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~ Call of the Wild ~
Topic Started: Nov 26 2010, 09:17 PM (356 Views)
Ainmhithe
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† Guardian of the Emerald Moor †
[ *  * ]
Ainmhithe had always loved the sunset. It warmed her even in the harsh cold of Nevaren’s terrible winters, and caused her pelt to shine like burnished gold and fire. She walked proudly as the dying rays shone down on her, her paws softly kicking at the gravel she tread on. It had taken her much too long to stray toward the city once more, and though she knew she should not, she could not help but wander once more. She had trotted out of the Naricynth earlier that day to walk upon the old highway, and now she walked slowly, her ears perked to listen for any vehicles or humans.

As she appeared at that very moment, she was not a special creature; her silken pelt was a mixture of black, brown, ginger, gold and white, and her eyes shone bright gold and shadowy black in the light of the setting sun. She was about average size for a female Gray Wolf, though she looked healthier than those wolves who were completely wild. This was thanks to someone she had met nearly a year ago, who had helped keep her from certain death through a hard winter. Of course, he had no idea, she had figured…but she was more grateful than he realized, and it was he who she was going to see. The walk to his dwelling had always been treacherous; she had to follow the old highway all the way there, and it caused her paw pads to be terribly sore.

Sighting the building, she looked up and down the street to check for any vehicles, and she bounded across the road to the side of the structure. He had always been there before, so she assumed that he lived there, as farfetched a guess it might be. Did he not have an actual home, like most of the other humans in the city? No matter. She sniffed the ground for any scent of him, her ears perking curiously to listen for her human’s voice.

Her human. She owed a great debt to him, and as such, she had sworn to keep watch over him should he ever need it.
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Zephan Morrigan
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[ *  * ]
"1500? You trying to rob me, Morrigan!?" the man snapped, and Zephan looked up from the cash register, pausing just long enough to lean over the counter a bit and gesture around the store.

"I'm not sure ye oueally understand the situation yer in." Zeph replied, seeming fairly casual as he looked across the counter at the man holding the machine gun - a very well rebuilt MAC 10 that Zephan had gone to some pains to acquire, something which had been more and more difficult to do now that they were illegal in the US and the company that once made them had been shut down. Still, there was no better weapon for... extralegal activity. It was accurate enough, reliable, rapid fire, and the finish on the weapon made it extremely resistant to fingerprints. The police officer's worst enemy. But Zephan was an arms dealer, not a moralist. And certainly not a police officer. He'd sold to people he knew were spies and the like... this kid was a thug. He was going to take the gun and get into trouble with it. Get caught.

And more than that, he was trying to get out without paying the full fee. Zephan took that personally.

"You shouldn't have given me a loaded gun, and then tried to overcharge me, asshole" the man sneered from under his baseball cap, and Zephan simply regarded him with the same bored look.

"Did I really?" Zephan's emerald green eyes almost glittered a bit as he smiled, his heavy Irish accent lending a somewhat jovial lilt to his words - or they might have, if he hadn't used the man's momentary puzzlement at his lack of fright to pull a massive Saiga-12 shotgun from under the counter and level it straight at the man's chest.

"Now I'll be thankin' ye to put down the gun, because I never hand over the firing pins until after I get my money, so it won't be doin' yeh any good anyway. And you'll be gettin' out of my shop, too, until yeh learn some manners. And I'd suggest yeh think twice before trying to rob a gun shop again, because the next arms dealer yeh fuck with might just not decide ta talk at yeh instead of fillin yeh fulla buckshot. Out." He motioned with the barrel of the weapon, and the man set the gun down slowly, trembling, then bolted out. Zephan rolled his eyes a moment, lifting the shotgun and resting it on his shoulder as he turned around, slapping a button on the wall.

There was the sound of a buzzer, and metal shutters descended on all the windows, heavy metal deadbolts locked into the door, and long reinforcing beams snapped into place as well. He armored the hell out of this shop... too much business done with unsavory sorts. Too many times it went like this. "Fuckin' kids." he muttered, lowering the Saiga and replacing it in the compartment under the desk. He collected the illegal MAC10, then he looked around a bit before walking to the back of the shop, shutting off the lights, and stepping into the back room. The back room was filled with unfinished or disassembled weapons - though only the legitimate kind. For that, he had the basement. He wrapped the machine pistol up carefully, then dropped it in the chute that led downstairs, before locking the chute up and walking to the back door. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes as he opened it, then stepped out and leaned against the door, flicking an ancient Zippo lighter and lighting the coffin nail with it.

