singillatim | no man is an island

no man is an island

MAY 2024 EVENT

PROMPT ONE — THE ENDS JUSTIFY THE MEANS: Young Bill asks the Interlopers for help in dealing with a group of protestors that have been harassing him for months — by stealing their hidden caches and starving/forcing them out of the Lakeside area.

PROMPT TWO — SACRIFICIAL OFFERINGS: It turns out that sometimes folktales are true after all, and a mysterious creature lives within the Lake of Lakeside — and it demands payment for use of its Lake.

PROMPT THREE — GLIMMERFOG: A strange new weather phenomenon causes a new illness in Interlopers.

THE ENDS JUSTIFY THE MEANS

WHEN: Mid-May — onwards.
WHERE: Lakeside area.
CONTENT WARNINGS: themes of survival; themes of morality; themes of scavenging; instances of animal mutilation; instances of corpse mutilation/desecration; themes of folk horror;

Methuselah, having visited Lakeside, passes on the message in mid-May that Young Bill is looking for assistance from the Interlopers and asks for anyone who would be kind enough to donate their time to visit him. Some may already know how to Young Bill’s cabin, but Methuselah will draw a quick map for those unfamiliar to find the way.

After traversing through the Milton Mine — which was cleared by Interlopers back in March — and using the hand-operated crank to use the lift to reach the Lakeside entrance, Interlopers will simply need to follow the train track down through the mountains for a few hours before crossing the railway bridge over the ravine and into Lakeside. Coming off the tracks and following a trail northwards will eventually lead to a small cabin and outbuilding within a clearing: this is the home of Young Bill.

… and it seems the man himself is no less wary when he steps out onto his porch, his rifle in hands raised towards the newcomers that make their way into their clearing. Mentioning that Methuselah sent you will quickly earn that rifle being lowered though, and he will nod his head indoors.

“C’mon, I’ll get some coffee on. You look like you could do with the warm up.”

Young Bill will do just that, encouraging Interlopers to sit and warm themselves by the log burner within his home — offering mugs of coffee. He’s not alone in the cabin, either. There’s also Scout, an Alaskan Malamute, who… appears to be nesting, sleeping on piles of blankets and pillows. Once everyone’s a little warmer, he will take a seat. Onto business, then.

“Alright, straight up— what I’m suggesting here isn’t gonna be all that pleasant when you look at the big picture. If you want out, that’s fine. I’m not gonna judge.”

He means that. He understands that this going to be less than savoury, and folks are gonna have their principles and their morals. People are free to walk away from his proposal, but regardless of their participation: this is happening.

“Some of you already know about this, but I’ll start from the beginning for those who don’t. There’s this group of folks who call themselves the ‘Forest Talkers’. Rocked up here a couple of years back to protest against some of the big productions going on here in Lakeside, like the resort expansion.” he shrugs. “Few of them are locals, but most of them are from the Mainland. They weren’t so bad, but they were a pain in the ass for the companies working here. Messing with machinery, protests, vandalism. That sort of thing. I’d see them around but— they never used to bother me at all. We kept out of another’s way until everything started going south several months back.

But now? Those eco-fucks have done nothing but cause trouble for months. They break my traps, they’ve stolen from me. They tried to trash my home. They’ve even tried to attack me while I’ve been out. Pretty sure they’re the ones behind some of the burnt-out and trashed lodges. …I heard some of you guys got shot at, too.”

There’s a short pause, and Young Bill’s face grows dark, a little disturbed. Those who have been in the Northern Territories longer will note that something has been bothering Young Bill for the last couple of months or so. He’s been reluctant to mention it, but the man looks exhausted.

“They’ve done… odd shit, too. Like something out of an old horror movie. It’s like they’ve gone nuts, or something.”

If pressed, he will share the more… grisly details. Killed and mutilated wildlife, often arranged in frightening manners. He’s even found the… bodies of people: Forest Talkers themselves from what he can gather, some natives to the Northern Territories, some workers from the resort and hydrodam. The bodies are just as mutilated, skin torn from limbs, eyes removed. At some point, he has to stop. He doesn’t want to go on.

