Why, I'm helping to take down the seedy underbelly that rots at the center of Neo-Tokyo. Didn't you know? [ It's also.
It's Silco. There is no way on any planet that he wasn't planning to use this for himself. He literally just admitted to having drugs handy. ]
See, this is why you and I understand each other. That is precisely why I didn't share it. [ Set knew, of course, but the small Canopic Jars in his own room were a testament to why Silco and Set knew about Jinx and Anubis, respectively. They had made a promise, after all, to save each others' children at the end of it. Silco had done everything to save her, down to coordinating her survival even if he failed. ]
I had her soul with me, on my person. The one time I didn't, I nearly lost her to chance.
Aren't you also the seedy underbelly? Just a different one.
[Like.]
[Let's be real.]
[They understand each other. Yes, they do. Though he wonders what Silco would have to think about the man who barely moved a muscle after the tragedy at the orphanage, who wallowed in his own stagnation and sorrow. He would probably pull him by the ear and tell him he was a failure. In a way, he was. He could've done more. He should've done more.]
[And now, all that's left, is...a young lady, and a gem.]
[ The smile in his voice says it all, doesn't it? Of course he is. That's why he'll need his help. ]
Ah... though.
[ He may have, but he may not have. He'd been powerless to stop his daughter from nearly dying too. Too busy bullying chembarons and choking them with the gray to even bother knowing what she was up to, while she'd dealt with enforcers and who knew what else?
She'd been dying in his arms, and he had been desperate. Would Vergilius think less of him, for desperately fighting to end every world out there because none of them would have his daughter in them? Or the fact that apparently, she lives but for the injections of said drug he'd just offered him? ]
It was in a gemstone. Was. Now, I suppose, it is where it belongs.
[ He still keeps it, though. The gemstone. In his room, where it stays safe. ]
[He's silent for a good long, while. A gemstone. It really can't be. It feels like a slap of fate. A joke of coincidence. He can't find the words to say anything, just yet, but when he does, he sounds hoarse.]
...A child I knew was turned...into a gem. [It feels like he's speaking from a million miles away, lost in time.] At least you...have her back.
[ In the quiet silence, he stepped over to his bedside, to pick up that gem that had meant everything a world away. In Kenos, Jinx had been everything. His only guiding star, the only thing he knew was real. Powers, destruction, none of it mattered. Some believed their worlds had still been out there, but Silco's whole world was right in his hand. Had been in his hand. Now it was inert, and cold. Not even body-temperature like it had been. It still glows, of course, like there was still a spark of life in it.
Isn't it funny? That things seem so cyclical? Day in, and day out? It's always around, and around, and around. ]
They are so fragile, like this. Easy to destroy. [ A soft scoff. ] Was yours safe? Jinx never was like this. I had to flay my very soul to protect her, and it wasn't ever enough.
Now, I don't even truly have her back. She's still β
[ In danger? Manic? Struggling with a sister they'd both thought was gone; a specter that cast an even larger shadow. ]
I don't know if I do.
[ He doesn't even know that he really won't. But maudlin honesty feels appropriate now. It's with a heavy sigh β it's too honest, too dangerous β that he tries to divert. ]
[He handed that young man his sword. He hoped to find him again, and the young man would return his sword back to him. But instead, he came upon that room, and that sword was on the ground.]
[And instead of a young man, there was a gem. A gem called-]
Garnet. [He starts, stops.] That was his name. Many of the children were...named after jewels. And fate seems to like its little jokes.
[The jewel, as blood-red as his eyes, shattered in but a moment. Silco's pain, that desperation, echoes with his.]
I was told there...is a chance to return him back. I entered a contract for it. [Again, feeling distant, though the pain feels just as real as it did so long ago.] I can only...hope. I can only hope.
Garnet. Did you name them? [ there's something about naming them after something precious, but he understood the power of names, of what they meant. Just as he'd let Jinx become herself -- used the derogatory name to twist it to power -- a kid named Garnet... Must have felt... Special? Or like he was one of many?
Fate always seemed to intervene. Make something worthwhile, and precious, only to smatch it away. How many times had that happened? For either of them?]
I'm apparently not the only fool who contracted for their children.
[ Well. Silco's odd desperation had warped him, made it all bleed together. Had it been that, or had it been the hands around his neck, choking the life out of him yet again? ]
What was the price? What do you have to give up, for them to live again?