"Bad habits, Zephan." he muttered, speaking in Gaelic, as he usually did when he wasn't dealing with some asshole who only spoke English, then took another drag. He'd discovered some time ago that cancer was another of those things he couldn't get, so why the hell not? Plus, it pissed people off... he was all for that. Kept some of them from lingering too long in his presence. He never smoked inside, though - he didn't like having his home stink, and only a dumbass smoked around gunpowder.

It was while he was standing there, smoking and feeling generally antisocial, that he glanced up and saw the wolf.

"Well. It's been a while, hasn't it?" he asked, still speaking in Gaelic - he always had, figuring that if a wolf didn't understand human language anyway, one was as good as the other. In fact, this one had always seemed to like it better, so he'd stuck with it. Felt more like he was speaking to an old friend, anyway... even on the rare occasions that he went home to Ireland, almost no one spoke the old language. Sad times.

"You come back hungry again? Trying to eat me out of house and home?" he asked, lifting a brow - he'd always been fairly ornery with her, though he smiled faintly. He had a hard time being too ornery with her. She seemed a decent enough sort, for a wolf. Hadn't bitten him. HAD bitten that asshole who'd come to try and kill him. She was alright in his book.

"Well, come on then. I don't keep food outside or anything." He finished the cigarette, tossed it into a sand-filled bin nearby, and walked back inside, leaving the door open for her as he climbed the stairs to the second floor, where he actually lived. This part actually looked a rather nice apartment - it had once been the upper floor of a rather nice bank, after all. The room they came to first was his kitchen, and he pulled the refrigerator open, leaning down to look around. "You can come up if you want. Don't have to stand out there and wait like you always do. Assuming you're keeping to that creed of not biting me, that is. Beef or pork?" He pulled a package of each out to show her, lifting a brow.
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Ainmhithe
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† Guardian of the Emerald Moor †
[ *  * ]
As he noticed her presence, she opened her mouth slightly and let out a tiny yip of delight. However, when he spoke to her in Gaelic, she perked her ears, listening to him. This man was the only human—or near human—who spoke her language and spoke it well, and it brought her no end of elation that he spoke to her in such a tongue. It reminded her of home…of her family, and at that moment, she found herself missing Ireland terribly. She let out a soft whuff, strangely similar to a human sigh, and she lowered her ears and tail.

However, as he told her to follow him, she waited hesitantly before padding forward into the building. As he walked, she stopped in several places to sniff the carpet and furnishings, looking apprehensive and possibly frightened. She had never been in such an enclosed space with a human (or anything of the sort), and it was obvious by the rising fur at the back of her neck that she was nervous.

She managed to slowly make her way into his kitchen, watching him. She hadn’t come to eat again, like she had last year, though she would have thanked him for the offer had she the nerves to shift. Of course, what would he say if she did? She lowered her ears once more, though they quickly perked as he pulled out something that smelled like animal flesh. She sniffed it, staring at him for a moment before barking at the beef (it was what she was most accustomed to, since he had fed it to her before). Oddly, she dipped her head in a rather human gesture of thanks, and seemed to smile sheepishly.
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Zephan Morrigan
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[ *  * ]
"Yeah. I'm glad to see you, too. Don't tell me you're so alone that a cranky old Irishman like me actually seems like good company? Ah, hell. I'm glad for it anyway... And you can forget my comment about mooching. I'd just be eating alone if you hadn't come by." He shook his head a little, waiting for her to come upstairs and trying to be patient enough - she'd never come in before, and he hadn't really expected her to. Of course he was glad that she had - but it was a surprise anyway.

"Cow, eh? Good choice. Red usually beats white." he replied, nodding a moment and tossing the pork back, then he tossed the beef on the counter and pulled a few more things out of the fridge. "You'll have to hold on if we're eating together though. Us dumb humans have to cook food, and it takes too damn long." He smiled a moment at her apparent thankful gesture, laughing a bit as he started up a pan and put some olive oil in it.

"You know, I sit here and talk at you when you show up. I'd feel dumber about it if you didn't keep acting like you appreciate the talk, too. I'm not always sure what to think about it, but thank you. I keep worrying I'm forgetting my damned Gaelic, living in this damned country. Had to be a British colony. And we all had to come here. Fucking potatoes..." As usual, he was on one of his somewhat random rants... but he had things floating around in his head, and she was generally the only one he had to talk to about them.

Which... said a lot for his social skills.

