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 Posted: Tue Dec 06, 2011 6:51 pm
  owner of moribund'swalker and ears of knockturn alley'the spider'   The sensation of being thrown down to the ground, but never feeling the hard, reverberation impact, lifted the hairs of Chord's skin. She shrieked with proper surprise as the magic of the woman's wand lifted her but those initial screams bore to a cry that ripped away at skin and attempted to drill into the brain through the ears. She twisted and wriggled and thrashed like a desperate fish as her piercing voice sounded like that of a harpy. She cried and kicked, her dress flipping around her thin and angled limbs but was instantly silenced at Lillith Rich's beginning words.
Chord lay as if on her stomach in the upholding grip of the enchantment. Deathly still and quiet, lungs not even rising to show signs of life. The impatient silence swelled into the wounds her shrieking had created and the seconds ticked past as dust rose from its bed on the tops of cupboards and shelves.
Then her mouth open, crazy tones ripping from her throat as they had before, flaring a fire and spitting with venom of insanity that caused the aura of the miserable, dank tavern to waver. "I know what the coffins whisper!" she began, "What the gravestones foretell and what the boards and nails have heard from foul lips! The funeral of the king, the ash of the queen, they live in my hair! They slither with their snakes into my ears and tell me all you are afraid for me to know!"
Her fingers curled into her shallow, clammy palms and her teeth clicked against each other, tongue flaring with a wildness as her head threw itself madly from side to side. Possession teeming in the insects of her existence.
"I work for the ravens my dear, I work for Hades and I am his dog! I will give you that boat ride, frail siren, and you will taste the flames you have stirred! Eat the dust of your own bones and inhale the stench of your rotting skin!"  
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Posted: Tue Jan 10, 2012 7:25 am
Ambition can creap as well as soar. 
Lilith Jessabelle Rich
Lilith, as frail and shriveled as her pale and porcelain body depicted, suddenly grew to treacherous heights with more force and strength than ever thought could be mustered. But even as she advanced, she could feel the might of her magic wavering, and the shrieks of the banshee woman reverberated with more trepidation than imagined. Lilith pursed her lips, narrowed her eyes, but even so, a warm trickle of blood began to seep past her lips and crawl down her chin like a spider from its web. ”Like bloody hell you are,” Lilith barely murmured as she flicked her wand to one high end of the vicinity, and the speed of which had hurled the craven witch into the boarded up doorway lurking under the shadowy talons of the caged establishment. The petite blonde briskly swirled on her heel to face Juliet Wood.
”Let’s go,” she had advised, and all around her, the room seemed to be spinning in her eyes. The floorboards beneath her rattled from the might of her broken magic, and even the furniture seemed to be shaken away from her, her own bones couldn’t be coaxed to quell their stir no matter the efforts. But all she could do, right now, was to stare. Stare at intricate locks, the rusted nails and hinges, and rotten wooden boards that creaked and breathed to life under the infamous Lady Chord.
  
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Essy ze Ninja Vice Captain
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Posted: Tue Jan 31, 2012 12:02 pm
❥ŞĦÅΜŰŞ❥ ☠ §ჳწჳ☠ ☠Born into a Slytherin Family☠ ♠  ♕ ♕Shawn stepped into the room, eyes brought and watchful. He was not one for games being a griffin at heart, but he knew the rules. Dark eyes darting around the room, he saw the famous lady Chord, the woman he was looking for. His letter was in hand from Remington Nott. The message he did not know, as he would not dare peak. The blood dripped from his to dry lips as he winched, cracking them. He was apprehensive do to only knowing Lady Chords infamous reputation. His letter for her was in Hand, but he was not going to speak to her until he was noticed. ♕ ♕ Lived my life as a PROUD GRIFFIN! ♠
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Posted: Tue Jan 31, 2012 1:08 pm
owner of moribund'swalker and ears of knockturn alley'the spider'The crazed woman had been standing against the public-facing side of her bar for twenty one minutes. The seconds had been counting off in her head since the very moment she had her eyes blazed with the flash of a sight not physically placed before her. The flashes were not uncommon, and were often so brief it was only an emotion, a feeling or a sense that they gave off that told her to her events of the future rather than what he eyes hesitated to pick up in their shock. She had been cleaning her filthy glasses at the time, toe of her pointed shoe knocking into a groove of the rickety wooden flooring. Hand moving mechanically to wipe the grey and yellow cloth into every inch of the glass, making it even more disguising. Once the vision had flashed before her, her actions only faltered the heartbeat length it existed for before returning into the rut of those exact movements repeated in waiting. The seconds ticked and all her combined thought was concentrated on the pearls of sand sliding down the hallow of her mind's hourglass. Each grain falling with slower and slower speed as they slipped past the foreboding edge of the slendered glass.