“I’ve tried reasoning with them, I’ve tried threatening them. They don’t wanna listen. I’m tired of being watched and hounded in my own home.” he explains. He seems exhausted by the whole thing. “So I guess the only thing I can think to do is to try and starve them out. I’m not here to attack anyone, but I guess maybe if they don’t have much left then they’ll finally give up and just leave. I bet if they didn’t have the foothold they have in this place, they wouldn’t be half as brave as they are.”

Ah, yes. The less-than-savoury part of all of this. Stealing from others, starving them out. Perhaps it’s not the worst thing to do to another here, but cutting off lifelines might be… morally questionable.

“They have caches, all over Lakeside. Food, supplies, stuff like that. I’ve found notes.”

He gets up to walk towards his desk and pulls out a few pieces of paper. Each of them is marked with either a stamp or some hand-drawn symbol: a circle with a simple line of pine trees inside of it, topped with the shadow of a face. They’re handwritten notes, detailing cryptic clues about where caches are hidden all over the area. Young Bill will hand them out to Interlopers to have a look.

“I have a rough idea of where they are, but I need help in finding them. It’s hard enough with the fog, and now Scout’s expecting.” There’s an unamused grumble at that last part, but he continues. “You can keep what’s in them, I just want them gone.”

Some may choose to back out of this, and Young Bill is true to his word. He isn’t here to shame or judge anyone for not choosing to get in on this. But for those who do, the journey begins. Interlopers can go out into Lakeside and begin the grim scavenger hunt. Young Bill will even supply Interlopers with maps of the Lakeside area with vague ideas of where he believes the notes may be talking about in terms of these caches. For those who disbelieve Young Bill’s claims, they too will soon find their own evidence: the very same things the man had spoken of scattered around the area.

It’s disturbing. Something is… very wrong with these people. But there seems to be no trace of the actual people themselves. Interlopers may get the sense of being watched, perhaps a sound from the woods, or something of the like — but nothing more than that. Heading to the Old Hunting Lodge and getting too close will bring on gunfire from the Forest Talkers.

Caches, when found, may be rock cairns hidden against rockier areas in Lakeside. Some might be metal containers half-hidden or even buried in the snow. They will mostly contain goods such as dried food or even MRE’s. Others will contain things like basic medical supplies such as bandages, disinfectants, painkillers, or antibiotics. Others may contain flares or ammunition. Interlopers are free to claim the items as their own — just as Young Bill said.

Surely this will get rid of them, and force them to leave the area. Right?

SACRIFICIAL OFFERINGS

WHEN: The month of May, onwards.
WHERE: Lakeside.
CONTENT WARNINGS: supernatural creatures; serpentine creature; themes of sacrifice; potential character death/maiming; potential drownings.

While the lake of Lakeside appears to have been well known for being used all year, with fishing and watersports available during the summer, the harsh weather that has plagued the Northern Territories now means that the lake has now (possibly) become permanently frozen solid. In some respects, this is good news: allowing Interlopers to cross the terrain more easily to reach the cabins and not resorting to the long way around through the woods. It also means that there is ample opportunity for ice fishing, and it’s possible to build structures on the ice to stay warm.

But something else lurks beneath the thick ice, and it has noticed you upon its frozen waters.

In the Camp Office, a small display hangs on the wall about a monster from folklore native to the lake. It is said that the beast was the guardian of the lake and would demand sacrifice from those who wished to use its waters or otherwise drag them down to a watery grave. The whole thing seems like just some “fun” interest-grabber to visitors and those vacationing on the lake, even with cartoon drawings of a gigantic snake-like monster smiling goofily.

Or is it?

To the unsuspecting Interloper who ventures out onto the lake, whether to fish upon it or simply cross it, it appears, bursting through the ice: a huge serpentine creature with dark-green skin dotted with ridges along its back and dragon-like head — thick-bodied and incredibly fast as it rears up and opens its mouth — roaring at you with a wide, fanged mouth.

And then, it waits. And suddenly you wonder if maybe that cheesy display in the Camp Office might have had a point after all.

The creature demands a sacrifice for the use of its lake. Perhaps you have food or some freshly caught game to offer it. Or some small token you own that you can give to it: a tool, a cherished item. Maybe even the shirt off your own back, or the very blood running through your veins. You must give something.

Lay it upon the ice before it, and the beast will take it, gently collecting it between its teeth and returning to the depths below. Refuse to give anything, and the beast will roar and launch into an attack — pulling itself fully out of the lake.

