rekindleme | To look back upon it

Entry tags:

To look back upon it

Who: Ramza Beoulve, some memories, and you!
Where: Citywide, but particularly Housing Building #1 and the market
When: All day on May 30th
Summary: A catch-all for the memory event! Ramza's been having some pretty unusual dreams lately, drawn from the memories of others. And he's starting to gather that others are likely seeing his own...
Warnings: Memories of familial disdain, death, kidnapping... let's be honest, Ramza's life wasn't sunshine and rainbows.

They weren't the most grisly of dreams he'd had, but the images had burned into his mind with impeccable clarity: Massacre. Betrayal. Confrontation. Elation. Sights and sensations he'd all seen and felt in his fair share yet in worlds unknown... and with names disquietingly familiar.

He knew well enough that the memories weren't his own. The question was whether others would come to recall his.

Ramza had done well in keeping himself out of sight for the first day or two- the last thing he needed were questions about battle or blasphemy when he'd worked for more than a half-year to free himself from the shadows he'd hoped to leave behind in Ivalice!- but he couldn't keep himself out of the eyes of his friends forever any more than he could cloister himself forever.

Besides, he had his guesses for the owners of the lost memories that drifted his way. And if they saw his in kind, they deserved answers. Or perhaps he simply hoped he could exonerate himself from the doubts they no doubt had of him now.

And either way, he was running out of groceries. He'd just... spend a little extra time in the building's lobby and the market square today and see what came of it.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It was in the square that Freya finally came across the friend she'd been debating over searching for, her own dreams having brought her a few confusing and distressing images. She was fairly certain as to the owners of the memories, given the way she was addressed in them, and she had already sought out the others to speak to them. Ramza was the last, simply because she wasn't sure how to approach him about it. This was certainly a personal matter, and she had to wonder what he had seen as well.

"Ramza," the knight said, somewhat relieved to see her friend out and about. "I have been wanting to speak with you. How are you faring?"

She wasn't one to rely on the network, simply because it wasn't something she was as accustomed to as looking for others in person. It was just more familiar to go knock on someone's door and speak in person than over a screen. In any case, what she wanted to discuss felt like it needed to be addressed in person.

All things considered- and in light of a memory he'd glimpsed that, even among his friends, could only have belonged to her- Razma wasn't sure whether Freya was the one he most or least wished to see. Whichever the case, his heart all but stopped for a beat at her greeting. He endeavored to hide it as he turned to welcome her in kind.

"Freya," he replied as he approached her. "I should say the same."

He gave a cursory glance around the market square before refocusing his sight upon hers... sensitive though the subject may have been, for all the bustle of passerby, few ears were turned to them. It was just a matter of finding the words. Could he even find any to express what he saw? What Freya must have felt? What he felt out of sympathy alone before waking in cold sweat?

In the end, with more heart than thought and where no words would suffice, his arms encircled her shoulders and he pulled her close, his own breath shaky within his chest.

"...I'm sorry," he spoke at last. "I know not how you bear it..."

The hesitance in both their speech was enough to speak to the sorts of memories they had both seen from the other's mind, and for a moment, Freya looked away. If Ramza had spoken to her about his brother's rejection, it would have been simple enough to offer her sympathy. But to actually experience it in a way, and feel what he felt... it made the words much more difficult to gather. She wasn't able to find them before she felt the man's embrace, but she returned it in kind without pause.

"Nor I you," she said quietly, resting her head against his. "But I feel we should find somewhere to sit and discuss it."

She still knew not what to say, but even if they spent most of the time sitting side by side to comfort the other in silence, it would be enough for her.

By the time he'd given thought to his own motions he'd held her long enough, and somewhat awkwardly released his grip upon her. Gods be good, he hoped it didn't seem patronizing... but her willingness to return it was a bit of comfort, however bittersweet it may have been in that regard.

And it was made all the more bitter at the thought of just what she might have seen from his own life.

But the bustle and business around them only grew more noticeable with time and Ramza had to cede to her suggestion. His reply was a nod, but- as he walked and led her out from the commons and into the calm- he couldn't hold his own worries for long.

"I... can only imagine what you must have seen of me," he spoke only after much searching and hesitation. "But know that I never wished to have my hands bloodied so..."

