the seed had been based in projected familiarity... But when she was actually with Fang, the argument felt so muted and distant... ]
I love you... [ She whispered between those lazy kisses, settling in against Fang's shoulder eventually. It'd probably be a bad idea to fall asleep in the tub, huh? ]
[Fang could believe it, sometimes, this level of bliss, but the Bond left no room for doubt. Their link left absolutely no room for doubt that this was nothing but love, no doubt for the raw sincerity of it. Like this, Fang could forget every ache in her body and soul alike.]
[An arm cradled Chariot as she folded against her shoulder, and Fang's forehead dropped softly against the Witch's crown in an fond bunt, echoing her words silently in their connected souls.]
[And made the mistake of caressing her other hand down Chariot's side, relishing in the feel of her skin until Fang's hand faltered at her knee. She tried to smooth that stutter out quickly tracing circles with her hand, but that same Bond that let them communicate so purely wouldn't allow her to hide the sudden burr in her heart.]
[ Right. That made... sense. Too much sense. The reflective nature of the Bond had its downsides, and that reaction fed back into itself, and Chariot felt in her chest the very same pain Fang did, at any reminder of what had happened. The scar there... it was never going away. They'd have to learn to cope with its existence... ]
It's okay...
[ She wasn't certain what, exactly, she was saying that for. To validate Fang's feelings? Her own? Did it ultimately matter? ]
[She sucked in a deep breath, Chariot's reassurance washing over her. She exhaled. Breathed again, just sort of holding that burr there as its spines reached out to sting both of them.]
[That scar was never going away. It stood as a permanent testament to what they endured, same as the warped flesh ringing Fang's wrists and neck. Kaede's anger stood out in her mind again as her freshly healed wounds throbbed and that guilt began to well again.]
[Another breath. The warmth of the water, the warmth of Chariot stood out, too, accepting and patient and loving. Hesitantly, Fang's hand slid lower to her marred leg to settle on its contours.]
[Fang had to learn to live with this. She couldn't go on drowning in it or hiding from it. Something in the bitter events of this evening had reignited the embers in her heart, but they were still weak. Fragile, like the broken glass her soul was made of. They couldn't yet fight off the torrent of guilt.]
[But maybe Chariot's warmth was enough to shelter it. One more breath, while Fang's fingers gingerly traced her lover's injury under the water. She turned her face into Chariot's hair, murmuring while her other arm curled her Bonded tighter to her.]
Give me a minute? Please.
[Fang had to do this. She couldn't keep living at this demon's mercy.]
[ She wish she could say she felt more than the apprehension and tethers of the bond that held their mutual trauma together. And what she felt was profound. But the more Fang's fingertips brushed over the re-patched flesh... she realized just how little she could physically feel of it.
It was so strange, as if she were in a stranger's body, feeling the impact of something far away, and faint, and yet she knew, she knew, it was Fang's hands. Her heart was there, in those fingertips, baring itself naked against that trauma, chained to that wound and trying to turn the iron links into flowered wreathes... ]
Take your time...
[ She wanted to feel it. She could feel her everywhere else. She could feel her love and warmth everywhere else but the nerves along her scar were just... gone. She'd never get to know that touch again. She never realized she had to mourn it until that very moment.
[Fang released that burr. Her welling guilt gorged itself on Chariot's grief—what brought that on?—as it began flowing through Fang. Her hand never stopped moving—did she do something else wrong?—along her leg, feeling every inch of the injury, imprinting it in her mind. If that horrible memory was going to haunt her, its graphic sound always waiting beyond the edge of her hearing at the smallest prompt, then Fang was going to damn well know the rest of it, too. The wound's sight, the wound's touch. It's a gruesome embrace of sorts, not permitting herself to turn away from Chariot's scarring in any way, determined to know and face it wholly.]
[It's suffocating, that guilt and regret. But that was always the point, wasn't it? Allowing it to course through her without succumbing or struggling was one of the most difficult things Fang's ever done. To endure it, like standing chest deep in an frigid river, challenging the current without panic. Fang's exhales began to rumble under their shared pain and whatever Chariot was mourning, a dirge to the ugliness of healing.]
[Fang felt like buckling under that torrent, unprepared for her lover's own surge of heartache—Fang should've brushed this off—but also felt strangely emboldened by it. She couldn't fold to this. Not to the guilt, not to the nightmares. That tragedy might have scarred her—scarred both of them—but it was irreversibly, irrevocably, part of her now. A simple and blunt truth, survival written on her skin.]
[She opened her eyes, turning her head enough to stare into the water, idly watching her hand trace repeatedly over Chariot's scars. Her own gruesome brand stood out in compliment on her wrist, like a mismatched set.]
Scars, [Fang murmured after a moment, eyes still tracing the movements of her own hand. She still hurt, and the guilt was still running its course, but those determined embers in her heart stoked a little higher.] It's just another scar. It's proof we lived.
[Chariot's mangled foot was just another scar, if one infinitely more severe than any of Fang's own. Fang accepted each and every one of her own marks as part of herself. She wore them without shame.]