No, I...there were caretakers at the orphanage. I handed them off to them.
[He tried to not be in their lives, but...]
[Failed. He failed at that. He brought groceries. He played games. He read them stories. They looked up to him. And no matter what he did, he couldn't stay away.]
Children are...everything. The light, the roots, to...bring change to a wretched, unforgiving world. [But that world ate them alive. In the end, that world couldn't exist anymore.] The price was...subservience. It's complicated. But I am made to act as a guide, now, for a certain Company. I cannot act as I wish to.
[ Handing them off? Maybe that's why he had so many, but Silco couldn't imagine not raising his daughter. She had been his, after... everything that had happened. Every loss had led him to her. Everything. ]
Are you forced to continue your work in their name here?
[ He would hate it. Working for someone else, subservience. Though...
I tried not to be. I was the cause of their misfortune, after all.
[The key word is "tried". In the end, he failed. He always fails. In the end, a monster can have a bleeding heart that still aches with guilt.]
Mm. Well, they aren't breathing down my necks. I suppose I still have some insights to share with my subordinates in my role as guide. [But....] ...I'm...glad you understand.
You were the cause? Because of what happened? Or before...
[ before the great gem-ening? Was he truly the cause? Did he blame himself? Did he know that even in this, Silco understood him? ]
Vergilius, of everything, I do understand that. A contract? To get them back? [ He had done just that. More than just the one with Sebastian, really. Over and over, and over. He would do it as many times as he had to. ] There is no choice, is there?
[A long, long pause. And then, he recites his truth dully. His terrible truth.]
In the line of my work, I have killed many people. Those people were not simply...standalone evildoers. Many had families. Some...left behind children.
[...]
I, who sliced their parent's throats, ripped them away whatever life they had, brought them to the orphanage and gave them my care. As if that could...make up for anything. As if that could repay a lifetime of sin.
[And now, another haggard sigh, but its pained - this is his bleeding heart, exposed, the very thing that drowns in its own misery. Why did he, a killer, have this much regret? This much guilt? He shouldn't. And yet he does.]
In the end...there is no choice. I will do what has to be done. Come hell, or high water.
Silco shakes a little bit on his end, because it's almost funny. It's almost painfully, heinously funny. Of all the people, of all the things to hear, it's this? ]
There is no such thing as a standalone evildoer, neither is there such a thing as a true saint. If you hadn't done it, would someone else have? Would your hand be the only one on the blade, or was yours the better option? If not for the parents, then for their children? Did they resent you for it? It sounds like they did not.
[ He sees his guilt for what it is. (Silco no...) It nestles in his heart, a killer's heart, and it makes him feel bad for doing what was necessary. How much does he punish himself for this? How much should he punish himself for it? What good was guilt in a cruel world that took no matter who twisted the blade?
And does he know? Does he know just how similar this is? That... ]
Have I told you how she became my daughter? [ The soft chuff of his laugh is bitter. This is not a funny matter, but... If he didn't laugh, what was there left? ] It's soaked in as much blood as each of yours.
...They didn't know. To them, I was simply...me. They should've known.
[And yet he, coward, kept on his little precious life with them even as his own internal axe constantly asked for his own head for it. In one of those visions of another version of their world he had back then, one of those "dots", Lapis had stabbed him in the back. And he had welcomed it.]
[Silco laughs, and it comes from a bitter, sunken place. He draws towards it instinctively, so wondering of more similarities.]
[Its like Silco is fated to slot with him like a puzzle piece no matter what.]
[ It's a bit too... direct, perhaps. Though he knew that children were... irrational little creatures as a whole. (Silco, your daughter is Jinx.) How much did he feel guilt for something that was inevitable? Could he teach him to stop this? To learn to love the spark of violence that lurks in the hearts of all men? Could he help him slough it off, to be the monster that he should be? He wants to.
More than that, he wants to tell him this secret, something so few knew about β a deep, sharp little thing. That thing under his skin, the secret drowned at the bottom of the river β would he listen? Would he hate him for it like he had been before? Could he be understood? Could there be a beast as cruel as he was? That could understand him, his desperate clawing?
Does he want to be?
He opens his mouth, to continue. His eyes snap to the shadows.
