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Post by Lady Smara on Oct 23, 2011 16:16:40 GMT -5
Taking the offered arm a little more heavily than her pride would have normally allowed, unless of course she was working them over for a romp in the furs, Sakorai found that her head did spin a little bit, though whether that was from her brief laps with no air or from the sheer weight of what had happened was hard to tell. In either case, the tall woman was comforted to find that the man was not only large enough, but sturdy enough for the both of them. Thankfully, it only took her several steps to get her legs more solidly under her and her grip upon him loosened into what would be considered more of a polite gesture.
As soon as they were back out into the cloudy, grey bowl her hand left his arm instantly as she moved to her gold. The gold’s head swung low as a whole cascade of gentle croons and purrs began to wash over her rider. Sakorai wrapped her arms around the gold’s muzzle as best as she could, clearly unable for either of them to get close enough as they took comfort in each other’s presence once more. Finally reaching as high as she could, Sakorai ran a long fingered hand down her Gold’s head before turning to frown at the now damp riding harness still upon her gold and the mud that covered her gold’s hide.
“Issarith, love…” She crooned herself as she moved to her gold’s side, unbuckling the harness with obviously practiced hands for the massive harness fell away in moments. “You are filthy.”
It’s Neinoth’s fault. The gold sent back, though there was no regret or malice in her voice. The bronzes here… They are larger than I am.
Pausing, Sakorai frowned as she hefted up the riding harness, walking around her gold and back to where A’lez was. From there, she had a better view of the bronze in question with the healer on top of him and Ichor all over the place. While Bronzes of their own times were usually close in size to Issarith, there had only been one or two who were as large if not a breath larger. This one was almost a full half meter longer. This made Sakorai raise an eyebrow as she dumped the riding harness near the infirmary door to collect and dry later. For now, she had nowhere else to put it.
“He is larger than you.” She replied softly, before the gold’s head bumped into Sakorai in a loving nudge. A soft smile tore at Sakorai’s lips as she turned once more to her gold. “I can bathe you now love –“
No. Eat and drink. You need to calm. You may oil me when you are cared for. You scared me, mine. Do not scare me like that again.
Again Sakorai lifted her hand to her gold’s muzzle before apologizing and kissing the bridge of the gold’s muzzle. “No, my love. I will not.” Turning back to the bronze rider, the Weyrleader – she had to remind herself – she nodded to him. “I will fetch the harness when the weyr is prepared. I will need oil for Issarith, but first it would be best for both of our nerves should we eat.” Pausing to glance back over at Issarith, she nodded again. “I Assume you will not miss a herdbeast or two for a Queen?”
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Post by Marnark on Oct 23, 2011 17:33:40 GMT -5
Once the Rider and dragon were together and started fussing over one another, A'lez took the moment to walk over to where Neinoth was sprawled out on the ground, head resting sideways upon the ground as he tolerated the Healer's work. Numbweed worked fast, but not entirely fast enough sometimes. Especially when R'gar in particular preferred to clean the wound before he gummed it up with numbweed salve. It was harder to tolerate, but everyone had to admit that he tended to get things cleaner that way - and infection instances were far reduced for it. "How is it?" A'lez asked, resting a hand upon the Bronze's neck. He knew exactly what Neinoth was going through - he could feel every twitch, pang, and stab himself.
R'gar glanced up at him for only a moment before returning his attention to his work. "Not too bad, considering what he got bit by." He answered. "Flight shouldn't be hindered at all. Launch, sustained flight, and landing should all be sound just as soon as I get him stitched up. But walking will probably be all hell for him simply due to skin movement. Meat damage is minimal, though there is a little." He sighed and straightened for a moment while he waited for the numbing weed to take effect. "He's going to have a right lovely scar for it."
"Scars we can live with, so long as function isn't compromised." A'lez answered with a nod. He patted Neinoth's neck even as the Bronze rumbled protests about how scars were not acceptable ... how was a scarred bronze supposed to wow a Lady and woo her? A'lez only smiled a little and walked back to where Sakorai was working the harness off of her dragon.