It was clear to her as she followed Ramza to a quieter place that he was concerned over what she might have seen, as she was about what he might have. But even though that much was obvious to her, she was thinking more about how the memory she'd seen fit into his life and what he'd told her, so his comment didn't quite make sense to her. Certainly he'd never seemed the type to seek out violence for its own sake, and she never would have imagined him so.

Her hand came to her mouth as she considered him for a moment, head tilted slightly.

"I would not think such things of you, Ramza," she replied, "no matter what I may see. I can only imagine how difficult it must have been to fight in a war whose intentions are so unclear."

"I--"

Her words brought his thoughts to a sudden halt. Certainly to hear her forgiveness and understanding was a relief, and he quietly chastised himself for presuming she had seen the worst... but what could she have seen of the war amidst his memories?

Well, it was a better charge than heresy. He nodded, though hardly knowingly. "...It was for bloodshed, and bloodshed alone," came his reply, his gaze moving aside. "Dancing at the strings of... otherworldly puppeteers. I was quick to cut my ties to it, but I only mired myself further below its surface..."

But to discuss that at length would take them until the next morning; instead, he cut himself off with a sigh as they approached a bench, and he wearily dropped into sitting.

"...But it's a pale plight beside yours, Freya. To imagine Odin's phantom blade culling not the flesh of a troop but an entire people..."

Even the barest recollection left Ramza's skin crawling and his spine quivering. How many times had he seen his own allies summon that esper's aid..?

"To stand so proud and defiant in such a grim shadow... you truly have strength beyond measure, Freya."

"I know that you would do everything in your power to right any wrongs you'd unknowingly done," Freya replied, her full confidence behind it as she put a hand on his shoulder, only removing it once he moved to sit.

She sat beside him, ready to listen to his story, but it seemed he would rather focus on her struggles and what he had seen, and she let her head fall when she realized what memory he'd received. The thought of it still weighed heavy upon her shoulders, and if she dwelt on it too long, it would pull her in like a void

The dragon knight shook her head, a somber look on her features as she replied.

"Had I true strength, I could have done something more to save my king and my people. But my efforts did nothing to slow Alexandria's plans to decimate both Burmecia and Clerya."

("There are things beyond the power of our changing...")

Gods, did it kill him to remember it. Just as it killed him to hear it, years ago. Yet perhaps he needed to hear it then... back when he still believed that he- that anyone could move mountains. That he, alone, could right the wrongs of the world itself on his own endeavor.

He wondered if Freya came to bear the weight of her world across her own back, as well.

"I fared no better, in the end," he spoke almost at a whisper as he peered out into the crowd. "I could forestall only the very worst of the war, and for all my labors I could not even save my family..."

Though she'd moved her hand off his shoulder, his hand soon fell upon hers in kind. He wished he could rouse her from her sorrow so easily, but... it wasn't his place. There was no room for platitudes or idle words of encouragement in what depths he could glimpse of it.

Yet... What familiar fathoms they were. And for her talk of failure, she stood too tall to be a woman broken.

"...Freya, I--"

By the Gods, it had a ridiculous feel even before the words had reached his lips. But when he finally returned his sight to Freya, he could not even care how he sounded in speaking it.

"...I know not when we will return, or what we bring to our homelands when we do. But I pray of you, carry this one thought back with you, if you can take naught else-"

"Do not give up."

In some ways she could imagine how Ramza must have felt to lose his family, as she had lost her people. They were both soldiers of a sort, ready to fight for their lands, and yet their respective wars seemed to only take things from them. It was a terrible fate, but she would take it on herself if only to keep it from another. She only wished she could do more than that.

But Ramza's encouraging words and his heartfelt sincerity managed to bring her out of her thoughts as tears began to sting her eyes, and she smiled before pulling him into another hug.

"I had no intention to," she reassured him. "And I pray that you shall follow your own words. You are too good a man to fall into despair."

How humbled he felt to say such a thing only to be pulled into her arms once more for it. For a moment, he even chastised himself all the more for it; Bah, that kind of sentimentality hardly suited him to begin with, especially in light of his deeds over the years.

But, though he would think it in so many words and phrases a dozen times in a scant few seconds, a mournful sigh left his chest, his own arms tightening around Freya's back as he blinked away the wetness gathering at the corners of his eyes.