He cannot hear anything in his rooms. The shadows are too long. They are too dark. He could turn on his lights, but then the shadows will be harder to find. Conceal what's still there. What if he's still here? He didn't doubt the power of β ]
[Would it? Could it? Maybe it's just his selfish wish. His own crucifixion that he deserves, by their hands. The children would realize, and would spit on him, act in revenge. He wouldn't move a muscle. A fitting end for him, at the hands of those lives he ruined.]
...I don't know.
[He doesn't know. A part of him has been too afraid to say otherwise. Selfish, so selfish. He's his own judge, jury, and executioner, but he has yet to give himself a proper sentence.]
[Silco falls silent on the other end. He blinks, waiting for a reply, and-]
[A knock.]
[He stands to answer the door, and there he is. The man himself.]
Hah? [Yeah, this is a bit unexpected.] Silco. What are you doing here?
[ He's just a bit off, in the doorway. Small, without the large coat, and more casual clothes. A little too harried, his eyes look both directions, like he's trying to make sure that he isn't seen in the hallway, or maybe looking for danger. It's hard to say, it's so quick.
He gestured down the hallway. ]
Doesn't it feel stupid having a conversation when you're just a few doors down?
[ In a room where he's sure the demon is still infesting. Trying to find something important. He could do it, he could watch. Silco knew he had the tricks up his sleeve, the little ways he can hear and see everything. He knew where Silco stayed, now, and he knew he wouldn't capitulate. He had his life, but that didn't mean that he was safe.
[He is off. This feels wrong from the get-go - Silco always carried himself with a certainty even in the face of larger threats. Here, he's smaller, more aware of himself in a strange way. No, this feels different than a man simply led into bittersweet reminiscence. There's something restless, here, and Vergilius actually moves his head forward to cast his gaze down the hallway, as if expecting some shadow to be tacked onto the wall.]
....Mm.
[And now, he's looking back at the man, eyebrows twisting down with a confused frown.]
It may be stupid, yes. [A beat.] What's wrong, Silco?
[ He does not know fear anymore β he does not fear anything β but he does not dare utter something that could be used against him right now where he thinks there could be a...remnant of the demon left. He'd encompassed his room, he'd swallowed all the light, was it so foolish to think that he would leave something behind, to make sure he held to the letter of a spoken-contract?
He straightened and looked him in the eye. A tip of his head, a twitch of his lips. Fear could only do so much to stifle Silco. ]
[Maybe he didn't see an actual shadow, but looks like he wasn't far off on his guess. Shadows may listen. Whatever happened with Sebastian somehow pierced to his core. He has no idea what the butler is, but...]
[This is a man who was pushed to a corner if he ever saw one.]
[He sighs as if reluctant, but he is moving back at the same time, to give the man space to move.]
....Fine. No shadows here.
[When he does enter, he will find....a rather unimpressive room. Bluntly normal, with disheveled sheets, scattered belongings. Nothing personal here. A room lived in, but it isn't alive.]
You can take a seat.
[He gestures to the bed. He has a chair, but its as plain as it gets. Probably more comfortable for that first choice.]
[ It's... about as spartan as Silco's is, really. Minus the drama of the medications and drugs, his was no more personable than Silco's is. Though, he's been here longer, hasn't he?
Once the door is closed, he relaxed slightly, that cantankerous old arrogance suffusing back into him, like the spark of paranoia can be buried back underneath. It's more vulnerable than he'd like. He won't admit it, and certainly won't voice how truly powerless he is; the stark reminder doing more to harden it into his soul, when a world before, he'd thought he could do anything. He could. Now... well.
He sat. Though...
His eyes focused on him for a long moment. Maybe because he's thinking about how to start the conversation again; or maybe...
[He waits, patiently, for Silco to begin. He himself leans against the wall, arms folded, waiting. His gaze holds steady, red as anything.]
[That line brings no reaction. No horror, no shock, no disgust.]
And why would you do something like that?
[His tone is almost bordering on casual - after all, he himself just confessed to killing many before. Fathers, mothers, parents. All have ended by his hand.]
[One father by Silco's hand pales to it, by quantity alone.]
[ Well, he didn't expect that to shock him, frankly. Though he seemed to feel guilt for his own murders, he's suspected that the man understood that this was the way of things. That murders happened. In the undercity, after all, it was just. It was normal. Routine.