It moves with speed, and will try to devour you, or wrap its body around you to squeeze the life out of you, or simply pull you down under the water. There will be no winning against this creature, no way of harming it and no way of fighting back. You may have a chance of running away, getting off the lake, but it will remember you, and will try to come for you once more if you ever step foot on the ice again.

The choice is yours, Interloper. What will you sacrifice?

GLIMMERFOG

WHEN: The month of May, onwards into early June.
WHERE: Milton area; Lakeside area.
CONTENT WARNINGS: supernatural weather; themes of illness; insomnia and sleep deprivation symptoms; altered-mental states; hallucinations; nosebleeds/blood; possible character death.

Interlopers have come to understand that strange meteorological occurrences are not uncommon within the Northern Territories, especially given the Aurora. Auroras can often last for days, as one long and seemingly endless kind of terrible, noisy bright night which affects both electronics and nature alike. Or there's the toxic fog; times where the sky goes green and the moon and stars disappear; monster blizzards… strange is the new norm.

The fog that began in April doesn’t seem to be letting up any time soon. Endless days where the fog is too thick to travel in. Fortunately, there are no further bouts of the green, toxic fog that plagued the Northern Territories — the fog that remains is just the usual freezing cold and clinging damp that's been exhausting Interlopers.

Until there’s something else that starts to happen with the fog.

At first, it appears to be no different than the usual fog rolling in: cold, wet, and biting. It clings to those who are caught out in it, and it’s utterly miserable. However, those paying attention will note that the clouds of fog will occasionally... glimmer.

It’s as if there’s a current of electricity running through it, if one watches carefully. Mini lightning bolts shooting through and upwards in curious patterns. Flicks and pops that make the tiny hairs on one’s arms and neck stand up — almost like static. It won’t shock those caught within it, but it might be a little difficult to look at at times — as if someone were staring at a light that’s far too bright.

It’s oddly pretty, and seems particularly harmless, but there’s something far more sinister about this new, strange phenomena — or... Glimmerfog, as Interlopers will come to call it.

The first sign that something is amiss is the insomnia. In truth, sleep is often hard to come by in the Northern Territories, so it might be something that is easily brushed off as quite usual in terms of day to day life. However, Interlopers will realise they won’t be able to sleep at all, and will find themselves lying awake for the entirety of the night. Soon enough, more things creep up with the insomnia, the usual signs of sleep deprivation: dizzy spells, unsteadiness on one’s feet, poor hand-eye coordination, difficulty in concentration or poor short-term memory, even mood swings or changes to behaviour are likely.

Eventually, the symptoms begin to grow more sinister: nosebleeds are common, aches and pains... and then the fever sets in. Interlopers will become weak, lethargic, and even then they still cannot sleep through their illness. With it, comes hallucinations: sounds or sights, and then quickly developing into a full on delirium. Dreams and reality blend into one. An Interloper’s dreams and nightmares bleed into the waking world. They will find themselves experiencing their dreams despite being wide awake.

It seems like there is very little to be done in trying to fight the illness. Trying to tackle the fever and getting the afflicted Interloper some kind of sleep is the main concern, both of which may eventually kill the Interloper if enough is not done in time. Natural sleep-aids like herbal teas, or medications still available in the world may be able to get the Interloper to sleep for short amounts of time. Keeping the Interloper inside and away from the Glimmerfog will also help immensely, as will spending time in complete darkness or even underground or within caves/mining systems.

Breaking the fever will signal the peak and decline of the illness, and with enough care the Interloper will slowly begin to recover.

FAQs

THE ENDS JUSTIFY THE MEANS

1. Players are free to come up with their own ideas of cache locations within Lakeside. It might be particular points of interest, a particular kind of tree, within isolated cabins in the woods.

2. Please be reasonable of finds in the caches. These supply amounts won't be a huge amount — think small but many caches.

3. It is possible to come across the grisly finds in Lakeside without meeting up with Young Bill first.

4. Caches would tend to stick to similar themes, ie. food cache, medicine cache, etc.

SACRIFICIAL OFFERINGS

1. It is not possible to communicate with the beast, but it does seem to understand Interlopers. It will have no desire to communicate of befriend any one, though.