A'lez nodded in acknowledgment of her requests. It was only expected after all. "Oils, soaps, towels, water ... anything you need will be laid out for you." He assured her. "For both you and your dragon. D'seus is seeing to it personally, as is our Headwoman." He used Emera's title rather than name due to Sakorai's not knowing who she was anyway. He gestured toward the entrance that would most directly lead to the main hall with another nod. "Most certainly. The Hall is this way, and Issarith can have as many beasts as she cares to eat. The pens are just outside the Bowl. I would warn her to stay away from the jungle line, however. I wouldn't want to see her lovely hide damaged."
Whenever she saw fit to move, A'lez escorted her to the Mainhall as well. Seeing as he wouldn't have the first clue what she would want, he left detailing what she wanted to her. The cooks could handle it, he was sure. Despite everything that had changed ... the Northerners really hadn't had much to say about Southern cuisine. So they should have something pretty close to what she wanted, even if there would be a few centuries of recipe drift somewhere in there.
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Post by Lady Smara on Oct 23, 2011 21:07:31 GMT -5
She had known that. It registered in the back of her mind that D’seus had mentioned to go and prepare her a weyr and yet for some reason it had failed to fully sink in. Even now, as Sakorai nodded that she would walk with A’lez and that he should lead the way, she felt as if things were still not fully sinking in. It was as if there were a bubble around her, some sort of sticky sap that made things spoken and said take longer to actually reach the part of her brain that made sense of it all.
“I –“ she started, pausing again as she glanced back at her gold and nodded as the gold settled down where she was rather than lifting off to search for the feeding pens. “I am impressed at how quickly your Weyr is to accommodate me without first discussing things among your Wingleaders and Senior Weyrwoman.” She said, her eyes not on the path that they followed, but instead searching the ledges and doors around the Weyr. How different was it from the cove she had just left behind in the summer sun – and yet how very similar. She had just been here… a hundred and more turns before.
Finding herself stepping into the WeyrHall, she had not noticed how cold her skin had been out in the damp bowl until the heat of the WeyrHall kissed that same skin. Again her eyes were everywhere, taking in everything. To think that this cliff face had been flat and bare – with only one small cavern that had lead to surprisingly warm sands – sands and cavern that her and Issarith had deemed suitable to enlarge for a hatching ground. Her breath was shallow. Never had she dreamed of actually seeing it completed – they had gone south merely for precaution; A safe guard against the rising tensions in the north.
“Stew. Hot Stew please.” She said when they came near the cooks. Now Sakorai’s eyes were upon a pair of flits sitting high in the rafters, her eyebrows high even as she seemed to naturally point toward a nearby wine skin. “Is that Benden Red by chance?”
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Post by Marnark on Oct 23, 2011 21:38:02 GMT -5
Stew she asked for. Stew she got, and very quickly. Stew was something the kitchen always had on. A'lez personally liked it older, because by then some of the tubers had dissolved and made the whole thing deliciously thick and stick-to-your-ribs good, so he only ever bothered to get any if it was that way. Once the kitchen produced the dish she asked for, A'lez saw to it she had a place to sit to eat as he watched what she noticed and what caught her attention.
At first glance it might seem everything, at closer inspection it was far more specific. He settled into a seat opposite the table from her and rested his elbows on the edge of it. "No. I am afraid that anything produced in the North stays in the North. We don't have anything to do with the other continent for centuries. I have only just this last week opened any kind of communication with them, and at that only with Keroon." He answered. "So far as consulting the Weyr Leadership ... you've already met half of it. D'seus and I are two of three wingleaders. The third really doesn't want any hand in running the place as a whole - he's happiest with just his wing. Our Weyrwoman, as it were, is only a weyrling as of yet. We're still working on giving her the ropes as she adjusts to the position." He was pretty sure he'd mentioned that their only adult Gold was at the other Weyr. Maybe she was struggling to take it all in. He rather hoped she wasn't as dense as all that. Twice now, he'd already had to tell her things over again. "So ..." He spread his hands. "Welcome to Refuge Weyr. We have absolutely no problem with you being here or making space for you, even if your arrival was completely unexpected and unlooked for. Given the way that bad luck falls out of the sky, we're not going to look askance at any good luck that does the same." He told her honestly.