Nothing. ]
Why? [ There it was. He looked at him, that unblinking eye still boring into him.]
I planned it. I spent years orchestrating it so I could stab him with the knife I stole from him the day he gave me this. [ He tapped it, two fingers to the scar on his face, below the eye. ]
There's nothing more dangerous than someone who knows you best, after all. It's a lesson I had to learn, and one I was happy to teach in return.
[ As if the thought of Silco being close to anyone was likely. ]
I see. The sordid path of revenge. An eye for an eye.
[So, it seems Silco had a man to blame, and hunted that man to sate sweet vengeance. It makes sense. Silco was that type of man - he can see him tending to his grudges like pets, or plants in a garden. He wouldn't let them simply slide by.]
[He tilts his head, staring into that wide, unblinking eye.
Why did he give you that in the first place?
[What was the sin that catalyzed this whole chain reaction to occur?]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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It's Silco. There is no way on any planet that he wasn't planning to use this for himself. He literally just admitted to having drugs handy. ]
See, this is why you and I understand each other. That is precisely why I didn't share it. [ Set knew, of course, but the small Canopic Jars in his own room were a testament to why Silco and Set knew about Jinx and Anubis, respectively. They had made a promise, after all, to save each others' children at the end of it. Silco had done everything to save her, down to coordinating her survival even if he failed. ]
I had her soul with me, on my person. The one time I didn't, I nearly lost her to chance.
[ On the day he'd killed a god. ]
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[Like.]
[Let's be real.]
[They understand each other. Yes, they do. Though he wonders what Silco would have to think about the man who barely moved a muscle after the tragedy at the orphanage, who wallowed in his own stagnation and sorrow. He would probably pull him by the ear and tell him he was a failure. In a way, he was. He could've done more. He should've done more.]
[And now, all that's left, is...a young lady, and a gem.]
Her soul? Where did it go?
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[ The smile in his voice says it all, doesn't it? Of course he is. That's why he'll need his help. ]
Ah... though.
[ He may have, but he may not have. He'd been powerless to stop his daughter from nearly dying too. Too busy bullying chembarons and choking them with the gray to even bother knowing what she was up to, while she'd dealt with enforcers and who knew what else?
She'd been dying in his arms, and he had been desperate. Would Vergilius think less of him, for desperately fighting to end every world out there because none of them would have his daughter in them? Or the fact that apparently, she lives but for the injections of said drug he'd just offered him? ]
It was in a gemstone. Was. Now, I suppose, it is where it belongs.
[ He still keeps it, though. The gemstone. In his room, where it stays safe. ]
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[He's silent for a good long, while. A gemstone. It really can't be. It feels like a slap of fate. A joke of coincidence. He can't find the words to say anything, just yet, but when he does, he sounds hoarse.]
...A child I knew was turned...into a gem. [It feels like he's speaking from a million miles away, lost in time.] At least you...have her back.
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Isn't it funny? That things seem so cyclical? Day in, and day out? It's always around, and around, and around. ]
They are so fragile, like this. Easy to destroy. [ A soft scoff. ] Was yours safe? Jinx never was like this. I had to flay my very soul to protect her, and it wasn't ever enough.
Now, I don't even truly have her back. She's still β
[ In danger? Manic? Struggling with a sister they'd both thought was gone; a specter that cast an even larger shadow. ]
I don't know if I do.
[ He doesn't even know that he really won't. But maudlin honesty feels appropriate now. It's with a heavy sigh β it's too honest, too dangerous β that he tries to divert. ]
Do you have a chance for yours?
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[Was yours safe?]
[He handed that young man his sword. He hoped to find him again, and the young man would return his sword back to him. But instead, he came upon that room, and that sword was on the ground.]
[And instead of a young man, there was a gem. A gem called-]
Garnet. [He starts, stops.] That was his name. Many of the children were...named after jewels. And fate seems to like its little jokes.
[The jewel, as blood-red as his eyes, shattered in but a moment. Silco's pain, that desperation, echoes with his.]
I was told there...is a chance to return him back. I entered a contract for it. [Again, feeling distant, though the pain feels just as real as it did so long ago.] I can only...hope. I can only hope.
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Fate always seemed to intervene. Make something worthwhile, and precious, only to smatch it away. How many times had that happened? For either of them?]
I'm apparently not the only fool who contracted for their children.
