Gregor Vorbarra (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
vorbarra) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenacelogs2016-03-27 10:10 am
vorbarra) wrote in maskormenacelogs2016-03-27 10:10 am
Entry tags:
Pull point plot!
WHO: Vorsoaps family and others.
WHERE: Probably mostly DC#7, but all over.
WHEN: March 27 - April 6
WHAT: Ageswap shenanigans ahoy.
WARNINGS: None, actually, except for rampant spoilers for the whole series, most likely, so if you care about that sort of thing, be warned!
WHERE: Probably mostly DC#7, but all over.
WHEN: March 27 - April 6
WHAT: Ageswap shenanigans ahoy.
WARNINGS: None, actually, except for rampant spoilers for the whole series, most likely, so if you care about that sort of thing, be warned!
ARAL
Fear chokes him in a swift rush. There's really only one explanation-- that he's been kidnapped and drugged-- and Gregor has to take a few long moments huddled on his bed calming his breathing. He has no time to panic and he knows that very well, because he has been drilled over and over since he was five on what to do in situations like this, and so he already knows the exact correct response.
Which is a huge relief. His Lord Regent has started to ask him things lately without telling him what the right answer was afterward, and it's been compressing Gregor tighter and tighter until he feels squeezed into a box... But no, right now, all he has to do is tentatively stand, and press his ear to the door for noise; but he hears nothing after a long full minute of this, heart pounding and rattling in his chest, and eventually he draws away and carefully pokes about the room.
Finding the Vorbarra suit in the closet, all the wrong size -- everything is the wrong size -- makes the fear twist over into a closer kind of sickness, dread at wondering who has taken him, why they've put him here, what their plot is...
Next is the comconsole. Gregor tentatively boots it up (and it's weird technology, antiquated and slow) but to his surprise it has no password for access, and when he immediately searches for a way to contact, with no real hope for it to have 'net accessibility, he's surprised even further. Hope lurches in his throat. He doesn't even have to scroll down the list of contacts, because Aral Vorkosigan is alphabetically first, and he freezes, staring at it.
Dare he take the chance? He has to. Maybe this isn't a kidnap, maybe it's some bizarre new form of training... Maybe he's being tested on his response right now and if he doesn't follow protocol he's going to get that quiet, disappointed look that always makes Gregor feel like he'd rather quietly die than see it again. So he just does as he's always been told and establishes contact with someone trusted absolutely; he spends a few needless seconds composing himself, steadying his breathing again, opening and closing his eyes a few times until he can be sure his face is wiped clean and he is showing nothing as he triggers the vidcall.
Of course, Gregor at fourteen years old does not have nearly the emotional or facial control of even Gregor at twenty-five. The tightness around his eyes is unmistakable and his arms are pulled in tight to his body; his voice is a hush when he speaks. ]
Sir, I think I've been drugged and kidnapped, [ he reports softly, trying not to be overheard. ] I haven't evaluated my surroundings yet for where I am, but I can do that next.
no subject
Mentally though, it felt like a lifetime. Confident, secure in standing with three enormous conflicts behind him, a more favorable political party mix in the Councel and a plan for the next ten years firmly in place and executing with each careful move... And his son... his son, both his none too secret pride and the source of a near half of his new grey hairs at the same time.
But this room... this kitchen wasn't his. No where near the bustle and the worn austere decorations of the Vorkosigan House, or the antiquated wealth of the Residence. In that confusion, it was hard to PLACE where he was, exactly.. but the familiarity was so keen and sharp, even if the memory eluded him. He wasn't where he was moments ago. He remembered THAT feeling, mixed with a hazy, almost daydream like vision of his emperor, a sane and stable man, if injured and cautious. His son, grown, competent and accomplished... they were almost like a self congratulatory fever dream. He hardly dared consider them truth.
And then the comm unit (familiar and yet still so clumsy turning it on), reveals Gregor's face, suffused with all of the tells of fear and tension. It was not the face he remembered, sitting so close to Cordelia like a lifeline, hunched over his reader while she explained the two theaters of Shakespeare... nor the vague vision of the composed, solemn and occasionally puckishly needling adult.]