2. The beast will be a permanent fixture of the Lake.

3. Interlopers who initially refuse to give the beast anything can try again at a later date. They will have to offer their offering quickly, showing outward remorse for their initial disrespect towards the beast.

4. Locals refer to the Lakeside Beast as 'Nor'pogo.'

GLIMMERFOG

1. "Glimmerfog Disease" will run it's full course in roughly ten to fourteen days, with symptoms peaking typically around day seven to nine. Once the fever breaks, Interlopers will require a few days to fully recover.

2. Characters are welcome to kill of NPCs with this prompt, as Interlopers who don't make it through the illness — or to be used to study the sickness. Please let the mods know if you plan to kill an NPC for record keeping purposes!

PLOTTING POST

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Edward's already taking another step towards him as Thomas starts to move, something odd and unsteady to it, like a tree waiting to topple over. It's ever more alarming, and he has one hand raised just a bit into the air, ready to respond to that bit about Wynonna, when suddenly the sound of coughs are overpowering everything, and his eyes widen further.

"Thomas."

Quickly, he rushes to his side, pressing his palm to Jopson's back while the other hand reaches for his arm. Up close, he can see the worrisome pallor to his skin, slick with fever, and his heart skips an unpleasant beat.

"Please, let me help you inside to sit down. You look as though you'll fall over any moment!"

Of course his lungs choose this moment to catch on something he breathes in. A bit of dust, perhaps. The cold air irritating his throat. Either way, Thomas is well aware of what a dire picture this is painting and how little his protestations would matter in the face of the overwhelming evidence against him. Even if he this is simply a cough and a fever.

Perhaps this should be a wake up call to be more mindful of how he tries to assure others when he is genuinely unwell.

There's little time to ponder on that, though, as Edward is already at his side and Thomas just sighs.

"I'm - " he says automatically and then stops himself. Perhaps it will do Edward some good to help.

"Yes, alright. Just in there. I can make a fire and rest a while."

There's a temporary sweep of relief that the other man agrees to it, and Edward nods quickly, keeping that one hand pressed to his back while the other nudges the door open.

"Yes, please — in out of the cold."

He isn't very used to taking care of others like this. Not in a hands-on manner, at least. His role meant that he had responsibility for the men, to be sure, but.... it was always from some distance. Often with other subordinate officers acting as in-betweens.

Edward moves slowly and carefully as he guides Jopson in, heading for the nearest soft surface to try and coax him to sit.

"Rest here; I'll get a fire going for you. Is there anything else that might help? Some water, or something to eat?"

He already hates this, but it seems to settle Edward, so that makes it worth it. The door opens and he walks in, finding the couch and sitting on it. He leans back, legs stretched out, feeling absolutely ridiculous but also -

Oh.

Sitting truly does help him. Lying back, feeling the tension leave his shoulders, feeling everything sort of settle, is probably the best thing he's done all day.

"Water is fine. There is a bottle. In the kitchen there." He points in the vague direction, but Little can't actually miss it. Jopson sits up to sneeze a few times, but manages to grab the blanket on the back of the couch and pull it over himself.

He might never want to do this again, but he doesn't feel the need to stop Edward now.

There's a quick nod, and Little's on it, hurrying to the kitchen to look quickly around for the bottle. He finds it quickly enough and returns to the other man to place it gently at his side before he's moving to the fireplace to get some warmth going.

It'll take a few moments, the silence of which Edward will fill in with more fretting—

"When did this start coming on? Has it been sudden, or growing for some time?" This sickness, he means, remembering how slowly it'd begun creeping into Irving until all of a sudden it completely ravaged his body. And... mind. John hasn't been well in all aspects. Edward worries his lower lip as he stokes the fire, watching Thomas anxiously.

He looks up to the ceiling, breathing through the congestion in his face. "Ah. It started as these things always do. A sore throat one day, then the rest to follow the next." It had been a quick onset. One day, maybe two. And now he's in day six, but at least it feels as if the end is nearing. He's at the tail end of it.

He takes the water and drinks from it in little sips, sparing his throat.

"It is nothing," he tries to assure him.

A sore throat... Had John had that? There had been aches and pain and feverish things, so it may all be related. In any case, Jopson truly doesn't look well, and Edward can tell by the way his voice sounds that he's ill.