Damn it all. In spite of his best efforts, for aught and all, he couldn't convince himself he was wrong.

It was only a few more seconds before he spoke. "...what was it you saw, Freya...?"

She remained silent for a few short moments, taking a breath and not yet letting go, though her grip wasn't tight enough that she'd prevent Ramza from pulling back should he want to.

"An argument with your brother, Zalbaag," she replied, and how miserable a conversation it was came through in her voice. "You told him your suspicions about the war, and he said you were not fit for your family's name."

Though she of course had sympathy for the pain he must have felt about it, she wouldn't attempt to say it in any way that wasn't clear. He deserved to know exactly what of his life she'd seen.

All he needed to hear was his older brother's name, and- in light of her earlier words-he knew there was only one conversation it could have been. No wonder she knew the murk of deceit that marinated that war... no wonder she offered her sympathies before.

With a last, deep breath of his own, his grip eased, and he drew back with a hesitant, lingering touch. He was far from starved for it in recent days, in his endeavors and business, but somehow, it felt entirely too soon to let go...

"...Such remembrances say enough on their own," he finally replied by the time he'd seated himself back upright and proper, though by his slumped shoulders he seemed spent all the same. "My name was ever a mantle of martial pride and leadership- and I, alone among my brothers, the deserter and heretic with bleeding heart." He gazed off into space. Into his own recollections, drifting ahead in time until the happiness among his brothers turned to bitterness... and then to memory alone.

But, as they took rein of his thoughts, his memory called forth his arrival at Saeng Seong. The first peace he'd found in years. Celebration, chilled battles, daring ventures. And crimson color beside him.

"...Thank you."

By the time he'd lifted his head back to meet her sight, his countenance- however weary- had taken the look of a small smile.

Her own hand remaining on Ramza's shoulder as she sat back, she listened to him reminisce in silence, unsure of what to say to comfort him. He had clearly gone through much that she wasn't aware of, and she feared that any words she'd find might only make him feel worse.

She shook her head at the thanks. "There's no need to thank me, Ramza. I am only trying to return the support and kind words you've given to me."

Perhaps that modesty was another fault shared between them... but it, much like compassion, was a virtue so often lacking in his own world. How often had even even said that much to a willing ear?

For now, though... perhaps he'd spoken enough. For now. Ramza sat upright, a sweep of his palm pushing his hair from before his eyes. He'd tell her she discredited herself, but...

"...Perhaps."

That would do for now. He wouldn't have heard it of himself, either, and he felt as though he'd set volumes upon Freya's shoulders already.

"I should tell you the rest another time," he spoke out over a moment's rumination. "And have us sit for drinks, if you'd like."

The idea of sharing a drink over their stories, of talking about them without the issue being forced through the sudden sharing of memories, sounded like a much better one than attempting to discuss it as they were. They could speak of it when they were more ready to share.

It wasn't as if Freya intended to keep secrets, but it wasn't something she enjoyed talking about so suddenly, and she imagined Ramza likely felt the same, if not more strongly.

"I would," she replied. "Merely let me know when you'd like to."

"Well now, you've been scarce."

The tone is light, teasing- not accusatory in the least. Cupid makes sure Ramza knows she's coming before giving him her customary greeting- which is to say, before she grabs him by the shoulders and leans up to peck first one cheek, then the other. That done, she settles next to him, dressed down for an earlier round of exercise, a bag with a few fruits and vegetables dangling from one arm. Nothing like a little bit of open-air shopping to get a girl's appetite going.

"Sorry I haven't been by. I've been trying to figure out how to organize all these birthday shenanigans..."

Logistics are so hard.

Of course he's still left a little bit on-edge in hearing her call him out, however gentle her tone or kind her intentions. Still, she did not seem surprised or disdainful at the sight of him; whatever Cupid must have learned, Ramza hoped, might not have been too telling. Or perhaps the Gods simply had a different eye for mortal affairs.

Because for the life of him, apart from the celebration itself, he could barely cipher out any meaning from what he saw of her life a few nights ago.

"You've no need for apologies," he eventually replied. "...but you'll pardon me offering my own."

"Old affairs," he continued after a little hesitation.

"Oh sweetie."