[ Well. Silco's odd desperation had warped him, made it all bleed together. Had it been that, or had it been the hands around his neck, choking the life out of him yet again? ]
What was the price? What do you have to give up, for them to live again?
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[He tried to not be in their lives, but...]
[Failed. He failed at that. He brought groceries. He played games. He read them stories. They looked up to him. And no matter what he did, he couldn't stay away.]
Children are...everything. The light, the roots, to...bring change to a wretched, unforgiving world. [But that world ate them alive. In the end, that world couldn't exist anymore.] The price was...subservience. It's complicated. But I am made to act as a guide, now, for a certain Company. I cannot act as I wish to.
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[ Handing them off? Maybe that's why he had so many, but Silco couldn't imagine not raising his daughter. She had been his, after... everything that had happened. Every loss had led him to her. Everything. ]
Are you forced to continue your work in their name here?
[ He would hate it. Working for someone else, subservience. Though...
If it was required? ]
I would do the same if I had to.
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[The key word is "tried". In the end, he failed. He always fails. In the end, a monster can have a bleeding heart that still aches with guilt.]
Mm. Well, they aren't breathing down my necks. I suppose I still have some insights to share with my subordinates in my role as guide. [But....] ...I'm...glad you understand.
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[ before the great gem-ening? Was he truly the cause? Did he blame himself? Did he know that even in this, Silco understood him? ]
Vergilius, of everything, I do understand that. A contract? To get them back? [ He had done just that. More than just the one with Sebastian, really. Over and over, and over. He would do it as many times as he had to. ] There is no choice, is there?
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[A long, long pause. And then, he recites his truth dully. His terrible truth.]
In the line of my work, I have killed many people. Those people were not simply...standalone evildoers. Many had families. Some...left behind children.
[...]
I, who sliced their parent's throats, ripped them away whatever life they had, brought them to the orphanage and gave them my care. As if that could...make up for anything. As if that could repay a lifetime of sin.
[And now, another haggard sigh, but its pained - this is his bleeding heart, exposed, the very thing that drowns in its own misery. Why did he, a killer, have this much regret? This much guilt? He shouldn't. And yet he does.]
In the end...there is no choice. I will do what has to be done. Come hell, or high water.
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Silco shakes a little bit on his end, because it's almost funny. It's almost painfully, heinously funny. Of all the people, of all the things to hear, it's this? ]
There is no such thing as a standalone evildoer, neither is there such a thing as a true saint. If you hadn't done it, would someone else have? Would your hand be the only one on the blade, or was yours the better option? If not for the parents, then for their children? Did they resent you for it? It sounds like they did not.
[ He sees his guilt for what it is. (Silco no...) It nestles in his heart, a killer's heart, and it makes him feel bad for doing what was necessary. How much does he punish himself for this? How much should he punish himself for it? What good was guilt in a cruel world that took no matter who twisted the blade?
And does he know? Does he know just how similar this is? That... ]
Have I told you how she became my daughter? [ The soft chuff of his laugh is bitter. This is not a funny matter, but... If he didn't laugh, what was there left? ] It's soaked in as much blood as each of yours.
no subject
[And yet he, coward, kept on his little precious life with them even as his own internal axe constantly asked for his own head for it. In one of those visions of another version of their world he had back then, one of those "dots", Lapis had stabbed him in the back. And he had welcomed it.]
[Silco laughs, and it comes from a bitter, sunken place. He draws towards it instinctively, so wondering of more similarities.]
[Its like Silco is fated to slot with him like a puzzle piece no matter what.]
No. You didn't.
1/2
[ It's a bit too... direct, perhaps. Though he knew that children were... irrational little creatures as a whole. (Silco, your daughter is Jinx.) How much did he feel guilt for something that was inevitable? Could he teach him to stop this? To learn to love the spark of violence that lurks in the hearts of all men? Could he help him slough it off, to be the monster that he should be? He wants to.
More than that, he wants to tell him this secret, something so few knew about β a deep, sharp little thing. That thing under his skin, the secret drowned at the bottom of the river β would he listen? Would he hate him for it like he had been before? Could he be understood? Could there be a beast as cruel as he was? That could understand him, his desperate clawing?
Does he want to be?
He opens his mouth, to continue. His eyes snap to the shadows.