The fire starts to crackle to life, small and flickering, but it will grow quickly. So Edward returns to the other man's side, peeling off his gloves and tucking them into his coat. He hesitates though, hand hovering near his forehead, worry deep in his eyes as he stares down at Thomas. It doesn't feel right to touch him without asking, for more than one reason.

"May I...? I just want to feel your skin."

This is nothing compared to feeling his body rot away from the inside with the scurvy, the starvation, the poison. It's nothing compared to feeling himself dying. This, in fact, is quite the holiday for him, even if he does feel rather useless.

It's the fatigue that he hates the most. The fever can be handled. The sneezing and coughing is inconvenient. The fatigue makes it difficult to live and work on his own without Wynonna, and he'd rather not involve her at the moment.

He gives Edward a small nod. "Yes, of course."

Edward nods, takes a steadying breath, and places the back of his knuckles against the other man's forehead. He leaves it there for a moment before lifting his hand to turn around, palm flat there now — testing the temperature of his skin.

"You're burning up," he says quietly, but there's clear alarm in his tone. He needs a true doctor, but... Edward doesn't even know who's here in Lakeside right now. Everyone's scattered all over the place.

Worriedly, he purses his lips together tightly for a moment. There are things he's picked up along the way, methods to reduce fever. He's quickly moving back to the kitchen to prepare a cool washcloth and bring it back to the other man, gently brushing that one prominent forelock back and placing the cloth upon his forehead. And he might hold his tongue ordinarily, but... he can't. Not now. (He can't let something happen to this man. Not again.)

"...How are you really doing, Thomas? This is bad. I know it's bad."

The cool washcloth is blissfully comfortable against his forehead and he can't help but close his eyes a moment.

Thomas reaches up to take his hand, wrapping fingers around his wrist to hold him fast. "Look at me. This is nothing but a simple cough that has gone awry. I know what death feels like," he says and it feels like a low blow. However, Thomas wants him to know that he's serious, and this seems the only way.

"This is not that."

Thomas Jopson is a hard man to read. In his time here, Edward feels that he's seen more of him — but he's still learning, and there's so much to learn.

He's so rarely seen this man complain about anything. He's so quiet — and yet, this same quiet man was capable of delivering blows to Cornelius Hickey with no hesitation. When Thomas grabs his wrist and looks up at him like that, Edward's reminded of it, again. That... sharp something to Jopson. It's a little frightening, intimidating. He stares widely down, and the words do sting, a sudden punch to the gut, a painful hitch of his heart, but— ...Thomas is letting him be here. Letting him stay.

So Edward tries to re-gather himself, even if he looks a bit shaken — and nods.

"All right. I understand." His eyes soften; he can't hide how wounded they look. "I apologise. I—..." Should he say this? He swallows.

"I do not want anything to happen to you."

He makes sure that he has his eyes.

"Do not apologize for caring. Do not apologize for helping. You are a comfort to me today," he assures him. "A comfort and a help." He loosens his grip on his wrist and closes his eyes a moment. "There is some salted rabbit in the cabinets, if you'd like to help yourself to it."

He sucks in a breath as a chill runs through him. "But another blanket, if you would?"

Little stares down at the other man, holding that iced-blue gaze, a direct contrast to his own dark brown one. A comfort. And a help.

To think that he could be such things to Thomas Jopson.

He stares for a while longer, even when Thomas's fingers have released from his wrist, and then nods again, quick and dutifully, rushing to find another blanket for him. He'll take care of that before anything else, moving through the cabin. It's rather like the one he and Kate had stayed in for a while — luxurious, spacious. Lakeside is a much different feel from Milton.

Edward locates a thick, padded blanket and pillow, and carries them back to the sofa. He wastes no time draping the blanket over Thomas and tucking it carefully around him, and then helping ease the pillow in too. With that, he moves to sit carefully down at the foot of the sofa, turned towards him. Hunger does gnaw at his stomach, but he'll wait a bit before giving into it.

"Please let me know if there's anything more you need." A beat, and he lifts his brows a little, finally allowing the hint of a smile.

"These cabins are very opulent, aren't they. Are you planning to stay here in Lakeside for a while? It might be a nice reprieve from things."

He keeps his eyes closed a while, letting the world dip and spin and turn in its fever as he pushes his hair behind his ear again. It's a very good thing that he's here, lying here now, feeling feverish but - still. Calm. The coughing comes again, but it's subdued, less intense than it has been.