The pan heated up, and he tossed one of the steaks in, listening to the sizzle a moment before he started adding seasonings, and tossed a potato - despite his earlier curse - into the oven. "You know, I went to the bookstore the other day. I saw a book titled 'Irish Cuisine', and I think I almost laughed my balls off." He chuckled a bit at the memory... ah, boiled meat... at least the food was better in America.
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Ainmhithe
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† Guardian of the Emerald Moor †
[ *  * ]
What he said bothered her a bit. She never liked to think of herself as ‘alone’, but the cold hard fact of the matter was that she was alone. She had never ran with a pack or had a family…Not since she left Ireland, anyway, and she had been running ever since then. That was, of course, until she came to Nevaren. The Naricynth had reminded her so much of the shade of green in her family’s fields that she felt compelled to stay.

She could never figure out why humans cooked their food so often. Then again, during the first part of her life she was a ‘human’—Granted, she had no idea what she was back then—she had to cook her food as well, though she knew if she would have eaten it raw as a wolf did, it would have not bothered her in the least. Curiously walking over to him and sniffing his pant leg as he spoke, she smiled inwardly at the scent and moved about three feet away from him, laying down on her stomach, her head lifted to watch his movements.

As he spoke further, she tried to keep herself from chuckling. Garou could speak in their wolf forms, though she had no doubt that if she did, at that very moment, he would most likely not appreciate it…or be surprised, or both. However, the thought had occurred to her many times before, even though she would never truly, fully admit it to herself.
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Zephan Morrigan
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"What? I need a shower or something? Probably just smell like gunpowder and oil, though." he muttered, shaking his head a bit while the meat cooked. He didn't cook it too much - he'd been AVOIDING overcooking meat since coming to America, not the other way around, so it might have been medium rare at most. He tossed that on the plate with the potato and a few other things, then he took his plate to the table nearby, and looked around.

"Well... I don't have anything to put this in... not like I'd give you a doggie bowl like you were some kinda pet. So just try not to make a mess, eh?" He pulled the rest of the plastic off the other two stakes and set them down for her, chuckling. "There you go. Hope you don't mind it isn't exactly gourmet." He gave the fur of her head a light tousle, a bit quickly, as though he was worried she would be bothered, then he sat down next to her at the table and started cutting into his own food.

He ate mostly in silence... he'd run out of rants for the moment, it seemed, and he'd always been yelled at for being impolite when he talked to much while he ate... things you still dealt with from childhood, after all. Though he paused a moment and looked down to her. "That alright? I mean, probably not as fresh as you're used to or anything like that. Ah, hell. Not like you can give me a critique. Figure you wouldn't eat if it wasn't any good... You'll have to forgive me for talking so damn much. I spend all day keeping quiet so my customers don't think they're making friends or anything and try to get a discount. I swear, criminals are even more clingy than housewives... I get so sick of dealing with them. And the collectors are even worse!" He shook his head again, falling silent once more as he ate a bit.

"I figure I wouldn't mind if you could speak. At least you'd probably know when to shut up." he said finally, eating a bit more steak.
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Ainmhithe
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† Guardian of the Emerald Moor †
[ *  * ]
As he set the steaks down in front of her, she sniffed them curiously for a moment. She though it rude to check them for anything strange, but such was the way of the wolf…She had always been cautious. However, around him, she felt as if she could at least ease up a bit. He didn’t have any reason to poison her, she thought.

She waited for him to sit and cut into his food before she started on hers. Ainmhithe still remembered some of her human manners, after all, and it wouldn’t do for the wolf to eat before the owner of the house. She sniffed the meat once more and tore into it, only pausing to look up at him as he questioned her. She gave him a happy bark and a wag of her tail to let him know it was good, and she dipped her head and finished the rest, licking his floor completely clean after she was done.

When she had cleaned up the mess, she moved over to him cautiously, her head low as if to indicate she meant no harm to him. She looked up at him and gave yet another soft whuff, as if asking if he would allow her to lay by his feet.
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Zephan Morrigan
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[ *  * ]
"Oh, good. I was worried about that." he said, smiling when she gave what was a pretty clear signal of satisfaction at the meal, then he returned to his, finishing a little after her, but not too long. By the time she finished cleaning up, he had as well, and he chuckled a bit, walking to his living room and sitting down. As usual... there wasn't much to do, now. Job done, no one wanting anything special... quiet night.

He looked back up at her then, blinking once, until he realized what she meant. "Oh, you want to lay here? Well... sure, of course." He was a little surprised, still - that she wanted to stay so close, it seemed. She'd always sort of shied away after eating, he'd been expecting her to run off again. He was glad for the company, though, and after a moment he leaned down, brushing his fingers through the fur of her back a moment.

