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 Posted: Fri Nov 17, 2017 8:06 pm
A lazy day made for a rather lazy Priscilla Stratford.
She'd started the morning off by sleeping in, something she typically did when it came to her days off from work. Lunch had been picking through the cabinets and fridge for acceptable items to graze on - leftover takeout, crackers, the remaining Oreos in the forgotten package in the back shelf (how had she missed those???) - and the remainder of the afternoon had involved loafing around the house, taking turns in various rooms. A few hours in her bedroom, dinking around with this and that. A few hours in the bathroom, playing with her hair and the new makeup subscription box she'd just received. Then, as the afternoon dwindled down, she spent the lingering daylight by lounging around on the couch, flipping through whatever magazines she hadn't tossed out yet. Thankfully, most all of her subscriptions had been transferred over to Chase's house (because who would want to read the boring ones sent to his name?) and she had enough fodder to last her until her stomach started growling again.
Glancing at her watch, she huffed. If he knew what was good for him, he'd be home soon - with dinner.
Pulling out her phone, she decided to punch in a sweet, friendly reminder text... just in case.
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Posted: Fri Nov 17, 2017 11:05 pm
It was meal prep day in the Ellis household.
Suri liked to do most of her cooking on one day of the week, save what she made for Chase. It was easier, efficient, and saved her the effort of dishes five nights a week when she had such a simple palate anyway. It meant she didn't have to stutter through every step in her busy schedule to figure out food--she set out her menu for the week, purchased her supplies, and got the work out of the way so she could focus on other things, like work or her physical therapy or research. She'd been in luck this week, the grocery store was having a BOGO sale on red meat, which meant that maybe she'd stocked up on more steaks and ground beef than a single person could ever reasonably eat in a month. There were worse problems to have.
Still, the fact remained that if someone didn't eat well, all of her discounts were for nothing, and so with the leftover vegetables and a pound of ground beef she made an extra shepherd's pie for the Pack House. She knew Chase didn't eat anything resembling a healthy diet as evidenced by the dismal state of their fridge any time she visited, and there had to be some other project of his withering away for lack of any reliable nutrition.
God, she really was starting to sound like her mother. When had that happened?
Suri didn't wait to knock--she'd had a key for ages, and a room even, an open invitation for if she ever decided to be less stubborn about her little apartment. Her hands stacked with a sealed casserole dish, a thick ream of paper, and a bag of cat treats, she inched her way through the front door, setting down her gifts on the nearest available surface to have the hands to close the door behind her. She hadn't seen Chase's car in the driveway, so she knew better than to call out for him. Instead, she leaned against the counter and rummaged in her purse for a pen so she could start writing reheating instructions, as simply as possible without sounding insulting.
Honestly, Chase was hopeless. Hopefully someone else could help him translate.
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Posted: Sat Nov 18, 2017 9:13 am
Prissy had her thumb heading directly for the send button when she suddenly heard the knob of the front door begin to twist. Eyebrows lifted - talk about impeccable timing - and legs tossed themselves over the side of the couch as she straightened up in her seat.
Maybe he'd brought Chinese with him this time - or possibly something from that little bistro they'd just discovered, a week or two ago? If he didn't bring anything, she'd just have to drag him out to treat her to dinner because she wasn't going to suffer through another delivery for the umpteenth time that week...but that would also require getting dolled up, which would mean ---
Her noise immediately wrinkled as she turned to see someone very clearly Not-Chase walking through the front door. Much shorter, much more...blonde and carrying something in her hands that smelled suspiciously of food.
Suri.
She didn't know what Chase - or Labyrinthite, for that matter - saw in the little bland thing. The woman wasn't even completely whole anymore and still he made a point to spend time each week with her, never once asking if Prissy wanted to hang out with the little dullard too. Her. Instead of Prissy.
Talk about being rude.
Rising from the couch, she made a point to ensure her stare was noticed, focusing on the older woman's legs as she emitted an audible hmph, announcing her presence (which had been blatantly ignored, she'd noted). Fingernails grazed the top of the couch as she made her way around it, the saunter now aimed directly for Suri and whatever mysterious dish she'd brought this time.
"Didn't expect to see you here. Did you forget where you'd docked your pirate ship, Captain?"
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Posted: Sat Nov 18, 2017 11:46 am
If only Suri had been so lucky as to come to an empty house.
She jumped a little in the shoulders at the hmph, but deflected the motion into setting down her notes, dry amber eyes settling on the cotton candy project that Chase was so recently taken with. As his second in command, it had never been Suri's place to question his preferences, eccentric and dangerous as they tended to be, but...
...well, he had learned to be especially eccentric in his tastes somewhere in the Rift. She supposed in the absence of the General-Ascendant, he was having to make do.