[She could come to accept Chariot's scar into herself, too.]
The words echo with her. They fill the space between what she could physically feel in that moment and what she felt she should have been able to. It wedged in-between the strangeness and the pain, found its place there, expanded outward, blanketing those mental wounds as well.
They had lived. They were still together. They still had so much faith in one another, so much love and cherishment. What was left of her foot, the scars that ran up to her knee, all of it was something left behind in a hope that it would twist that love into something crueler, something resentful and screaming.
... It hadn't. It was proof they'd lived. ]
Yeah... [ She wished she could say something stronger. ]
It's just... it feels so strange. The nerves are almost all dead, from my calf down to my foot. I can feel you touching it, but not... feel it... I guess I wasn't ready for how that would process, to me...
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It's not being considerate, it's... it's what home should be like, shouldn't it?
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Yeah... Yeah, it should. Guess I still forget, every now and then. It's... been a long time, you know? [Her voiced quieted a little sheepishly—but fondly—at the end. Home. Something that, before getting abducted into a mirror, Fang had resigned herself to never knowing again.]
[Fang doesn't spend long glancing at the freshly-healed wounds. She set the half-full cup aside, peeling off her sodden clothes with a shiver.]
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Warm, wet compress. A healing salve she'd worked up ages ago. Gently applied where she could, cleaning as she went along. Slow, meditative... ]
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[Fang leaned immediately into the pressure, and it wasn't long before her shoulders and head slumped forward without tension. Eyes closed, just breathing, just... being. Letting herself be cared for, letting herself be vulnerable. As Chariot cleaned her fur and soothed the lingering aches, Fang mindlessly began growling that pseudo-purr of hers on each exhalation.]
[There was a lot she had to think about, and something she wanted to ask her Bonded. But just for a few minutes... they could leave the tangled complicated mess of the evening to the side and let this soothing moment be their whole world.]
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After a few moments, she leaned forward to press her forehead against Fang's, letting out a small sigh. ]
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You're too kind, you know that? [She murmured.]
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Am I too kind, or is it you feel you don't deserve this kindness?
[ On the nose, but... not that it was clear Chariot was willing to forgive what happened, there was still things they needed to put into the air between them, to make their way through, to deal with in some way.
One incident, and Chariot forgiving her, Fang saying she'd remembered, wasn't going to magically lift Fang's guilt away. ]
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Both, but that's nothin' new, [She murmurs back honestly; Chariot would've known if she wasn't being truthful. The question reminds her a little of prior conversations with a certain merrow. Deserve was such a tricky word, and had roots so much deeper than this incident.] After smashin' a chunk outta a small planet, guess I don't deserve much.
But that's not the point, is it? Life never gives anyone what they deserve. Only matters what you have.
[There's a bit of cynicism, buried in that. It's a bitter truth Fang's come to harbor over the course of her long life.]
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... Or we should both try to stop thinking less in terms of whether we deserve any of this.
[ Her hands moved to start pulling away her shirt, button by button. Apparently she intended to join Fang in that tub. ]
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[The turnskin reluctantly let go to give Chariot more room to move, but not before pressing a gentle kiss to her neck. Fang brushed her bangs back out of her face and reclined in the bath, casually—if shamelessly—watching the Witch undress.]
...Look, home or not... Thanks. For bein' here. Means a lot to me.
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A part of her that had grown, the part of her that adored Fang's attention... All talks aside, all heavy conversations aside, that sort of thing... that sort of thing had its place, too. ]
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[Fang cocked her head to the side, her mouth crooking up at the corner.]
Tease.
[But warmth and affection filled that complaint—if it could be called a complaint. Fang loved teasing, and being teased.]
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She let out a soft little huff, not speeding up, but shifting her position to push her chest through the already open part of the blouse. No bra beneath... not for sexy reasons, she just hadn't been wearing one while homebound for the most part. It only came on if she was heading out. Which Fang had saved her the trouble of... ]
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[One of Fang's hands lazily rose up, fingers ghosting Chariot's hip, leaving little water trails across the fabric.]
You know, if I were feelin' a little more spirited, I'd just pull you in as you are.
[The tea, the tender touch, the heat of the bath, it was all a wonderful distraction from the ache in her bones and her face, but Fang still wasn't free of this long day's fatigue.]
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Nothing she was wearing was, well. MEANT to be sexy. It was all very simple and plain. House clothes for someone who couldn't go out much. But Fang's words, the way her eyes fixated on her, made her feel like she was a super model.
The show was over after a few more moments, though, and she set her cane aside, having faith she could crawl into the tub on top of Fang easily enough. ]
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[Her crooked smirk spread into a satisfied smile as she watched. The transition was easy, at least, offering steady and supporting hands where needed. The tub was a little bit of a cramped fit for the two of them, water spilling out, since Fang was on the taller side and Chariot not much shorter.]
[Fang sighed happily, her hands immediately starting a slow glide over her Bonded's back. ]
If you're not gonna say anything, you should at least do the decent thing and shut me up.