"Hope that's alright. I know you're no dog, but... well... I dunno what else I'm supposed to do." he finally said, shaking his head a bit and looking to the radio. He turned on some music - rock, actually, though not too loud, since he liked to be able to hear attempted break-ins.

"You can stay as long as you like, you know." he said finally. "I'll have to rig the doors somehow so you could get out though... hm." He pulled a pad out and started sketching something - at least he seemed to have found a project.
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Ainmhithe
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† Guardian of the Emerald Moor †
[ *  * ]
Ainmhithe followed the man quietly, finally raising her head as he sat. She lay down at his feet, curiously watching him—but she nearly jumped out of her skin when he touched her back, letting out a bit of a soft, frightened whine and looking up at him, as if gauging his intentions. He had always been good to her, if not a bit ornery, so she figured she had no reason to be frightened of him and she quickly calmed herself. Strangely enough, she looked extremely embarrassed, laying her head on her paws with a soft sigh.

Oh, she wished she could speak to him! He may have been a ‘cranky old Irishman’, but he was the only company she had…In fact, the only living soul she had associated with in several years. She had never found her place with the wolves or the humans, and him…He was different. She could smell it in his blood. She was thankful for him, that much was true, and as he mentioned that she could stay as long as she wanted, her heart sank. She couldn’t possibly, even if he knew what she was. Did he? Was he so different that he could tell that she was a shifter, a…a monster who changed to something terrible beneath the full moon? Her ears flattened slowly against her head, and she sighed.

When he pulled out the sketch pad, she rose to her feet slowly and peeked over the paper curiously, wondering what exactly it was that he was doing.
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Zephan Morrigan
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"Oi... sorry about that. I didn't mean to startle you." Zephan said, pulling his hand back, worried he'd screwed up something awful, but she seemed embarrassed more at herself than she was upset with him, so he nodded a bit. Perhaps she just wasn't used to it. He got the feeling she didn't have a pack, like the wolves were supposed to. He couldn't think of a reason why she wouldn't, but then, sometimes people just didn't quite fit in...

"I guess we're both odd, eh?" he said finally, watching her for a moment and trying to figure out what she was thinking. Oh, she wasn't a normal wolf, she acted too... civilized for that, and she wouldn't be coming back into town, even if she had decided to hang around his shop for handouts during a particularly nasty winter. But was she a skinwalker, or some wolf someone had kept as a pet and then abandoned? That was tricky to determine... and he was getting a distinct feeling that she was trying not to let him know. He would respect that, he supposed... even if it did leave him wondering.

He grinned a bit at her curiosity, then he slid down off the chair, sitting on the carpet next to her so she could see. "It's a latch system. So if you do stay in here, and I'm asleep or something, you can open the door to get out. Otherwise I'll have to worry I'm keeping you prisoner or something." He smiled a bit, then went back to sketching them out, occasionally looking to the door, apparently able to catch the dimensions either from memory or just from those glances, because the numbers he wrote were rather precise.

"Letting you get in would be tougher... unless I can show you how to use a keypad or something. I've got a bit too much expensive merchandise to be leaving the door unlocked, you know?"
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Ainmhithe
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† Guardian of the Emerald Moor †
[ *  * ]
Ainmhithe nodded her head as he apologized for startling her. It wasn’t as if he had done anything wrong, really…It wasn’t as if he knew that she was still somewhat afraid of him, despite his gentleness toward her. It wasn’t his fault. She perked her ears a bit as he spoke. They were both odd; she had never seen him with other people, aside from those who he had done business with—and of course, the occasional robber, but she’d done well to take care of those.

As he slid down onto the carpet, she wagged her tail a bit and put a paw on his leg, staring down at the paper. She had never understood technical things, especially locks and such that were more than a simple padlock or magical seal. However, she did know how to open seals, whether they were on a locked metal door or a house.

Was he so accustomed to her, even after such a short time, that he would allow her free reign of his home? She found that strange, even though she would allow him to wander in her territory if he so chose to. She stared at the door, and seemed to frown a bit, a strangely human emotion on a wolf’s face. She then lay down on her stomach next to him, planting her head in her paws, an indicator that she would stay if he needed her to.

If she was going to help watch over him, as she had planned, she would have to get used to him sooner or later. She figured now would be the best time.

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Zephan Morrigan
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Zephan smiled a bit at her paw on his leg, and he reached out then, making sure she wouldn't be startled as he ran his fingers through the thick fur again. "It's settled then. I know we haven't exactly known each other a terribly long time. But considering I never did find anyone else in this town worth hanging around, and you seem to have more or less the same idea, we may as well keep each other company. Before one or both of us loses our minds from talking to ourselves, or something similar."