Maybe they've been right about resting all along.

"They are," he agrees. "Finer than any place I've lived before. I think we are staying, Wynonna and I."

Edward keeps a close watch on him, nervous when that coughing spell makes an appearance — but at least Thomas is resting, and still, and hopefully he'll be able to find sleep soon.

For now... it's nice to hear him speaking, that he's still capable of forming coherent thought. Edward still remembers how some of the men turned — some slowly, but others more rapidly, like Morfin.

"Staying?" That surprises him, though he keeps his voice calm and quiet so as not to cause him stress. "For how long?"

He shakes his head. "Until another opportunity to leave presents itself, Edward," he tells him, as if it's obvious.

They aren't living here, but they are staying. It's been months and, while Thomas has no desire to live out the rest of his days here, he does like having a little place to turn into his home base. To make a little peace and happiness in a place so desolate and foreboding.

Ah. He nods, fiddling with his hands in his lap for a moment. "It has become... so much more difficult to keep up with everyone, now. I know some of our number have decided to move to Lakeside permanently."

His voice gains a slightly strained edge to it; no surprise that he's been worrying himself to death about that fact. How can he keep an eye on everyone when they're split into two separate communities?

"But I am glad that you and Miss Earp have each other's company, here. It's safer that way."

"Yes, that is - the best way for it."

He remembers staying with Little, when the both of them couldn't stand to be alone. He remembers sharing that space with him, how comforting it was. He remembers it well because it was the only time he felt comfortable and safe.

He feels it now.

"And you?"

"My time here will be very short. I came only to assist with those seeking out the caches, as guard." Soon enough, he'll return to Milton.

"John came with me — Lieutenant Irving," he adds quickly enough to clarify. "He's been... ill, as well. Something quite dreadful, so I mean to keep an eye on him."

A beat, and then he looks back to Thomas. "Have you spoken with him, since his arrival?"

"I have," he answers, but it's clear that it wasn't so important to him to maintain that connection. Not with Irving, at least.

"What have you found in the caches?"

He's careful with the subject, unsure on what grounds his former crewmen stand with one another. It's all very complicated, and... rather awkward.

"Some canned food, and medical supplies. Bandages. I feel uneasy that some of our number have taken such resources from them, but... I understand why they are."

He sighs, stomach aching with all of the various worries bottled up within it.

"I must admit, I am deeply worried for John's safety, in regards to Mr. Hickey's... actions." Murder. He'd killed that man. Little flinches, softly. "I fear that devil may target him again."

"Mr. Hickey's murder," Thomas speaks up, with no fear of retribution or condemnation. He wants to call it what it is because walking around it, being careful, is how they ended up with a veritable mutiny on their hands.

That noose should have stayed around his neck.

"How did he take Mr. Hickey's presence here?" he wonders, coughing.

Edward flinches, even if so subtly, but then nods. It's still difficult for him to... look at. To face. John's murder was... a particular turning point. Little can't get the sight of his corpse from his mind.

"He seems to be faring well enough, but... we've not discussed it in length. I do not know how to address it." Edward sighs quietly, before looking over at the other man with a fresh note of alarm at those coughs. He can't help still wishing there were more he could do for him.

"Ah — Thomas, your throat... I am sorry to keep you speaking. Do you need to take a rest now? I'll not bother you."

He smiles in relief, nodding his head. "Yes, but - you may stay." He can't bring himself to ask for it, to beg him to not leave him alone this time.

He's afraid he's made too many other pointed comments to him.

It isn't the first time Thomas Jopson has told him that he can stay, but it's a permission that Edward can't help feeling relieved to receive no matter how many times he might be offered it. He nods, and although the gesture is still a little awkward and shy, smiles — stands to quietly move to the large windows across the room.

Slowly, he draws blinds and curtains to dim the lighting, and it has an immediately peaceful effect upon the cabin's living space. With that, Edward will move to sit down in an armchair, leaving Thomas at the sofa so he can stretch out as needed, giving the ill man some space to hopefully find sleep.

But he's close — he stays close. And when Thomas wakes, at whatever hour it may be, whether fitfully or after a restful sleep, Edward will still be there.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

no man is an island

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