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Well. Fang had a good idea, either way. Settling in, straddling her bonded, she leaned in to do just that, shutting up Fang with a press of her lips to hers, humming into the embrace, letting herself soak in the moment, the warmth of her lover, and all of those wonderful feelings that prickled between them...
The water could spill out. She didn't care. ]
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She could argue with her worst self back and forth all day about whether or not she deserved any of this, whether or not this love could be hers, something built by them both even if the seed had been based in projected familiarity... But when she was actually with Fang, the argument felt so muted and distant... ]
I love you... [ She whispered between those lazy kisses, settling in against Fang's shoulder eventually. It'd probably be a bad idea to fall asleep in the tub, huh? ]
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[An arm cradled Chariot as she folded against her shoulder, and Fang's forehead dropped softly against the Witch's crown in an fond bunt, echoing her words silently in their connected souls.]
[And made the mistake of caressing her other hand down Chariot's side, relishing in the feel of her skin until Fang's hand faltered at her knee. She tried to smooth that stutter out quickly tracing circles with her hand, but that same Bond that let them communicate so purely wouldn't allow her to hide the sudden burr in her heart.]
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[ Right. That made... sense. Too much sense. The reflective nature of the Bond had its downsides, and that reaction fed back into itself, and Chariot felt in her chest the very same pain Fang did, at any reminder of what had happened. The scar there... it was never going away. They'd have to learn to cope with its existence... ]
It's okay...
[ She wasn't certain what, exactly, she was saying that for. To validate Fang's feelings? Her own? Did it ultimately matter? ]
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[That scar was never going away. It stood as a permanent testament to what they endured, same as the warped flesh ringing Fang's wrists and neck. Kaede's anger stood out in her mind again as her freshly healed wounds throbbed and that guilt began to well again.]
[Another breath. The warmth of the water, the warmth of Chariot stood out, too, accepting and patient and loving. Hesitantly, Fang's hand slid lower to her marred leg to settle on its contours.]
[Fang had to learn to live with this. She couldn't go on drowning in it or hiding from it. Something in the bitter events of this evening had reignited the embers in her heart, but they were still weak. Fragile, like the broken glass her soul was made of. They couldn't yet fight off the torrent of guilt.]
[But maybe Chariot's warmth was enough to shelter it. One more breath, while Fang's fingers gingerly traced her lover's injury under the water. She turned her face into Chariot's hair, murmuring while her other arm curled her Bonded tighter to her.]
Give me a minute? Please.
[Fang had to do this. She couldn't keep living at this demon's mercy.]
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It was so strange, as if she were in a stranger's body, feeling the impact of something far away, and faint, and yet she knew, she knew, it was Fang's hands. Her heart was there, in those fingertips, baring itself naked against that trauma, chained to that wound and trying to turn the iron links into flowered wreathes... ]
Take your time...
[ She wanted to feel it. She could feel her everywhere else. She could feel her love and warmth everywhere else but the nerves along her scar were just... gone. She'd never get to know that touch again. She never realized she had to mourn it until that very moment.
And again, she felt herself crying. ]
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[It's suffocating, that guilt and regret. But that was always the point, wasn't it? Allowing it to course through her without succumbing or struggling was one of the most difficult things Fang's ever done. To endure it, like standing chest deep in an frigid river, challenging the current without panic. Fang's exhales began to rumble under their shared pain and whatever Chariot was mourning, a dirge to the ugliness of healing.]
[Fang felt like buckling under that torrent, unprepared for her lover's own surge of heartache—Fang should've brushed this off—but also felt strangely emboldened by it. She couldn't fold to this. Not to the guilt, not to the nightmares. That tragedy might have scarred her—scarred both of them—but it was irreversibly, irrevocably, part of her now. A simple and blunt truth, survival written on her skin.]
[She opened her eyes, turning her head enough to stare into the water, idly watching her hand trace repeatedly over Chariot's scars. Her own gruesome brand stood out in compliment on her wrist, like a mismatched set.]
Scars, [Fang murmured after a moment, eyes still tracing the movements of her own hand. She still hurt, and the guilt was still running its course, but those determined embers in her heart stoked a little higher.] It's just another scar. It's proof we lived.
[Chariot's mangled foot was just another scar, if one infinitely more severe than any of Fang's own. Fang accepted each and every one of her own marks as part of herself. She wore them without shame.]
[She could come to accept Chariot's scar into herself, too.]
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The words echo with her. They fill the space between what she could physically feel in that moment and what she felt she should have been able to. It wedged in-between the strangeness and the pain, found its place there, expanded outward, blanketing those mental wounds as well.
They had lived. They were still together. They still had so much faith in one another, so much love and cherishment. What was left of her foot, the scars that ran up to her knee, all of it was something left behind in a hope that it would twist that love into something crueler, something resentful and screaming.
... It hadn't. It was proof they'd lived. ]
Yeah... [ She wished she could say something stronger. ]
It's just... it feels so strange. The nerves are almost all dead, from my calf down to my foot. I can feel you touching it, but not... feel it... I guess I wasn't ready for how that would process, to me...
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