He shook his head a bit at the last part. He'd been more or less alone for an awfully long time, excepting the occasional visits from his 'godmother'. And THOSE were rarely entirely pleasant, to put it mildly. Fae ALWAYS wanted something. He supposed he owed them in a few ways, but it had been his parents, not him... and they hadn't even won their war. He'd given up on it - hadn't freed him from the pact, as it turned out.

He shook those thoughts off finally, finished the sketch and set it aside, looking back to the wolf. "I suppose the big question now is... what the heck do I call you? You must have a name of some kind. I'd hate to pick something at random and have it be wrong... you probably wouldn't like that much, huh?" Again he seemed to suggest - if only a little - that he thought she was something other than she appeared. Considering how generally civilized she was being, it was hard to shake that feeling, after all.
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Ainmhithe
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† Guardian of the Emerald Moor †
[ *  * ]
Her name? Her name…Oh, dear, how would she possibly tell him that? The wolfess paced the floor for a moment, and upon eyeing his sketch pad, she walked over to it curiously, sniffing it. No, no, that wouldn’t work. Who had ever thought of a wolf who could write, let alone speak? No, she had to find some other way to tell him. Flopping on her haunches, she lifted a paw as if raising her hand for him to watch. Then, making slow motions in the air, she spelled out A-I-N-E. Of course, it was the shortened version of her name, but she figured it would do.

After she was finished, she looked at him curiously; he of course knew she was not just a normal wolf, but she was fairly sure he had no idea what she truly was. Usually when one told someone they were Garou, and not just a Skinwalker…Well, let’s just say most people laughed the fur right off of her tail several times. She waited expectantly, her mouth slightly open, for him to tell her his name. After all, she had wanted to know for awhile now…But she could never ask him. Not like she wanted to.
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Zephan Morrigan
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Zephan blinked a moment as he watched her - it was harder than it sounded to tell the letters someone was writing in the air, but he got them right, he thought... "Aine, then? Well, I'm Zephan." He smiled to her, cheerfully as before, but after a few moments he stood, crossing his arms and looking down to her, frowning a moment.

"Alright, Aine - give it up, will ya? You're not a wolf who wandered in here, you're a shifter of one kind or another. You never noticed the smells of the others? Probably half my customers have some sort of mythical traits, shifters make up a good percentage of it. Good market for specially made weapons they can use in mid-shift forms. If you're a skinwalker you can tell me. Or... is the problem different than that?" He lifted a brow, sitting back down finally, though his emerald eyes never quite left her.

"Look... I... bah." He reached up, as if to brush a hand back through his hair - when he lowered his hand, however, his ears had lengthened, coming to long points, and his eyes had taken a faint glow. There even seemed to be an odd quality to his hair, as if silver filaments had replaced some of the strands. "I'm a fuckin half-fae, or whatever it is you call it. Parents went and made a pact with them before I was born. Deal with the devil, only it was with tiny ladies who glow a little too much." He closed his eyes, and the changes vanished, then he shot Aine a glare.

"And it doesn't make me a fuckin leprechaun so you can just keep your mouth shut about that one. Of all the mythical types, I have to be the one who trails fuckin glitter." He looked away then, scowling at nothing in particular - he'd never really liked having the pact he had... usually others like him seemed to like it better. He'd always just been mostly annoyed by 'that side of the family'.
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Ainmhithe
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† Guardian of the Emerald Moor †
[ *  * ]
As he admitted, finally admitted, that he knew what she was (or at least had somewhat correct knowledge), there was no whuff, no sigh, no bark…But a light chuckle that was distinctly female, strangely smooth and soft for a creature such as she. She stood, watching him as he glared down at her. He was a half-fae? She knew it! He’d the scent of the Hidden Folk, and it stuck in her nose each time she came to visit him.

”Fae are not so bad…” She said softly to him as he sat, and oddly enough, she spoke an older style of Gaelic, one that she spoke fluently. After all, it was her first language. She knew it would come as little surprise to him. ”They are merely tricky…and quite smart.”

She watched as he sat back down, the look on her face unchanging. Her muscles twitched, hinting at a movement, but she stayed still instead, thinking better of shifting in front of him. It had been so long, she wasn’t quite sure what exactly she would be wearing when she did. Wolf or no, Ainmhithe still had her modesty to think of.

Aine sighed softly, lowering her head as she stood before him, looking up at him with nervous eyes. Fae or not, she was still somewhat terrified of anything with a human scent, and it showed. Though, once again, he had never hurt her.
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