Cupid gives him a sympathetic look and slings an arm through his, turning in the direction he'd been headed and tugging him forward gently. It's obvious that she knows what he's worried about, but she isn't going to begin the conversation by jumping straight into things. She does have a modicum of sense, after all- even if she does act like a fairly average teenager most of the time.

"Walk with me."

And she starts making her way forward, pulling him toward a stall slowly.

"Do you want to learn something about Greeks today, Ramza?"

Soon pulled out of his brooding- quite literally- by Cupid's tugging, Ramza eventually stumbled back into his stride beside her as the two of them walked. It was polite and proper enough to ignore that point for now.

...But it wasn't going to leave his mind any time soon, and two days was long enough holding his tongue.

"I had learned much two nights ago," he said- a little sheepishly- but it became a laugh as he called the scene- the spectacle of celebration- to mind. "May I say that you're a festive lot?"

Cupid enjoys the fact that whatever memory he's gotten, he's coming away from it with a laugh- maybe a little bit of shared happiness. If she can do at least that much for him, then she's more than glad to.

"That we certainly can be. But we're a lot of other things too, you know."

She hates to ruin his good mood, but he'd seemed so solemn about what she might have learned, and if she was going to reassure him, then she was going to have to let him know she wasn't going to judge.

"For example, some of my family members used to have this really bad habit of turning mortals who displeased them into animals. Heck, sometimes they even did it to the ones they liked. That whole 'wrath of the gods' thing used to be pretty legitimate where we Greeks were involved."

She pauses at a stand to pick up a few fruits, weighing them carefully in her hands and looking at him askance.

"And while I can't say their actions were always justified, once in a while..." She pays for the fruits- a few deep red pomegranates- and tucks them into the bag on her arm. "You just have to turn someone into a stag or something, you know?"

She retakes his arm then, tilting her head and shrugging her shoulders.

"Point being, later on, they might have realized they overreacted. Or sometimes, they had wished there were another way to handle things. But... really, sometimes all they could do is what they had to in order to put things right."

Somehow, the more he heard of Cupid's ilk the further he grew distant from ever understanding their ways. A far cry from the dispassion and austerity of the ones that were said to watch over Ivalice.

The ones who had not fallen from grace, at least.

Nonetheless her point was clear enough, and- in spite of her humble and warm tone- he found himself averting his gaze as she spoke. "Odd to think that Gods would make the mistakes of men..."

Odd, perhaps. But, by their actions and temper he might have mistaken them for human in the memory he'd seen; and it was small comfort to know that even a divine eye could sometimes miss seeing a fairer path before its consequences.

But it was comfort nonetheless. And when he raised his head to address cupid once more, his voice was more in curiosity than shame.

"Pray tell, Cupid... what was it you saw?"

"If you've ever heard the phrase 'to err is human, to forgive, divine' it's probably because of just how often gods make mistakes. We have to learn not to hold things against each other- considering we live forever it makes things really difficult, you know?"

Honestly, the biggest mistake people can make about the gods is to think of them as remote and detached and inhuman. They were always causing so much trouble in the old days because of how much like mortals they could be, under the right circumstances.

His question makes her falter a moment, and her smile dims a bit before she responds quietly-

"I saw a situation that couldn't have ended any differently than it did... no matter how much you would have wanted it to. I'm sorry though. No one should have to do that to their own family."

There wasn't much doubt as to what 'situation' Cupid was talking about, and Ramza wilted a bit at the mere mention of it. However necessary that heave of his arm and slash of his blade might have been, he could barely see it for his own kin's blood on his hands.

"So you know..."

The Gods' forgiveness was a comforting thought to hold- certainly, in light of his deeds against his fellow man, let alone the Church- but self-forgiveness was another matter entirely, and a far more elusive one at that.

He slumped, albeit still upon his feet. "...I had hoped the title of 'kinslayer' would not come to haunt me here as well. I would not have expected a God's forgiveness to come of it..."

"Hey now, none of that."

She gives his arm a little shake, leaning into him in order to try and make him cheer up.

"Look, my family has a long and storied history of... less than stellar family relations. Trust me, what you did? It doesn't compare to some of the stuff that's gone down on Olympus."

Even if she really has no intention of bringing any of that up if she can at all help it. As much as she loves her family, the Old Days were really, really messed up.

"You had no choice in what you did, Ramza. That title will only follow you here if you let it, okay?"