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Post by Lady Smara on Oct 23, 2011 21:45:01 GMT -5
Listening to what few numbers the Weyr had, she frowned. Her gold had mentioned two others who had not yet flown, even so to imagine a Weyr with only three working wings and an adolescent gold was still something difficult for Sakorai to wrap her head around. Focusing on her stew, she quickly put the spoon back down with a thud as she sat up straighter and looked the bronze rider in the eyes.
“You know I can’t stay.” She said, as if there were no argument to the matter. “My Weyr will be turning themselves inside out looking for me in the South. The riders with me with be reprimanded for no fault of their own. Not only that, Issarith is due to rise once the clutch on the sands hatch. I must have her safely home for the flight.”
Sakorai still spoke as if she were in her own time – as if those Weyrs still existed and life was still continuing there – just as it was here. Everything Sakorai said made sense to her. Sure the Weyr here was very obviously in poor condition with so few dragons and thus far no clutching gold, but that was not Sakorai’s problem. This was not Sakorai’s Weyr. Her Weyr was back home, safely nestled in the North.
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Post by Marnark on Oct 23, 2011 21:59:10 GMT -5
A'lez cleared his throat and paused, weighing carefully what he said next in response to her declaration. "You can't go back." He pointed out gently. "To do so would rip the fabric that is time. No one travels forward in time and then goes back. You'd never make it, and if you did, you would probably do something just by going back that would end the reality that is us." He told her, hoping she would see the logic and truth behind that statement.
"Beyond that, we need you and your Gold here, now. What if your staying here means the difference between Dragons existing for the next hundred turns, and not?" If it was a pure numbers game, it was a long hard haul but they could survive with what they had ... if nothing else bad happened to their golds. But that was the getter wasn't it? With two golds murdered and thread falling ... anything could happen. But he also didn't want to tell her yet about the murders ... not exactly the best way to convince her to stay, was it?
He held up a finger. "If you wish, we can go to the archives. Dig up the histories. No one bothered to look or memorize anything of your topic. But I am sure it is there. We can look and see if you turn up in history. I swear upon my dragon's hide that if there is a mention of you growing old in the records in your time, I won't say a word to you about going. Alright? But if you don't show up ... either you stay here, or you try and go back and you don't make it. In which case, it's better if you just stay. Agreed?"
Hopefully, that would be enough to convince her. Goldriders were typically even more aware of their mortality than any other Rider ... and riders were pretty sharding aware. Their dragons never let them forget it.
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Post by Lady Smara on Oct 23, 2011 22:21:50 GMT -5
“Well I hate to break it to you, Weyrleader A’lez, but this time doesn’t seem exactly the best that it could have been. Look at you guys! You’ve only got three working wings and two gold’s here who have not even clutched yet. If I go back, I can better prepare us for the move south. If we know it is inevitable, then we will be better prepared and your future now will be better off for it.”
“And as far as you needing me here, would it not be better to avoid the decline of the Weyrs rather than trying to build it up from where it is now? People often say hind-sight is perfect. I can take the time to learn what went wrong, and then fix it before it goes wrong.”
Finding his finger held up, she stilled her tongue, if only barely as she lifted the glass of southern wine to her lips. She ended up putting down the glass without a taste, however, as her eyes narrowed on him. It made sense to consult the records, as much as she hated the smell of such old hides. But his words made sense – if she died an old age, she’d know that she’d gone back. If she was not in the records after their last clutch though… She would not risk Issarith if they were not mentioned in the past. As much as she hated to admit it, the Weyrleader made perfect sense in this.
“Very well. If no mention of us are in the records, then Issarith and I will stay. I will not risk her – but I am confident you will find us there. She came through the jump fine. I am sure I will as well so long as I am expecting the longer time between.” Her explanation was left at that, there was no reason to tell this man she had been fooling around just before the jump.