Gregor. [At that, he straightened, composure settling over those hints of bewilderment. As if they were discussing military maneuvers and not a life threatening situation, he gives orders in the tone of commentary.] Physical effects in order of prominence. [To suss out chemical restraints.] And give me a look around your room, if you can.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
MILES AND ANYONE
He doesn't take much time in bounding down the stairs at full tilt, saving himself from a fall only at the last minute by grabbing onto the railing. And then he's going all around the house, refamiliarizing himself with the things he remembers, making up stories about the rest ... and generally being underfoot. Literally. In fact, one of the first things he does is set himself up in front of the door like a tiny guard, shouldering a broom that's easily twice his height. Just in case he, Miles Vorkosigan, has to defend the house from any intruders. (Like he's going to - Miles was small before, but he is utterly tiny as a kid. Not much over three feet or forty pounds, skinny and fragile in the extreme.) ]
Don't worry, I know xactly what's happening. [ He's so proud of remembering. ] We're all superheroes now.
no subject
That illusion of normality goes right out the window as her scans pick up a small form moving rapidly towards her armored form. ] What the hell--?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
no subject
He doesn't think he, himself, has ever felt this excited in his life. And of course there's no question of who it is.
So when he finally comes across Miles, he's expecting to see him, and he smiles helplessly at the sight-- because of everything else, at least Miles is exactly the same, the age he should be and as irrepressible as he should be. ]
Are we? [ he muses, slipping out into the main hallway and coming up to him, remarkably unself-conscious now that he's out from under Aral's direct line of sight. ] I think that must be just you. I'm not superhero material.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
no subject
And that's why Kitty Jones - tall for her age and strong as anything - comes up behind one of those shitty boys and kicks him hard in the back of the knee so that he falls and then turns and punches the other one right in the jaw and snarls at both of them: ]
Shut up, you shits, or I'll give you another one three times as hard!
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
no subject
He doesn't interrupt the game, and wouldn't dare dissuade him from his relatively safe post... but he is certainly going to remain close. Much like at those coveted lunch hours, his father sits down on the floor, with all of the air of someone settling down as if he damn well belonged there. At eye level, wrists on his knees.]
Superheroes? What kind have you settled on?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
no subject
Which...Shit. He doesn't even know what to do with that recognition. Does he take advantage of this situation? Kill him? The Porter's acting weird, maybe Miles wouldn't come back if he did, and the clone could just quietly claim that he'd been returned to his normal age, take over Miles' life here...and all the heaps of troubles he'd bring with him. No, thanks. Take him as leverage? Run the hell away from him...?
He's paralyzed enough by indecision that, in some failure of intellect, he pulls the car he's driving in next to Miles and just stops it and stares at him as he walks along the sidewalk. ]
(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)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
CORDELIA (GJ&RQ spoilers where noted)
Thankfully, she remembered the way home in a vague way one might recall a dream—God, this felt like ages ago. Familiar and foreign at the same time, she returns to DC#7 in a bemused state. It's only when she opens the door with the thin, cardboard boxes containing their food in hand that the bemusement vanishes, gawking at the mess throughout the living room and the loud children. ]
Good God, what natural disaster happened in here?
no subject
He brighten instantly when he sees her - and then stops. Wait. That's his mother, he's sure of it, but she's so much older than either of his memories. Hesitation marks his features and his voice. ]
Mother?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
GJ&RQ and Cryoburn spoilers gonna be here
He would know her voice in any form, at any age, lightened by youth, or made tremulous with deeply advanced age. Betans didn't change much as the decades wore on, not like the cuts time would take from him. He looks up sharply, the hair in the short, drifting curls arresting him far before any wrinkle or maturation.]
... Captain?
BOY HOWDY THERE BE SPOILERS
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
no subject
Tex ends up out of the house during Cordelia's initial return. There's always her own business to attend to and she wanted to make a quick call or two to check up on others if this plague of aging was hitting people she knew. But she's back later in the day, more to make sure the house hasn't burned down with less adults around to hold down the fort.
She doesn't bother knocking as she enters. The occupants may have changed, but her job seems to be remaining the same more-or-less which means she coming and going as she sees fit. It isn't until she catches sight of familiar red hair, cut short, that she pauses and stares. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
SPOILERS AHEAD
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
no subject
He supposes it's no surprise, then, that he finds every last one of them greatly interesting, nearly riveting. Which is obviously why he's in here in the study, staring a little blankly at the pages of one, and not intruding out in the living room. If he's basking in Miles's cast of joy like rays of sunshine, there's no one else who can tell, is there, and Miles himself obviously doesn't mind...
He jerks his gaze up guiltily when the door opens, but relaxes instinctively when he sees who it is. Curiosity lines his face quickly. ] Lady Cordelia? [ he asks tentatively. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
no subject
He bangs on the door, but before any reasonable time for someone to APPROACH the door, the kid's off...
And knocking on a window instead.]
HHHeeeeyyyyy!
no subject
Hey! Beat it! You're not allowed in here.
[ He taps on the window with a broom. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
LATER
Instead of even pretending to fold the enormous pile in front of him, Miles just groans and flops bodily into it. He hates laundry so much. At least his armswoman is here. ]
What if you did it? Da wouldn't know.
no subject
So far, he's off to a good start and she has a mental timer already going. She'll be sure to add the time to her final report. ]
You want me to lie to your da?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
no subject
Is this where the movie originally came from? Had he been borrowing it? Delivering it?