He felt more than a little silly being spoken to like this, particularly from Cupid; in spite of her divinity, the whole talk had more the air of a lecture from his younger sister.

Just as much so as the touch and tug upon his arm. Nonetheless, it captured his attention and even brought a little ease to his heart... as well as brought his sight back to hers. Even if his smile hadn't returned yet, at least his scowl had waned slightly.

"I wish its memory could be cast off so easily. And now, with these dreams... the burden is not even mine alone."

Still, he had to at least try to heed her words. The wound had not been swift in closing, and she only sought to wash away the salting these recent happenings had given it. He sighed deeply, as though he could so easily exhale his sorrows.

"...But mayhap you're right... guilt is a yoke he would not have me tie."

It's one of the burdens of being a teenage goddess- everything she says, no matter how sensible, makes it seem like a lecture from someone much younger. People tend not to take to that too well.

She isn't bothered by it, most of the time.

"Memories are seldom easy to be rid of without magic-- and I doubt that's the kind of thing you'd really want to let go of. It's... part of who you are now."

Another squeeze of his arm with hers, and she steers him toward another vendor with a low, thoughtful hum.

"As far as other people knowing... anyone who knows you will know better than to think less of you for it, I think."

She smiles as he sighs, his words giving hope that she's helped, even if only a little. It's really all she wants, to help.

"Exactly. So... it might not be easy, but don't be too hard on yourself, alright?"

Given everything that had happened, and the way dreams tended to work in any case, Davesprite felt that a number of weird dreams was pretty much just to be expected. Except most of them, he usually had some idea of how his brain had cooked them up, and this he didn't. Didn't seem to belong to him, even if it seemed strikingly similar to some of his own memories. Except for who was involved.

The obvious thing to do would be to just ask Ramza when he saw him, only Davesprite wasn't sure how that kind of conversation was going to go at all. 'So I might've seen part of your history, my bad. Mind explaining what gets people transformed into floating skeletons in your world?' Yeah, sure. Great opener.

Still, when he spotted Ramza in the market place, he didn't turn and go the other way like he'd half-meant to. Obviously having a cat around had done nothing for stifling his curiosity gland. "Hey," he called, raising a hand. "How're the goods looking today?"

It had gotten to the point where Ramza not only found Davesprite's appearance less than unusual, but he was growing accustomed to his ways of speaking as well. But, even so, for all the oddities and curiosities he had seen since his arrival, only in his dreams had he seen other such brightly-colored, almost inscrutable strangeness.

And, even as soon as he'd awoken, he knew those dreams were not his own. The rightful owner was easy enough to guess; the bizarre happenings and meanings, on the other hand, he was hopeless to cipher out.

Even with Davesprite right in front of him, Ramza hardly knew where to begin. But a greeting would do for now.

"I will keep," he replied as he approached. "Though I... hope I haven't troubled you, either."

It wasn't exactly subtle, but the sooner they could acknowledge the elephant in the room, the better.

Honestly the best thing to do, considering Davesprite'd sooner skirt around the subject as long as possible left to his own devices.

"Troubled? Naw." Even if he wanted to shake out his wings and get rid of the feeling that someone was poking where they shouldn't, since Ramza clearly wasn't referring to just being around Davesprite. And if Davesprite didn't know what had brought the dream on, he figured it was pretty unlikely that Ramza had any more of an idea. "I've been around, watched some calamari try interpretive dance, got into whole piles of messes at the same time, that barely even registered." He's seen some shit, man. Even if he wasn't quite that jaded, taking a breath and letting it out before he spoke again. "Guessing you got a look at some of that, though."

For his delivery as much as his style of speech, Ramza sometimes-- often times had difficulty ciphering out which of Davesprite's tales were humorous yarns and which he was meant to take to heart. For the strangeness of the world he'd seen in those dreams- however little of it he had glimpsed- he wouldn't be writing off the notion of fanciful performing squid.

He wished he'd seen something so whimsical, anyway. He shook his head in reply.

"Naught of the sort, though words fail me in speaking what I saw."

Still, he'd try; and as he peered off aside- more into space and nothing than at anything in Saeng Seong or the world- the image had stuck with him surprisingly well.

"...Some manner of black knight, twisted with power; and the fear in the air as bestial shape and divine might overtook him..."