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Post by Marnark on Oct 23, 2011 22:57:04 GMT -5
A'lez shook his head. "If you go back and try to change things 'for the better', what you will do is prevent the reality that is this from existing at all. Ripples spread far and wide in the concept that is time. Depending on which way they go - and there is no telling or controlling, the smallest thing can have an effect - we may never happen at all. As people, much less as a Weyr. As dragons. Subtle shifts can push people in different directions. Different things get done, different people get met at crucial crossroads." He shrugged. "It's too big of a mess to even contemplate the full ramifications of going forward in time, and then back again. Going back, and then forward is far simpler and less chaotic. Mostly because when you're going back, you've already been back. And going forward is back to your home time. That is not the case, in this instance. It is completely backward. What you will do is come forward, experience a reality that doesn't even exist if you go back to change it. If it wasn't there to experience, you can't have experienced it to have changed it - thus creating a potentially fatal tear in your own past. So it's convoluted in that direction as well. Do you understand?" A'lez asked, hoping that all the noodle thoughts would get too tangled to truly be sorted out, but make enough sense to warn her off of even trying. It was just too much of a mess.
"Yes, your dragon survived the jump fine. You almost didn't. If you had appeared anywhere else in the jungle, you would be dead. As it is, you just happened to have a good healer on hand when you landed, to get you breathing again. That might not be the case when you return ... and if you don't make it, by proxy neither does your dragon. I don't want to see that happen ... or even think about it happening." A'lez told her sincerely.
Even with all that, he was pretty well convinced that they wouldn't find records of her making it back to her time. Mostly because if she did, and did make changes ... the reality wouldn't exist to hold those records. The only way this reality could persist was if she didn't make it back - for whatever reason. So naturally this reality wouldn't reflect her making it back - because this reality did, in fact, exist. And he didn't want to see a Gold wasted on a realty's effort to keep existing.
She had a healthy appetite at least. To go with that rather healthy physique she had. It was refreshing to see a Gold rider that wasn't all lady. It was odd to see a tomboyish Goldrider, but nice all the same. A gal that looked willing to get her hands dirty. But now was not a good time to get distracted. Clearly he was going to be having a war of wits with her until the actual records were dug out. Thankfully, they had a competent Archivist.
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Post by Lady Smara on Oct 23, 2011 23:08:44 GMT -5
Sakorai returned to the stew with almost a savage appitite, though the savagery of it was not due to her hunger, but rather her frustration with the man. What he was attempted to explain made absolutely no sense – and yet at the same time she was compelled to believe that there was a twisted, confusing truth to it all. In the end he was right, but shard it all that didn’t mean he might not be wrong when the records were pulled.
Finishing of the stew, she stood up and grabbed the glass of wine, this time managing to take a drink. It was bitter and did not go down nearly as smoothly as a glass of Benden Red, but it had an aftertaste that almost burned like quickal. If their wine could almost burn, she had an itch to try their harder stuff. Closing her eyes, she took another, smaller sip and rolled it across her tongue, this time savoring the flavor of that almost-burn before swallowing and opening her eyes again.
“By all means, let us consult the records then.” She said, lifting the glass and motioning with that hand for him to lead the way – whichever way that might be – as she was careful not to spill anything. What would she do if she were not in the records? What could she do?
Then we will rise here and bring new blood to the dying Weyr. I think you just like the bronzes already. I am not you, Sakorai. Yet you stayed to watch the bronze and the healer. If this Weyr shall be mine, then it is my duty to see to the health of my harem. I hate clumsy hands.
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Post by Marnark on Oct 23, 2011 23:15:29 GMT -5
He had no idea if the explanation meant anything to her or not ... she seemed to be grasping to the hope of what the records held. To use that as her way out, the deal he'd already made her if she did turn up in them. A'lez only hoped that his guess was right. That she wasn't in them. The Weyr really needed her Gold ... and just maybe, her too. An experienced Weyrwoman to take the helm. They really needed her to stay. Not wanted. Needed.
But when she finished eating, grimaced over her wine and then seemed to enjoy it afterward (what a strange pair of reactions), A'lez got to his own feet as well. Quietly he led her through the adjoining tunnels to the Archives. With a few quick words, he informed the Archivist just exactly what they were there for. The time frame, the people, the place, all that. It took a little over a quarter candlemark, but the Archivist did produce a handful of scrolls that pertained to that area/time/people. Taking them with a word of thanks, A'lez carried them over to a reading table and set them down.
"Be my guest." He said, gesturing to them for her perusal. He could already tell that she was only going to believe what she saw if she saw it for her own self. He certainly didn't want her accusing him of altering them in any way.
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Post by Lady Smara on Oct 23, 2011 23:27:17 GMT -5
Finding herself surrounded by the smell of the aging hides, Sakorai could not help but wrinkle her nose in distain. Shards how she hated the records, paperwork, hides, scrolls – even maps. Why not go about doing your work with your own eyes. Keep it rested in your own memory to save yourself the stench of it all. In truth, she never did come to understand or learn why she hated it so, but she would much rather have herself filthy to the elbows in curing numbweed or even slautering the herdbeasts for the stores than mulling over the information kept upon hides.
It was with another good swallow that she set her glass down a little more loudly than was needed to show her dislike of the task ahead. Pulling out the chair that was at the little reading table, she was glad to see it had no arm rests as she spun it around and sat upon it backwards, tilting it toward the table and picking up the first of the old hides.
“I am glad to see you have an archivist. You should consider using the candidates as scribes and report runners. It keeps them busy and allows you to get to the real work of the Weyr, not fumbling over pieces of hide that can be more quickly conveyed through voice or a quick walk of the stores.” She spoke as her eyes glanced over the page. It was not that she was bad with numbers or letters herself, on the contrary, she simply hated sitting still for long unless it was during a game of cards. Even then she was joking crudely to distract herself.
“Here, this is Issarith’s recent clutch. Three bronzes listed, three browns, five blues and a dozen greens.” She ignored noting the dud eggs as she didn’t see why they needed to be recorded. Why record a fact that upset Issarith so? Nobody could explain why her clutches were more prone to duds. She certainly took well enough care of them – in fact she smothered them in affection because she hoped to chase away any ill duds with her love.
Continuing down the page, Sakorai’s frown began to form, however, even as her eyebrows knit together. Putting down that hide, she picked up the next.
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Post by Marnark on Oct 23, 2011 23:37:26 GMT -5
A'lez frowned slightly at Sakorai's seating methods, but didn't comment on it. Or on her suggestions of how best to keep the Candidates busy. Candidates already worked in the archives - under close supervision of course. He leaned the bulk of his weight upon the table via palms pressed to its surface as he watched her pour over the scrolls.
He had no idea what they said, but he had an educated guess on what they should say. "Be sure to cover about ten turns ahead, just in case. It's a big jump." He suggested, just to dispell any misgivings or second guesses she might have. Might as well get this over with once and for all and get to the meat of what needed to be done. Bickering over has-beens and should-haves would never be a thing to be placed upon his to-do list.
Three Bronzes, three Browns, five Blues and a dozen Greens. A'lez rolled those numbers around in his head speculatively. If that was what Issarith produced with the earlier Bronzes - who were naturally smaller and less endowed with endurance (as seemed to be the growing history of dragons - always getting bigger and stronger), he could only wonder what she would produce with a current Bronze. A'lez hoped they would get the chance to find out. She sounded like a gold to keep, for sure. Proven, at the very least ... if nothing at all else. Right now, with only one adult Gold, being proven was a heavy weight.
As Sakorai read, A'lez was momentarily distracted with new input from Neinoth. Who was apparently done being stitched up and was now being washed off to make him clean again ... or semi-handsome as the Bronze preferred to think of it. He could already tell the Bronze was trying his hardest to flirt with the new Queen already ... especially since she had stuck around for his getting patched up. Never mind he hadn't at first realized that considering he'd been sprawled out on the ground looking the other way.