Regardless of which, he couldn't just dump it somewhere and forget about it, so here's one now greying (and infinitely less vagrant looking, even if he does look a bit like he's just walked out of, perhaps, a desert) Nicolas Demidov knocking on the door. ]
no subject
Passport?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
One of these days
Thankfully Church is only installed on her suit, no where near her neural implants. With the mental link bullshit she had gotten herself into and was (temporarily) keeping, she didn't need an on board passenger that close to her. A hologram projection and annoying side commentary is all she'll need to worry about.
She sends out a mild warning that she'll be bringing someone along with her today, particularly to Cordelia so the woman knows it's Tex's "Mr. Complicated," as a courtesy. None of them have cared about her being an AI and she doubts them coming in contact with a more obvious one will take any of the aback. Maybe if she's lucky, Church will actually help and make the new pace of her work day go by more easily. ]
no subject
'Lo, Tex.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
For Gregor!
In the end he decides it's better to acknowledge the elephant in the room.]
Was that Miles-san's fault?
no subject
Gregor at this age is standing off to the side, avoiding eye contact, looking more unsure than composed. At this question, though, his gaze darts over, and he smiles slightly, so wry it looks exactly like him when he's older. ]
How could you tell, [ he says dolefully. ] I really don't mind, though. It keeps him happy. You can laugh if you want.
[ He's used to having to give strangers permission to laugh at him. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
for miles!
She knocks on the door. Very, very enthusiastically. Also there’s some yelling.]
Helloooo! My name’s Mabel I’m here for Miles?
no subject
I'm Miles! What's all that for? Are we gonna decorate more stuff?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
POST-MUSEUM
It makes his sudden appearance at Gregor's door a potentially ominous event. He's certainly giddy about something from the way he's practically vibrating in place. ]
Hey! Gregor! Did you fall asleep?
no subject
He has to heave himself to his feet and rub at his face before going to the door, taking in a bit of Miles's intense energy over the link to get himself going. The museum had been amazing, and he's guiltily hiding a few souvenirs in his desk drawer himself, but there's nothing like touring a full museum with two rambunctious kids to drag him out of his preferred sedate pace to wear him out.
He yanks the door open and eyes him, unsure. ] Not yet. I can't believe even you're not tired yet.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
THE FINAL DAY, POST-PROPOSAL
He promptly turns over and buries his face in his pillow, attempting to block out the world for as long as possible.
Even that doesn't work, because his links are frayed and half-closed and in general disrepair after a full week of his younger self scrabbling to manage them and only partially succeeding. Gregor winces into his pillow, then sighs, then sets about work. The one disadvantage to the damn things is that he has Imperial duties even before he's gotten out of bed... But that's also a relief, because it means he can put off the ensuing emotional reaction longer.
Carefully he weaves ends back together, sets windows right in their frame, eases them shut. He needs some time to himself to deal with fallout without letting them all know he's back to normal. Some of the headache evaporates as he goes about this. Ah, not all emotional hangover, then. He can already tell it's just him, or at least just Miles who's still a child, because that link is of entirely different tenor than he's used to.
He thinks he detects a shadow there, from his, well, running off and burying his face in Cordelia's bosom like a six year old. Gregor groans a second time as he remembers Jim Kirk finding them. God. No. He just cannot deal with this. He refuses. This is all too much mess, and clearly the only answer is to ignore everything wholesale, his tried and true coping strategy.
Gregor levers himself out of bed, glad he was wearing his adult self's clothes to sleep in despite the wrong size, and gets dressed. At least things fit right now. His younger impressions and feelings are filtering through in a gradual trickle and they sit uncomfortably with him, not quite meshing right. He remembers all of it, including that vast sense of pressure; but Gregor can handle his younger emotions as his younger self couldn't handle his older's, they just don't meld properly. Like oil on water. He needs some emulsifier.
Which... like everything else, is likely to be Miles.
He pads downstairs in his socks and goes about making breakfast, a familiar routine by now that he's mostly using to steady himself back to normal. He trusts the smell is enough to lure in a rambunctious, often too-excited-to-sleep child. ]
no subject
The end result is a Miles who doesn't immediately rush Gregor as soon as he's downstairs. Instead he's at the table just as Gregor is finishing up, head pillows against his arms and a small plastic stegosaurus clutched in one hand. No ring this time. Over the link he's muddily and sleepily trying to put together an apology. The words are too fuzzy to make out, though perhaps the feeling is intelligible. Barely. Drifting away from coherency as Miles drifts into a light doze waiting for Gregor to finish up. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...