It was not the sound of the door opening and the steps on the floor that made her look to her tavern's newest arrival, but rather the promise of smelling his blood. The sweet metallic scent tickled her nostrils and ran a chill down her fingers four seconds before the young boy entered the room, her caged eyes already on him. She finally stopped her dead-like wiping of the glass and the numb tapping of her toe and stared at him. Seconds still slipping by in her hourglass, the metal bases of it shuddering with anticipation. She allowed him to look at her, with the traces of fear that everyone carried when seeing her or anticipating to see her. That was what her vision had shown her; a new ribbon of fear. One of orange color, like fire or diluted blood. She could see it wrapped around his thin figure, a dainty piece of fabric that was threatening to constrict and pull out the life from his body the longer the stared at him.
Twelve second had passed since he entered her lair, she commended his bravery for standing as still as he was. Her mouth opened very slowly, eyeing his dry lips and seeing the drop of blood forming in between the wasteland's ripples. Her tongue smacked off the top of her mouth, and just as it lay itself down on its bed lined by yellow teeth, her voice ripped out and screeched.
"Message Bringer! You come from a family of toil and hate and you harbor it within yourself!" The glass that had been held in her hand was thrown down and smashed into shards of threatening dust on the floor. Chord opened her arms hawkishly, as if extending her wings.
"It lingers in you like the scale of a body; in capable of being burned. It is Hot! It is of Hell! A piece of Eden!" Suddenly she ran at him. Eclipsing the distance lingering between them with only three pounding jumps between her bared teeth were close enough to rip out his throat. Arms still outstretched and her shoulder blades cracking and snarling at him.
"You are the HellHound, you ripped from Hell and took with you some of its fire! Your eyes reflect the death of it, the burning coldness of it. Show me your eyes! Before I eat your ears."
The screaming words echoed in the tavern, making whatever heads occupied the place turn and making the very dust rise in anxiety and terror as her spine chilled with her arms returning to her side. Her mouth lay open, panting hot breath onto his neck and seeing his adam's apple tremble. One finger slowly rose up to his lips, hesitating before touching and wiping the dry blood away. It pooled on the tip in glorified red and she looked at it, tilting her head left and right. Six seconds.
She brought her finger to her own now-closed lips and touched them. Smearing a small streak on both dry petals like a war tattoo. Her caged gaze returned to him and her teeth suddenly reappeared, biting like ravage dogs at her blood-tinted finger. Tearing the skin and leaving a wound that leaked her own blood. She pulled it away from her face and lowered onto his chest.
"The HellHound now lets the Serpent in the Wheat ride on its back. Give me his message." she whispered as she spread the rest of the her own blood onto his chest, watching the fabric bloom. 
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Posted: Tue Jan 31, 2012 1:28 pm
❥ŞĦÅΜŰŞ❥ ☠ §ჳწჳ☠ ☠Born into a Slytherin Family☠ ♠ ♕ ♕Shawn did not know how to react as the womnm if you could call the insane woman that, personaly Shawn thought Lady was a much better term, it took away some of the humanness. Humaness that the Lady lacked. This Lady looked at him as if she had always known he was coming and she had just been waiting. The mear idea scared him...was she a seer? He woundered. Then she spoke, her very voice sending chillls down his back and making his eyes wide. He did not know how to react...was this a test for him, or an real mission? She seemed to make his question everythng. The letter in his hands trimbled as did the rest of him.
Was she saying that his family was full of hate and he was a hell hound? Oh how her words seemed to worm them sef into his very being, making him gasp and forget to breath. She told him his hate was unburnible..a fact that he had known but been trying to run from. He hated that he could never out run his family and it's darkness..as he had always been trying. He looked up when she demnded to see his eyes, to entranced by her whicked spell, her deadly insite into his very being. She had called him it again..the hellhound..what did it mean. He felt that he almost understood...but not quite..it was just out of his grasp. She touched his lips, taking his blood. He watched in horror and yet peace as she smeared it on her own lips. He did not know how to react, his face showing it. She then bit her self..putting her blood as if in some dark curse or blessing..or just a trick, Shawn could not tell what was on this Ladies mind. Then she spoke again and he listened. He handed over the letter, eyes wide, showing their whole self and the deep dark part of him that he had tried to kill..the Slytherin part of him. ♕ ♕ Lived my life as a PROUD GRIFFIN! ♠ The Letter Chord, The Medicine Man hath strung his heart, Gold fields of wheat and rye. Hung, and dry. Who am I? Who am I? And, how much am I?
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Posted: Tue Jan 31, 2012 1:57 pm
owner of moribund'swalker and ears of knockturn alley'the spider'Her bloodless hand rose up and her fingers pinched the side of the folded paper on which inked words were practically leaking. Chord could almost feel the anxiety and strange fascination fixed in the very fibers of the note that would have told it her was from Remington Nott if she was not already aware.
She held the parchment still, hanging over the chasm between their two presences; keeping it light enough in her touch that he still kept it in his, yet stiffly enough to send her threat through him and up, rattling his bones. "A name has its tale to tell," she whispered even lower than before, addressing the frightened confusion she could see in his dark eyes, "Sometimes it is so simple that our perceptions of what it could mean, blinds us from what it does mean." The very second the last breath of the word slithered over her broken teeth, she ripped the parchment from his possession and turned herself in a spiral before him. Jeering and letting out a high-pitched screech of a cry before she ran off to the nearest round bar table and turned it over. It crashed onto the floor and she pulled it up by its legs, turning the table top to face the filthy ground and the dust-chocked leg of it up to her and to be exposed. Chord opened the note carefully, smoothing out the crinkles and ripples of haste she had created in her violent action. Placing it gently and almost ceremoniously onto the one leg of the table, blowing dust away with her rancid breath. Reading the inked words and symbolized meaning from behind the bars of her self-inflicted cage.
A smile breaking on her face, baring his horrendous teeth and letting wisps of her madness free into the air. A rumbling laugh bubbling in her throat. She turned the parchment over and pulled a frayed feather quill from the seam of her dress. Coins and lint and a broken top falling out from their hiding place following it as she brought it to the paper and began to write.
A heart given away years ago,
let sail out to sea willingly
cannot be strung.
Only drowned.
You are neither golden nor stone. You slither in the trenches alongside your fellow rats.
They are your food, but they are your companions.
All for one, and one for all." Take it to the Serpent." she commanded in a serious, low tone. Throwing the quill away from herself as she pointed the final punctuation and turned around broodingly. Dark clouds clinging to her as her previous shrieks now evaporated and left her dark, stern and cold. Insanity still strung around her arms as she walked away from the letter and the boy, up the stairs to the second level and out of sight.
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Posted: Tue Jan 31, 2012 2:10 pm
❥ŞĦÅΜŰŞ❥ ☠ §ჳწჳ☠ ☠Born into a Slytherin Family☠ ♠ ♕ ♕Shawn was in a deep confusion and his fear ws back as the trance ended. He winched as the table was turned on it's very back and the Lady went about the reply. Nodding he waiting, taking the letter as it was given and watching her asend the staires, waiting until she was truly gone befor he bloted from the shop. ♕ ♕ Lived my life as a normal Griffendor. ♠
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Posted: Fri Feb 03, 2012 9:31 pm
 These songs in my head: Go away world
Oh what turbulent emotions: Distraught...a tad bit drunk
The spirits that stand with me: ...my demons... How long had he been sitting here in the corner of this place? He didn't remember, nor did he remember how he got here. The albino had been trying to get to his twin's new apartment somewhere down Knockturn Alley. The fog he was in however didn't aide in his ability to walk at all. Thinking about it now, Xerxes was probably still at the ball...at least someone would have had a wonderful night. Somehow the candles that lit the windows had called to him and in moments he was inside Moribund's. A small booth tucked into a corner, a nice dark one that he could get lost in. It was at some point after the first drink that he managed to unclench his bloody hand. Pulling a handkerchief from his coat pocket he quickly bound the wound and cared not for the light stinging in his palm. Distractions aside Xenos planned to wait here till Xerxes would probably be home.
It had to be well into the evening...how close to midnight was it? Was it the same night even? The young man wasn't certain he just knew that the mug was empty and all he had to do was place down money to get more of this numbing liquid. Xenos had never drank in his life...well at least not this. Once or twice at home when a party was going on with his family to keep an eye on him. Here there was no safety net, no one to say 'it's time to go home'. With every drop of the sweet amber liquid on his tongue a memory tried to swirl to the surface. With every gulp it slipped away. He didn't want to think of that face, of the way sunlight looked in his jet black locks. His body didn't want to recall what it felt like to have those soft hands in his own. How many more cups would it take to forget him? Even if just for tonight he needed to forget.
For a long moment Xenos paused and stared at the quarter of the liquid left in his mug. He could see his reflection in shinning liquid. It was strange and distorted like a shade staring up at him. Or was it he who was being stared down at? Xenos couldn't decided on that one even as his mind continued to ponder it. Well ponder it as well as the alcohol soaked cells could manage. The part of him that wasn't drunk yet, the side that still spoke sense, screamed at him. This wasn't what he should be doing. He should be at Xerxes taking the time to think over what happened. Then maybe then he could fix things. Could he though? No he knew that he couldn't. Those pretty green eyes were lost to him now and he didn't have a right to look at them again so soon.
Forgive me now 'cause I have been unfaithful Don't ask me why 'cause I don't know So many times I've tried but was unable This heart belongs to You alone
Forever Yours and Yours alone
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Posted: Fri Feb 03, 2012 9:49 pm
If money is the root of all evil...
"You are really taking those down, what is the matter?" she said in the sweetest tone she could muster. "May I join you? perhaps distract you from your troubles?" She said with a smile as she sat across from him. With a wave of her hand she ordered another round. Laying down the last of her money she turned back to Xenos. "I know your look all to well, Ive worn it many times in my life. " she said sliding the full mug towards his hand. "Good choice of drink. Helped me out during those times very well" Her eyes looked at his ragged face. Oh how much he had been through this night. If she played her cards right then perhaps she could get him in bed and , fingers crossed, get a bun in the oven. To put it gently."Can I get a name? My name is Delilah" she said softly using as much of her womanly charm as she could.Saying she was desperate would be an understatement.
Then I must be the flower that sprang forth from it.
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Posted: Sat Feb 04, 2012 6:59 pm
These songs in my head: What did I just do?
Oh what turbulent emotions: guilty
The spirits that stand with me: ...my demons... Who was this? They seemed to have appeared from now where next to him. A soft voice...dark hair...pretty green eyes? No it wasn't Dante, his chest didn't curve like that. He let her join him and most of her words slid right around him. Was she speaking English? Good lord how much had he had so far? Delilah...that was her name. She had asked him something....what was it? Xenos took a long drink from his mug as his mind tried to work. Ever so slowly the cogs of his mind cranked to life and registered what she had asked. "Xenos." Was all he managed. The 's' was slurred and what was left of his logic told him that wasn't good. What was good anymore really? The albino didn't know but he really didn't care right now.
When had her hand got into his hair? It felt good those long nails scratching ever so lightly along his scalp. Xenos didn't know that either...for most of that night he didn't know much. Glimps rolled through his mind like he was coming too at odd moments. The glint of gold as he put money on the table more then enough. A soft hand pulling him towards the stairs...stumbling a bit as they climbed. The look of surprise on the pale face when he pushed her onto the closed door once inside. Smooth skin on his own. The sting of the wound on his hand. Warmth and the sound of her voice calling his name. Wait was that hers? Or was that His? Xenos didn't know nor did he care. He was loosing himself and he knew it. That voice was silent in his mind and for several long hours he didn't care what happened as long as she stayed right where she was.
In the early hours of the morning he found his mind again. Through the left over fog Xenos was awoke by the stinging of his hand. Really he needed to get that looked at. Sitting upright his eyes fell on the pale form next to him. For a brief moment the albino could have pretended that it was someone else but he knew better. The swell of her chest, the curve of her hips, the softness of her hair. That was not who he had dreamed it to be. What had he just done? Did it matter? The one who held his heart no longer was his to hold. More then a bit disgusted with himself, Xenos slid out of the bed. In silence he collected his clothes and for a moment he considered just leaving. But what if....with a sigh he went back to the bed. A few short spells later there was a note on the side table with his name and a note addressing that if she needed to get a hold of him to do so. Feeling disgusting the albino went to the window and shifted into his other form. He refused to be caught doing the walk of shame. Now to just fly to Xerxes house without crashing....what had he done?
Forgive me now 'cause I have been unfaithful Don't ask me why 'cause I don't know So many times I've tried but was unable This heart belongs to You alone
Forever Yours and Yours alone
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Posted: Sat Feb 04, 2012 7:11 pm
If money is the root of all evil...
The room was silent and the bed warm. It had been such a while since she had felt so good waking up. And last night OH last night. With as many men as she had been with, none could compare to what happened for those few long hours. A few times she had been confused when she heard him whisper a different name. Her own mind had been in a drunken fog as well and so her memory of it had faded by now. She stretched gently and turned around, a soft weak smile on her face. The smile faded though when she found that she was alone. Curses began to form on her lips till she saw the note. Oh what a gentlemen!! Yes, she picked a perfect candidate for her dark intentions. Beaten down by lost love and drunk to the core yet still a gentlemen. The odds of finding such a catch were rare. Now, to check if their long wonderful work had produced her "bun".
She took her time cleaning and changing then put the note in her bag. If it were not for the slight limp she would have been skipping from the room. The downside of this is if she did have something in there she'd need to stop with the alcohol. No need to have a deformed child right? If her long hard search was over now, drinking would not be difficult to kick.
Then I must be the flower that sprang forth from it.
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Posted: Wed Feb 22, 2012 9:08 am
Well she’s not bleeding on the ballroom floor
Just for the attention
Because that’s just ridiculously odd.
Well she sure is gonna get it
Here’s the setting, fashion magazines line the walls now
The walls line the bullet holes  Maybelline Johnson
Treading through dark waters, deep and ominous, Maybelline had cast the beacon of her wand out before her, its soft glow an illumination beneath the thunderous night with black clouds etched of charcoal strewn across the midday sky. The chill of the ornery and desolate alleys cascaded, never ceasing, it was an endless maze for her to play in, to unravel. The mysteries that lurked within were enough to enchant her and even in this darkness, her light would shine through, but nothing had baited her more than the aspect of unfurling the truth. But where to start?
Her feet had carried her here, into this shrunken inn, a deranged sanctuary from the plight of rain defiling the earth. Her gaze searched, and only curious, quiet eyes, few and far between the shadows, met her. She pursed her lips, and pulled the thick velvet hood of her cloak closer around her shoulders, shielding away their leers. Quick, and heavy steps led the half-blood towards a seat at the bar.
Well she didn’t choose this role,
But she’ll play it and make it sincere
So you cry, you cry, give me a break,
But they believe it from the tears
And the teeth right down to the blood at her feet ╔════▄▀▄▀▄▄▀▄▀▄════════════════════════╗ Location: Moribunds Desires: Mystery Troubles: Biting Chill ╚════════════════════════▄▀▄▀▄▄▀▄▀▄════╝
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Essy ze Ninja Vice Captain
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Posted: Sat Mar 10, 2012 11:04 am
owner of moribund'swalker and ears of knockturn alley'the spider' Chord held herself at a painful arch of her back behind the bar's counter. Caged eyes staring at the rickety, boarded ceiling of her tavern as her hands cleaned the glasses mindlessly with no true affect on the tarnish found on them. However, at the rack and crash of her tavern's door being both opened and burst by the winds of the rain outside, she turned with sharp focus and screeched at the woman entering. Glass lowered quickly tot he safety of the table where all the others were found ad the crazed woman's back arched down and skeletal fingers locked together in twisted knots. "The Blackbird rises from the ashes of the rain and comes in mud,"she whispered in thin tones as she arched even deeper, hidden eyes darting madly between the other customers of her service, "to find a tale, woven from rumour. Glass shards!" Snatching the glass once more in her pale, cracked and yellowed hand, she returned to cleaning it. Eyes now almost naturally on it and stance that of a normal beings. Ease and relaxation and responsibility evident in every unnatural fibre of her until the new woman sat herself at the bar's front.
"What is your poison, milady?"
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Posted: Sat Mar 10, 2012 1:08 pm
   LOCATION: - - - MOOD: - - - OBJECTIVE: - - -The low, velvetty whistle that accompanied Hunter's entrance was an old tune he had heard his father hum for years. Cheery, yet ominous, it echoed off the darkened walls as he approached the bar with eager eyes and a casual stroll. His exterior hardly resembled a wizard of the common era, his expensive suit-and-tie ensemble freshly ironed, the sleeves of his white dress shirt rolled up neatly around his elbows and the tie hanging loosely around his finely sculpted neck.
Both hands perched lightly in the pockets of his pants, his facade gave off a pleasant expression in response to the damp atmosphere. Eyes of cobbled coal danced over the scattered faces in the darkened tavern, eventually lingering on a petite woman stationed behind the counter. She was much prettier than your average spider, but she undoubtedly played the part.
Heaving himself atop one of the faded wooden stools several seats away from any other customer, his underfed hands gripping the edge of the bar, Hunter's smile never faded, but stayed smug as he assessed the woman's stature.
Suddenly Nott's words replayed in his mind unwillingly, and his lips twitched at the thought of this woman's abilities. "...don’t show weakness… That spider doesn’t need to see it, she can smell it…" There wasn't any weakness to be sensed in any way, but the thought was enthralling none the less. He had an overpowering feeling that this woman wouldn't need any formal introductions, nor any explanation for why he was here.
His light-hearted tune strummed to a stop, a means of catching her attention, if not dragging it away from another woman on the other end of the bar. His eyes shifted to the menu as he waited for her full-attention, and his stomach tightened in response. For a man with the appetite of troll, he surely neglected to feed himself on a regular basis. Hunter decided to take advantage of this opportunity while he had it, but chose his poison carefully in response to an overpowering smell in the air that hinted at a cross between health code violations and a lack of cooking skills. "Fish n' chips, please, love," he began in a thoughtful, yet intoxicating lull. "And a generous pint of Ogden's, while you're at it. I'm going to need my strength if you plan on sending me down the road less traveled," he added, his voice picking up speed and vigor as the words—borrowed from Zeek's letter to Remington—flowed flawlessly from the fork in his tongue. He winked conspicuously across the bar, his expression more at ease than necessary as he brushed his fingers along the eave of his chin.
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Essy ze Ninja Vice Captain
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Posted: Wed Mar 14, 2012 3:12 pm
Well she’s not bleeding on the ballroom floor
Just for the attention
Because that’s just ridiculously odd.
Well she sure is gonna get it
Here’s the setting, fashion magazines line the walls now
The walls line the bullet holes Maybelline Johnson
She had maintained an undoubted weariness the moment the click of her heel had echoed within the threshold, and even long after, now that she had perched herself upon a barstool coincidentally amidst the center of the row aligned beside the marred wooden veneer of a bar and then gently lowered the deep crimson hood down upon her back, letting a sea of waves cascade with it. There was a curiosity aspiring within her, prompted and teased by the unsettling crypt of entrance that she had been met with.
The caged woman behind the bar, stroke rag against glass with diligent, meaningless strokes, perhaps out of habit, or perhaps, mental stability. ’But that speaks for itself,’ she mused, a brow risen to humorous delight as greased gears turned. Sizing the woman up and down, and pondering her best course of action, Maybelline never so much as rose her lips by the time another presence had been made known with a casual grind of hinges from the shifted door behind. But she didn’t turn to look, not yet; only the generous sable curls would greet him as she raised a finger to her lip pondering herself. ”Red currant rum,” she decided on a dime after tapping a manicured finger against pouted painted flesh and with a hoarse voice, scratchy and unused, but the liquor would soon fix that.
Moments after the newest pair of footsteps had halted from their haunt and a dim silhouette flashed in her peripherals, Maybelline finally veered a glance over her shoulder. She immediately did not recognize the man, a bittersweet intrigue, but it wasn’t until she had scarcely overhead the nonchalance several seats away from her did her intrigue begin to peak. A curious choice of words, ’could be old friends,’ but somehow, her heart of Gryffindor just simply didn’t believe it.
Well she didn’t choose this role,
But she’ll play it and make it sincere
So you cry, you cry, give me a break,
But they believe it from the tears
And the teeth right down to the blood at her feet ╔════▄▀▄▀▄▄▀▄▀▄════════════════════════╗ Location: Moribunds Desires: Mystery Troubles: Biting Chill ╚════════════════════════▄▀▄▀▄▄▀▄▀▄════╝
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