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Post by Lady Smara on Oct 23, 2011 23:50:07 GMT -5
She had found mention of her disappearance while in the South. It seemed, to her anger, that they had chalked it up to her own self-endangerment and recklessness in the Southern Jungles. A deep scowl was on her face now as she turned that hide face down and picked up the next, a glare shot at the bronze rider as he told her to check further into the future. She wanted to snap at him as much as she wanted to snap at the riders who had written the records and referred to her as ‘a reckless goldrider’. She had yet to see him pick up one of the nasty hides, but even so she would have demanded to see for her own eyes that mention of her again was not made. After all, he could have easily said that there was not and hide the fact from her.
And so it was, with growing irritation that she moved from one hide to the next, her anger growing as the glass of wine slowly emptied and time passed. Putting down the last hide of the brief historic events of the twenty turns after her ‘reckless disappearance’ the only comfort she had was that the senior gold of Telgar had not produced a second golden daughter – forcing the Weyr to accept a junior from another Weyr as their queen. No, she was rather fond of the way that had turned out. If no mention of her was made, she might as well let that come to pass. It would serve the dimglow of a Weyrwoman right.
Finally the last hide was tossed on the table angrily as she stood, disregarding her empty wine glass as she pushed past the bronze rider toward the door they had entered from.
I hope you’re hungry. Yes, you are irritated. I am just thinking how wonderful it would be to get my hands bloody when I wash you. Please, make a grand mess. Calm yourself, mine…
Finding her way easily to the WeyrBowl, she shouted her anger at the gold. “They didn’t even search for you, Issarith! After the expedition group returned north and reported you gone, they didn’t even go back! Not once! They left you for lost!”
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Post by Marnark on Oct 24, 2011 0:05:06 GMT -5
A'lez acquired the Archivist's attention after the goldrider stormed off, picked up the wine glass, and followed her. Mostly because he was rather wary of what she might do. Hearing her outburst toward the Gold, however, he couldn't help but sigh. "You don't know that, Sakorai." He pointed out. "Histories are hardly all inclusive... as well as tainted by the view of the Archivist taking the events down to be recorded. Several forays could have been made, but turned up empty. Given the uneventful nature of the trips, they may well have never been jotted down ... or as equally possibly ... left out by whomever copied the texts onto new sheets." A'lez offered, hoping it would soothe her ruffled feathers.
Faranth, but she was a fiery woman. "If it makes you feel any better, that certainly would not be the case these days. We'd turn the globe upside down looking for you if you turned up missing." Granted, it was true of any Gold pair they currently owned, but any goldpair was not the issue right now. She was.
Neinoth crooned softly, edging over toward where Issarith was standing. He didn't want to see her upset, and clearly her rider was upset ... there was a good chance that the Queen herself would get upset too because of it. His reasons for wanting her calm were many. One of them being the dozens of stitches he now wore in his hide. Another being that was just his natural reaction to a lovely Lady in distress. Rescue her, of course.
Reaching out to touch her right behind her jaw with the soft end of his snout, Neinoth's eyes swirled with colors of concern. I would look for you. he told her quietly, with utmost sincerity.
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Post by Lady Smara on Oct 24, 2011 0:18:33 GMT -5
“No!” she shouted, turning around to glare at the bronze rider, her cheeks flushed in her anger. “That does not make me feel ANY better! Dragon’s do not go missing! Even if it was a green I’d have turned out the Weyr in search – And I would have searched myself!” If for no other reason than to get out of the Weyr and doing something useful. “By the shell, she never wanted me there, I understand that! But she had no right to not search for Issarith!”
The gold felt the gentle pressure upon her jaw and her head twisted to regard the larger bronze. It would be best if you did. It would look poorly upon you if you were to lose your gold. The queen replied, though surprisingly her voice was calm for the moment. Turning her gaze back to her rider, she let out an audible snort.
Rider-mine. If you feel they valued us too little, then would it not be best to stay here?
The blond woman winced before turning back to her gold and waving her arms in a shooing motion. “Go! Eat something and make a bloody mess. I need to wash something.” She muttered angrily before glancing at the bronze rider. “I hope you have a competent Archivist.” It was a dark reply – one that he didn’t really deserve for the insufficiency of the past. She didn’t really care at the moment however. She had no desire to stay, though now she has just as little desire to go back now.
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