He cannot hear anything in his rooms. The shadows are too long. They are too dark. He could turn on his lights, but then the shadows will be harder to find. Conceal what's still there. What if he's still here? He didn't doubt the power of β ]
Hm. This isn't...
2/2
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...I don't know.
[He doesn't know. A part of him has been too afraid to say otherwise. Selfish, so selfish. He's his own judge, jury, and executioner, but he has yet to give himself a proper sentence.]
[Silco falls silent on the other end. He blinks, waiting for a reply, and-]
[A knock.]
[He stands to answer the door, and there he is. The man himself.]
Hah? [Yeah, this is a bit unexpected.] Silco. What are you doing here?
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He gestured down the hallway. ]
Doesn't it feel stupid having a conversation when you're just a few doors down?
[ In a room where he's sure the demon is still infesting. Trying to find something important. He could do it, he could watch. Silco knew he had the tricks up his sleeve, the little ways he can hear and see everything. He knew where Silco stayed, now, and he knew he wouldn't capitulate. He had his life, but that didn't mean that he was safe.
He knew better. ]
Especially if we're talking about...
[ Their kids. ]
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....Mm.
[And now, he's looking back at the man, eyebrows twisting down with a confused frown.]
It may be stupid, yes. [A beat.] What's wrong, Silco?
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Perhaps this was stupid. (It was.) Finally: ]
I don't trust that the shadows are not listening.
[ He does not know fear anymore β he does not fear anything β but he does not dare utter something that could be used against him right now where he thinks there could be a...remnant of the demon left. He'd encompassed his room, he'd swallowed all the light, was it so foolish to think that he would leave something behind, to make sure he held to the letter of a spoken-contract?
He straightened and looked him in the eye. A tip of his head, a twitch of his lips. Fear could only do so much to stifle Silco. ]
Are you going to let me in, or not?
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[Maybe he didn't see an actual shadow, but looks like he wasn't far off on his guess. Shadows may listen. Whatever happened with Sebastian somehow pierced to his core. He has no idea what the butler is, but...]
[This is a man who was pushed to a corner if he ever saw one.]
[He sighs as if reluctant, but he is moving back at the same time, to give the man space to move.]
....Fine. No shadows here.
[When he does enter, he will find....a rather unimpressive room. Bluntly normal, with disheveled sheets, scattered belongings. Nothing personal here. A room lived in, but it isn't alive.]
You can take a seat.
[He gestures to the bed. He has a chair, but its as plain as it gets. Probably more comfortable for that first choice.]
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Once the door is closed, he relaxed slightly, that cantankerous old arrogance suffusing back into him, like the spark of paranoia can be buried back underneath. It's more vulnerable than he'd like. He won't admit it, and certainly won't voice how truly powerless he is; the stark reminder doing more to harden it into his soul, when a world before, he'd thought he could do anything. He could. Now... well.
He sat. Though...
His eyes focused on him for a long moment. Maybe because he's thinking about how to start the conversation again; or maybe...
Finally: ]
I killed him, you know. Her father.
[ The opening line to that horrible tale. ]
no subject
[That line brings no reaction. No horror, no shock, no disgust.]
And why would you do something like that?
[His tone is almost bordering on casual - after all, he himself just confessed to killing many before. Fathers, mothers, parents. All have ended by his hand.]
[One father by Silco's hand pales to it, by quantity alone.]
no subject
Nothing. ]
Why? [ There it was. He looked at him, that unblinking eye still boring into him.]
I planned it. I spent years orchestrating it so I could stab him with the knife I stole from him the day he gave me this. [ He tapped it, two fingers to the scar on his face, below the eye. ]
There's nothing more dangerous than someone who knows you best, after all. It's a lesson I had to learn, and one I was happy to teach in return.
[ As if the thought of Silco being close to anyone was likely. ]
no subject
[So, it seems Silco had a man to blame, and hunted that man to sate sweet vengeance. It makes sense. Silco was that type of man - he can see him tending to his grudges like pets, or plants in a garden. He wouldn't let them simply slide by.]
[He tilts his head, staring into that wide, unblinking eye.
Why did he give you that in the first place?
[What was the sin that catalyzed this whole chain reaction to occur?]
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(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
normal...........................
so Normal
(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)
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(no subject)
(no subject)
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(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
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(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)
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(no subject)
(no subject)
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(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
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(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
π
(no subject)