Well, there are some whimsical squid around. They're just not the ones he was talking about, so that wouldn't have been a huge improvement on the whole.

Davesprite still, feathers beginning to fluff up after a moment, wings shifting up. "…Jack Noir," he said. A phantom pain twinged in his wing, and he pulled them back in tightly, talking to fill up the space and ignore the feelings the memory brought back. "Wow. Talk about shitty memories, that's not even near the top of the heap. Must've done a whole lotta digging for that one. Don't think he was even a knight, man, knight would've had more of a concept of fair play if anything in there did, probably not, or half of all the shit that happened wouldn't have gone down in the first place. Like him getting the power."

"An enemy of yours, I presume," he spoke back with an attentive nod; though his gaze was still distant and unfocused, as though in the blurred shapes of passerby he hoped to recall the rest of the memory's details. But a few words swiftly pulled Ramza from his recollections and his gaze focused back on Davesprite's shades.

Knights. Fair play. It'd have brought a bitter laugh were it not for the scowl. Well... at least Davesprite probably didn't see those horrid moments of his. His voice nearly sounded defeated when the words left him, a hard-learned and wearying lesson from his own life.

"Don't mistake title for honor."

It was a few seconds' pause before he spoke again. His own rumination was well enough, but another set of eyes upon it left him uneasy. "...You saw a remembrance of mine, did you not...?"

"Final boss and all that jazz, yeah." And just generally a huge pain to fight. Or get utterly defeated by, but he doesn't intend to go back their.

Davesprite snorted at that, lips twitching, and looked down for a moment. "Nah. hard lesson to forget once it gets all ballsed up." The knights on Skaia's battlefield probably did whatever it was they were supposed to do, but when the whole thing was rigged, either way… what did that matter, in the end?

He leaped on the change of subject with a glee only equal to the discovery of a fresh chip packet when he'd thought they were all out. "Oh, yeah! Crazy setting, looking kinda like someone zombified a ship or something. Hella weird captain, if that's what she was, had that whole Pirates thing going on except without the moonlight, just because she could. Still freaky as."

"The High Seraph..."

'Final boss' wasn't a bad term for her either, come to think of it... the last of the challenges he had faced in his world, as well as the one who masterminded and commanded the demons he had faced.

"...She was the last, wretched sight I glimpsed in Ivalice before I was sent here. She and my sister..."

A sister who never quite left his mind, for that matter, and whom he hoped against hope he would find well upon his return. Or-- better yet-- that she should come here and find some peace and safety. After all- all politics aside- he wasn't even certain if there was any life left within them to live, back in Ivalice.

"If only she had revealed herself sooner. We'd run afoul far too many of such fiends in human guise."

Davesprite nodded, flicking his wings, disquieted. "Pretty shitty thing to have for your last sight of home. You think she's okay?" There didn't seem like there was any way of knowing, not from what he'd seen.

"Ain't that always the way, though. They know they're sure as hell not going to get results if they just let people know what's their deal from the get-go. Can't imagine what it'd be like if the place was riddled with things like that." He hesitated for a moment, then nodded and let his lips quirk up. "Pretty impressive you managed to get up to the leader, though."

And there, at last, came the reminder of the final, miserable mystery from his homeworld. His mood sunk, and with it, so did his expression and his shoulders.

"...I do not know. I know not even if I will be alive upon my return."

Davesprite's second statement barely even registered, and it was a long, pensive pause before Ramza finally addressed it. "You may idly speak such words, but I'm not without my doubts... between the stones in the snow fiends and the transformation talismans, I wonder if those same trouble lie waiting to greet me here."

He couldn't help fluffing up a bit at Ramza's reaction, his own shoulders rising- but it wasn't as though he could've known, was it? (But he could have made an educated guess, considering the ship looked more like a ghost ship than anything else. Not something inspiring thoughts of return journeys.)

"Can't be," he said after a few moments, "that'd be the shittiest end to that tale."

He frowned, folding his arms across his chest. "Doesn't seem like such a long shot," he acknowledged, after a few moments. "I doubt we're about to be left to fend for ourselves without any help here, though."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

To look back upon it

no subject

no subject

depressed rain icons hell yeah

Freya? Rain? How unorthodox

i know right. what a shocker

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject