the valyrian princess has always been wholehearted in friendship. as a child, her devotion came quickly and without fuss. her attachments made in youth, though far away now both in time and in geography, still threatened to linger for all her days. the same could be said of her friendship with the lady grafton — or the lady royce, she supposed, now. " lady jessamyn, " a welcome distraction from the newest false king who sat upon the throne that was meant for her mother. " it has been a while, hasn't it? " she offers an ebullient smile, reaching out to take the lady's hand in both of hers without much thought. valyrian custom — and lyseni custom, luckily enough — cared little for the perceived impropriety of physical touch that some houses in westeros seemed aghast by. " lys is gorgeous this time of year. and i do still wish for you to visit. don't think my many offers have simply slipped my mind. " it was unlikely to ever happen — she'd be unable to keep up her ruse in her father's home city. but visera enjoyed pretending.
day four with visera targaryen @bybloods
with the new king now watching them all with a crown atop his brow the mood in the gardens seemed to be ebullient. pleasantries exchanged she had found a quieter part of the gardens to survey the proceedings, indulging in a quiet moment with her spouse when it seemed as though despite rarely straying from each other's side there had scarcely been enough time together. the notion almost makes her balk ( almost but not quite when her feeling of comfort around them will always win out ) realising that she had become almost soft in their company and that their side was the one place she wanted to be. perhaps that was why when a familiar figure came into view she was quick to leave their side with a squeeze of their hand and a soft smile, attention then becoming solely focused on the woman before her. "lady visa, what a wonderful surprise." words are smooth but sincere, fondness ringing clear in her tone as she continues. "had I known that you would be attending I would have sought you out all the sooner but we shall simply have to make up for lost time now - how have you fared? I trust all is well in lys?"
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visera presses her lips together into a hard line. her brother had always had extravagant tastes. in anonymity, visera thought it might toe over the line to excess. but she could not control aerys any more than she wished to do so. " if imbibing is not enjoyable, it is pointless, " she insists, " and only serves to dull your mind. " she taps a fingernail against the side of her discarded goblet, dark eyes scanning the room with the child - like curiosity she's retained all her years. it was strange, the way that westerosi high society gathered. it was so little like things were in her mother's kingdom, and yet this was her mother's kingdom. it was where she had grown up. " you talk too much, aerys. you'd do well to indulge in more silent observation. " though the princess's words may lean scathing, the wide smile that blooms on her face suggests nothing but fondness for her younger sibling.
with as much curiosity as he has regarding their family's history in westeros, it is no wonder aerys has dreamt of how the capital appears. the magnificent red keep, however, is one that holds no flame to the regrowth of valyria. where he is usually familiar with ancient architecture beautifully reshaped once more with molten metals, he only finds the clear lack of ... devotion within the royal home. he cannot imagine his own blood residing in a place so void of inspiration and art. even with a goblet full of wine, aerys still finds himself struggling to see what everyone else does of the incredible king's landing. a familiar voice questions his taste and he gives a shrug, glancing into the near empty container. " i find it not nearly strong enough, " at least they can agree on their dislike. " let me guess... it's too strong for you ? " there is a teasing in his tone, taking another sip to finish off the rest of his wine.
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visera regards the lord over the flickering candle set equidistant between them, interested to have finally come into contact with someone not of westerosi's southern kingdom at the feast. at an event such as this, a goblet of wine was more a shield than a beverage, carried if one should wish to parry the blows of conversation. at least — that was what she had learned thus far from her sporadic visits to westeros. as long as she had a goblet in hand, visera found herself feeling no more than truly invisible. further, she relished in it. in westeros, she was no crown princess. the weight of her mother's bloodline still weighed on her shoulders, and the boulder that was reclaiming her late grandfather's throne in this very keep was still hers to push up the hill — but no one here knew that, save she and her siblings. lady visa rogare could sit in a dim corner, bored and left to her own devices. it was a habitat that felt more natural to the valyrian princess than royal duties ever had. " too strong, too sweet ... " she trails off for a second's breadth, " too everything, perhaps. some may call that overkill. " she offers a thin smile, pushing her glass further away from her on the tabletop with a single finger pressed to its base. " lady visa rogare. of lys. " her smile widens, nodding slightly in official greeting. " i fear i haven't tried much in the way of westerosi libations just yet. only enough to know that this particular offering perhaps isn't for me. "
a fish out of water, emir scanned the red keep for familiar faces before resigning himself to the inevitability of mingling. he regretted accepting a proffered cup of wine the moment he lifted it to his lips. maybe it was the furrowed brow of disgust, admittedly poorly concealed, that provoked the woman's question. he flashed her a perfunctory smile. "not too strong. too sweet for my liking. i prefer ale." regardless, he would politely nurse his drink in company. an awkward pause passed before emir cleared his throat to speak once more. "forgive my manners. lord emir mormont of bear island, a pleasure to make your acquaintance. —are you partial to arbor red?" it would amuse him well enough if they were both merely drinking it for courtesy's sake.
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OPEN STARTER ⋆ day one of the tyrell coronation and wedding celebrations, at the feast with any who wish to respond.
the journey from driftmark to king's landing had been a short one. how curious a feeling it was to lay one's head to rest in a keep so close to where her mother's bloodline had ruled for centuries. the red keep itself was nothing like visera's valyria. the once doomed kingdom made a beauty of its ruin, the crumbling infrastructure reshaped with molten metals to retain its original magnificent beauty. king's landing's ruin was not its beauty, according to her mother. it was its rot. watching passers by with the quiet intent innate to her being, visera places her wine goblet aside. " you don't find it too strong? " she queries, refering to the deep red wine that still fills it. her lyseni accent is obvious amongst the din of common tongue conversation, and her dark eyes glitter in the candelight — from a candle that she leans almost too close to in search of a response.
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( rogare targaryen a / anya chalotra / cis woman & she/her ) hear ye hear ye — king garlan tyrell welcomes princess visera rogare targaryen of valyria. his great majesty is glad that the twenty nine year old noble appears to be astute while overlooking that it’s said they are also heedless, as long as they are glad to celebrate peace in the seven kingdoms. fortunately for them, garlan remains oblivious that they aren't happy with his reign and that their true allegiance lies with house rogare targaryen & the kingdom of valyria.
001. dossier .
full name: visera rogare targaryen.
title: crown princess of the kingdom of valyria.
alias(es): doom's daughter.
age: twenty nine.
gender & pronouns: cis woman & she/her.
orientation: bisexual.
allegiance: house rogare targaryen, the people of valyria.
spoken languages: high valyrian, bastard valyrian, the lyseni tongue & the common tongue of westeros.
religion: the old gods of valyria.
002. appearance .
notable features: thick, dark hair, eyes as black as midnight.
height: 5'7.
build: slim, almost willowy.
dominant hand: right.
voice: raspy, like she spent too much time yelling as a child and it just stuck. she has a decidedly lyseni accent.
faceclaim: anya chalotra.
003. personality .
positives: disciplined, observant, astute
negatives: heedless, prying, hyper - independent
moral alignment: chaotic good
touchstones: shallan davar (the stormlight archive), eowyn (lord of the rings), amy march (little women)
004. ties .
parents: queen maegelle targaryen, king syrio rogare
siblings: prince aerys rogare targaryen, prince/ss tba rogare targaryen
children: none
marital status: unmarried, unbetrothed
dragon: darksmoke, currently the size of a house cat and such a dark shade of forest green that he's essentially a black void unless in direct sunlight.
005. more .
visera has always been naturally observant, determined to notice things that others cannot. though she tends to be loud in her happiness, having yelled her way through her childhood to the point where her adult voice is slightly raspy, she can choose be quiet when it counts — keeping to herself in order to be present without being noticed. that said, she often tends to create secrets where they might not actually be — digging too far into something has resulted in her fabricating stories that are almost unbelievable more than once, and though she’s aware of this flaw, she still continues to hunt for bits of knowledge that she likely should not seek. these days, she'd prefer to rely on others to collect the vital information for her — if only to avoid this unfortunate side effect. she still enjoys prying and eavesdropping for sport, however.
studying and lessons were never something that came naturally to visera. despite her distaste for the dusty smell of tomes and the overall dullness of scholarship, she kept her focus by sheer will alone. visera is nothing if she is not bull-headed, and scholars from lys and her father's house could teach her many lessons — those of coin and coffers, of manipulation, and of espionage. visera was privy to them all, and her breadth of knowledge and her political mind matured alongside her. this could do nothing, however; to quiet her hair - trigger temper, nor her tender heart — both traits that transcended her childhood.
now in her late twenties, visera has steeled herself in order to resemble the image of a ruler she has in her mind. the mask that she bears to conceal what she has been told time and again are character flaws has thickened substantially. many who only know her cursorily consider her to be cold in nature, dull, and without much of a personality as a result. she's withdrawn from both valyrian and westerosi high society — preferring to observe from darkened corners as to not draw unnecessary attention to herself. though her siblings are amongst those that she does not hide her true nature from, visera is very well - practiced in concealing her worries from them. she's always done it, managing to attribute the dwindling in the number of her concerns as she aged to the simple act of maturing — though in truth, she's only become a better liar. despite her misgivings, she is kind - hearted, observant, and nearly unfoolable — she spent many days in her youth playing cards for gold, searching the faces of grown men for tells.
wip, more to come !
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tarah thought that she'd perhaps grown too callous. when she was young, shows of violence had shaken her. as she aged, she'd numbed to them. matthos had always enjoyed jousts and melees — displays of strength and tenacity that were all but guaranteed to end in bloodshed. the more tarah was forced to sit in on the show, the less she'd found her knees would feel gelatinous at the sight of someone in pain. though the reach's jousts tended to be slightly more ... flowery — the violence was there all the same. " i'm sure most would understand if you decided you couldn't stomach it, " she offers a warm smile, " especially seeing as you're with child. i remember being unable to handle witnessing any sort of suffering even when both of mine were already infants. it all seemed just ... far too sad. "
Nerissa had been lost in her own thoughts, she thought of her boys and how much they had enjoyed the reach so far. she had been exited to show them the fields of fruits and flowers, fields she had once walked as a little girl, she too had been mesmerized by her surroundings. it had been a dream to witness it in them too. she returns her attention to the lady, a soft smile spreading across her face as she takes the bloom from her, twirling it in her fingers. “i am still pondering about it, it has never been much of my liking, such activities. but it would be a shame to missed the showmen.” she teases on the reach knights slightly.
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a smile falls onto tarah's features. her self-imposed distance from king's landing at all costs made it so that she was generally unfamiliar with those that her brother's children associated with. it was comforting, however, to speak to the one tasked with the protection of drystan's life. perhaps if she were a better aunt, she would have been there to vet the knight who had sworn his sword to the prince in person. alas, she hadn't been — and this conversation would need to serve well enough. " would you not consider acting also a talent, ser? " she questions, tilting her head slightly. " your abundance of jousting prowess does not indicate a lack of theirs, regardless. you'd be wise to not count them out so soon. " the advice is peddled with a smile that remains — she doesn't mean it to be taken too seriously.
Before gaining his position as Drystan’s sworn shield, Addam had never left the green of the Riverlands. And perhaps he was a simple man, but he didn’t think he would have minded if that had continued to be the case for the rest of his life. The emerald hilltops above the Tumblestone, the grey skies during the rainy season, the blue ones during the summer, grass that tickled your hands as you walked through it, all reminded him of home. Of his mother. And while home may be the first place many learn run from, that had never been the case with Addam. While his rooms in the Red Keep were nicer than any he had before, he would have much preferred being back in the brothel, like he was a boy again, sleeping wherever there was space. That was all to say, while all these new locales were impressive, Addam was not impressed. “Absolutely, Lady Baratheon. The Reachfolk may put on a show, but what is a show in the face of real talent, I ask?” Brow was raised in question, even if it was somewhat rhetorical. “Winning a joust is how I ended up as your nephew’s sword shield, you know.”
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politicking was a learned skill. visera knew as much. her lyseni education had lent itself to her abilities in mathematics, in geography and bookkeeping. but no matter how many hours she'd spent half-assedly scouring tomes imported from westeros that detailed their political customs, nothing had taught her as much as what she'd experienced in the moons since she and her siblings had docked in dorne for the first time. the alliance with the lannisport lannisters had been a natural next move — the hightowers were already amongst her closest allies, and nerissa was tybolt's wife. but it was the ruling lord's demeanour and care for his smallfolk that pushed visera to envelope them into her circle. despite that, brynden and tybolt still resided on the outer border of her trust. " lord brynden, " she greets, looking up from the ornate bronze bookmark she'd been inspecting — a peace offering for rhaella, perhaps, something that told of her gratitude for her youngest sibling's efforts in sunspear. " there's something satisfying about spending coin that i find quite dangerous, " she jokes, " like a siren's call. but so far i've managed to fend it off. " she offers a thin smile. " i can't say i've tried a fireplum at all. i spent my time in the orchards scarfing down peaches, instead. " visera found conversation much easier once someone else knew of her true identity. no longer did the oppressive weight of charade weigh down on her, as if lady marra were crushing visera targaryen with the weight of her very existence. but still, she scolds herself inwardly for being so ... flippant. a good ruler required a certain amount of poise — poise that she was still unsure she possessed.
WHERE : highgarden, the markets
WHO : @bybloods
BRYNDEN DIDN'T KNOW WHAT TO THINK about the resurfaced targaryens. it sounded like a mess that may soon land them all in another unwanted war, but he tried to be open minded while visera had been in lannisport even though he'd been more focused on making sure the fleet had recovered well than whatever she and tybolt had been planning. seeing her now in highgarden reminded him of her identity again, a little smile going her way. ❛ good afternoon, lady marra. have you enjoyed the markets ? ❜ he wondered if she'd looked around or was only there for appearance sake.
❛ people have said that the fireplum candies are very good. have you tried any yet ? ❜ brynden asked in the interest of being polite and not as cold as he usually was if tybolt did align their house with her.
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aemma finds herself smiling down at her creation, revelling in the first moment of true peace she's felt in moons. what had begun as a tentative crouch in the sand had evolved into their skirts riddled with sand, sat firmly amongst the grains as they sculpted a fretfully mediocre rendition of runestone — their sister jessa's home. " if there is a trick, i fear i haven't been let in on the secret. " they admit, shifting their positions slightly so that the lady tyrell can see just exactly what they mean by that. " i've managed to make something, " she shakes her head slightly, beaming down at the lumps of sand almost involuntarily. " but i've enjoyed the process. if we were all artists, good art wouldn't mean much of anything at all. "
content upon the sands, half molded between her fingers in shape reminiscent of highgarden itself — less impressive than her ancestral home. " there may be a trick to this. i recall being able to build much taller sand structures before the tide came in to send them back to sea. " patience aided younger pursuits where malina had grown into restless energy that had been tamed only by word upon a page or the interest of something she did not consider herself knowledgeable in. " it is a good thing that there is no competition. i would hate to fail so miserably at something that i put together by avocation. have you managed to make something splendid ? " asks while dark hues peer over the sand to them.
open starter, bride's day beach event ( 0 / 6 )
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CLOSED STARTER ⋆ fated for @ofhereditas , day one of the wedding celebrations , in the courtyard with leo banefort .
visera had heard of house banefort long ago. when she'd first come to westeros under the guise of looking for local folklore, house banefort had been third mentioned — after only house upcliff in the vale and house reed in the north. however, seeing as she wasn't truly seeking out myths and legends, leo had only come into her peripheral when she had absorbed tybolt lannister into her circle of modest trust. the privilege did not yet stretched to the lord banefort, no matter how much trust tybolt put in the man. visera had learned quickly that she should trust no one but herself — and even then, she tried to take her own opinions with a grain of salt. " lord banefort, " she greets with a polite nod of her head — a gesture common for lady marra, but not visera herself. " have you spent much time in the reach? "
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CLOSED STARTER ⋆ fated for @ephiiphanies , day one of the wedding celebrations , in the orchard with cassian baratheon .
visera had lost her partner amongst the fruit trees, but she doesn't mind the moment of solitude. in the free cities, many of her days had been spent alone. since they'd docked in sunspear moons ago, seldom had she had a moment to herself. the squat, stocky peach trees provide insulation from the sounds of others picking fruit rows over, and visera strolls through them at what some would consider a snail's pace. the warmth of the sun in the reach is reminiscent of lys, and she finds herself homesick as she bites into a peach. homesick, and annoyed at herself for still thinking of lys as home. rounding the corner of another row, the presence of another takes her by surprise. she stops, recognizing him as the baratheon prince. the man who lived the life her brother viserys should have been living. " my apologies, your highness, " she says, dropping her bitten peach to the side as if to conceal it. for what purpose, she isn't sure. she makes to turn back from whence she came, jaw clenched slightly, her bitterness towards the baratheons still far more potent than she'd wish.
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tarah feels a migraine pulsing inside of her skull threateningly. she turns her face up towards the sun, hoping that its warmth could penetrate and soothe her irritation. regrettably, she's intelligent enough to know that it was not at all likely to happen. " may the mother and father continue to smile down on them, then, " she responds after a long second, opening green eyes once more to turn them on her good sister. once again, she finds herself fending off a pang of grief. she longed for the companionship that she'd had with matthos's first wife, even after all these years. looking upon myrcella's features just made the feeling more prominent. " i hadn't realized you'd become a shipwright in your spare moments, your grace, " her tone offers nothing of the sarcasm tarah privately intends it to, the smile plastered on her face practiced. " this stretch of the mander is not known for its rapids. if a team takes on water or capsizes, they could simply stand up. "
◟ open starter, open to five on day two at the mander.
❛ it's such a lovely day for there to be a race . the gods must be smiling upon this union . ❜ her oaf of a husband should've listened to her for there to have been a match between one of the tyrells & their own children . gyles had done well enough that at least she was only the youngest , & odd one , not fit for king's landing . ❛ though do be careful . from this vantage the boats look a bit rickety . perhaps only fit for leisure rather than a race as the tyrells desire . ❜ the artfully disguised insult had a smile on the queen's face , inviting as she tried to be when in public . away from her husband that cared only about the joust it was easier to pretend .
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jory had been paying attention, just not to the scene unfolding with the lady tyrell. he's surprised when she approaches, blocking the eyeline that he had reserved for the starks, who were in the area. " me? " he questions, hardly bothering to hide his incredulity, her intentions dawning on him belatedly. " perhaps you seek my brother, my lady. the lord of greywater watch. we look quite similar, " he offers a wan smile, unsettled by how . . . unsettled he is speaking of his brother. " almost as if we're twins. " the retreat of the noble she'd been speaking to prior triggers the dawning of realization in his crowded mind. " ah, " he nods, with almost too much vigor, " no need to apologize. that man wouldn't know tact if it died in his bed. " jory, seemingly, may have suffered from a similar ailment, though he does it with a levity that he hopes alleviates any crassness.
she would follow the strict lessons the tyrell matriarch laid out for them all . easy smile on lips , poised to be both graceful and helpful in the midst of the kingdom come to highgarden. malina had not requested much of malaika aside for her to be more hostess than she , to be impediment when she could no longer stand the prying conversation . " i do deeply apologize , however , both the bride and groom have been called away to attend to other things . i would be more than willing to pass along a message , or perhaps , be of assistance to you . " she did not falter , though as her gaze met another , malaika excused herself smoothly with a curtsy . " i have been in search of you , " greeted warmly to be overheard , façade dropping once the other had exited . " my apologies . i did not know of another way to repeat myself for the third time . "
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OPEN STARTER ⋆ day six of the wedding celebrations , in the gardens with any who wish to respond .
the reach was just as she remembered. the years had dulled tarah's stored memories of highgarden, packed away in her brain for over thirty name days. the only memory that remains vivid is the one of her reluctant departure at six and ten. for six years, she'd managed to convince herself she was a rose rather than a storm. her mother's death and the realization that she would be at her father's beck and call until he died were wine too bitter for tarah to swallow. highgarden as it is now is technicolour, and tarah finds herself rather reluctant to leave once more. " will you be attending the joust later on? " she questions, tilting her head slightly with the query. she picks a brilliant pink rose from its bush, offering it to the other. " it's sure to be a spectacle. the knights of the reach are nothing if not showmen. "
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observing alys, jory is reminded of what he has lost. it was not anything material so much as it was his youthful optimism. the jory that had chosen squiredom over learning to rule over the neck had long faded, and had taken the expectations that he had for this future version of himself along with him. ultimately, jory's goal had been accomplished. he was a knight, the captain of winterfell's guard, and he was good at what he was tasked with. but the path jory had taken to get there had been such a heinous deviation from what he'd once dreamed of within the walls of greywater watch. " lord edric learned that from me. " he says as much in jest, offering a smile that fades as he contemplates the question she levies at him. it's not one that can be answered simply, but he attempts anyway. " be loyal to what matters. it doesn't have to be the starks, or winterfell, or bear island — though it can be. " he struggles to wrangle his train of thought, sighing quietly. " you can be the finest technical swordsman the realm has ever seen, all of westeros can know of your prowess in battle — but it'll mean nothing if you don't have something to fight for. "
" a team, yes, " alys agrees with a nod, grinning at the attention she knows bear is enamored with. he is spoiled, no doubt, but has grown comfortable with those frequently seen such as the captain of winterfell's guards. his reassurance is absolutely welcomed and they let out a deep breath the mormont hadn't realized they were holding. " lord edric says much of the same, " she remembers after the hunt feeling a bit embarrassed with a lack of contributing, but ned had reminded them there are more important traits for a knight to have. riding seems more of a priority to alys, thankful they placed well in the race - jory was right, second place is more than fine. " what do you think are the most important skills about knighthood, ser ? i have been focusing more on how to wield a sword, but i know there is more to it than that. "
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jory merely shakes his head. the presence of a direwolf could ward off many an amateur assailant. but the kind that sought to kill members of great houses — the kind that attacked the queen along the kingsroad — they would know of ned's wolf and have already decided how to deal with it thirty times over. regardless, jory doesn't feel like wasting his breath. his friend is privy to his concerns already. " no, " he responds in his usual gruff fashion, looking to ned for further rebuttal. dark gazes locked, jory senses that there's something waiting on the tip of ned's tongue, and he silently hopes that the other man doesn't allow the words to spill over. after years of friendship, jory finds that the majority of their communication occurs between the lines of what is not said, rather than what is. " i could throw the uniform in lannisport's stenching harbour and i'd still lead the guard, " he counters, " what do a sigil and cape mean then, ned? " he shrugs, more than sufficiently convinced that he's won the topic. " i've told you time and time again, brother. you should only put your good money on the good men. " with this, he jokingly references the men that joust as their life's calling — the ones who preferred showmanship over bloodshed.
with another he might have been suitably chastised but the closeness from years of friendship meant that slightly less guilt was felt over choosing not to bother him simply because he wanted some air. "I brought one." head is inclined towards the direwolf now sat peacefully at his side, seemingly more relaxed as though jory's arrival had relieved him of his duties. but he knows it's not the response that his friend wants and so he attempted some kind of contrition. "would you accept the fact that I trust you to never be far behind?" though he thought his faith in the other man to be implicit, the stark had never seen any harm in giving a reminder every now and again. the last thing he would ever wish for would be for his closest friend to feel undervalued. "a collection of letters and a uniform, don't forget the uniform." the idea of challenging the reed over dodging his question is toyed with before it is rejected. while he might wish to give some support to the other northerner he also wished to allow him peace. pushing would only make him a hypocrite when there had been countless times throughout his life he had chosen silence over burdening another. so he allows privacy, "well I shall hope that is ready enough, I have good money resting on you."
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