Everything about her expression pinched in when the other woman approached, from her narrowed eyes to the crinkles in her nose. She smiled, thin like the edge of a blade, but it was more a threat display than anything possibly miming at friendliness. "It's General now, thank you," Suri quipped smartly, not deigning the first half of the comment with a response. Still, her fingers tightened over her ice-cold grip on the pen she held, lines on her jaw betraying that she was clenching her teeth, holding her tongue.
"I'm writing out reheating instructions," she added, quick to change the subject with a vague shake of the notebook in her other hand. "Can I assume you know how to preheat an oven, or should I keep it simple?" She tapped the pen to paper, giving Prissy an expectant and knowing look while she felt like she still had the upper hand.
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Posted: Sat Nov 18, 2017 5:22 pm
The comment wasn't rewarded with anything satisfying, much to the young woman's chagrin. Suri's comment about pre-heating, however, was enough to raise her hackles... of course she knew that ovens pre-heated - they did it themselves, after all! Surely it only took a simple button's press or.. or something.
What did she take her for, an idiot?
"Oh, General now? Well, congratulations." Her voice dripped with sickeningly false saccharine as the taller girl leaned over the counter to get a better look at this meal that Suri was dropping off, "It's about time you caught up with the rest of us."
Making sure her ample chest leaned with her (take that, Susie Homemaker), she tilted her head to pretend to read the delicate lettering that the older girl had already started writing out on the note to Chase, as if reviewing for discrepancies. Or worse, secret love confessions to the boyfriend she knew had a wandering eye.
"I guess it's to be expected, y'know, not being magical and all. Not everyone was born special like a senshi, I suppose."
One hand rose, fingers twisting idly in a curl as pink eyes shifted to stare directly at the guest-who-technically-could-stay-if-she-really-wanted-to-even-if-Prissy-was-against-the-idea-entirely.
The ball has returned to your court, Suri Ellis.
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Posted: Mon Nov 20, 2017 9:14 am
Suri was a simple person who liked simple things. She liked it when people were straight-forward. She liked when her personal boundaries were respected and her achievements were acknowledged. She liked wine in the mornings, whiskey at night, and sometimes the attention of her betters. In the absence of these things, Suri could only think on the things she disliked, a list both longer and more complicated than the first. She disliked senshi, strange and eldritch and foreign. She strongly disliked the edge to the other woman's voice, the stinging cut of her words, the exposition of a body, perfect and whole, that Suri would never have, a tease meant to torture.
It was working, and Suri's eyes frosted over with hatred for Prissy Stratford.
"Yes, it's truly a shame that some of us have to actually work for a promotion, that we can't all float on through as somebody's pet project," she scoffed, turning up her nose. She leaned away from Prissy, taking the notebook and its instructions with her, but left the casserole dish unprotected. It was covered with seran wrap, but looked like some kind of mashed potato concoction, topped with unmelted shreds of an orange cheese.
"As I was saying," she continued, a warning in her voice, a threat. She kept her stare level at Prissy's eyes, cold and narrow, so that her eyes might not be tempted to wander elsewhere. "Everything's already finished, this just needs to go in the oven for thirty minutes. You have to remove the plastic wrap or it will melt. Do you understand?" She fought against asking when Chase would be home--it was no longer his place to fight her battles, least of those the ones she fought with his plaything.
Stupid, petty Priscilla Stratford and her stupid, pretty face. Why did it have to be her?
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Posted: Mon Nov 20, 2017 12:57 pm
Pet project?
How dare she.
"You mean, remove the plastic wrap.... like this?"
Pink nails wasted no time in peeling back the perfectly aligned wrap. It was clearly arranged by meticulous hands attached to a meticulous chef who had everything planned out in a meticulous fashion. The layering was perfect from one end to the other, the wrap failed to have a single wrinkle across it. Even the cheese looked frustratingly perfect in distribution - who did this woman think she was, anyways?
It would have been easy to get a fork from the nearby drawer. Painfully easy, in fact. They were not even three feet away, organized as neatly as could be, probably by one of the cleaning staff since Priscilla neither cared nor knew how to run the dishwasher.
Despite the easy access to silverware, Prissy decided to take another route. Knowing she ran the risk of dirtying up her perfectly painted manicure, a single finger dug itself deep into the center of the dish, directly in the middle of the generously portioned cheese. Scooping up the contents of potatoes, cheese and whatever other frustratingly heavenly smells came from the dish, she proceeded to slide the finger into her mouth and offer herself a taste test of Suri's thoughtful present.
"Mmm. Could have used a little more meat, but it's not bad."
In truth, even as a cold dish it tasted wonderful. It would be over Priscilla Stratford's dead body that she'd actually admit to such a compliment, though.
"Then again, I suppose you don't have much history when it comes to meat related things, do you Suri?" Eyelashes batted, her free hand moving to ball up the discarded wrap and toss it carelessly to the side. "That's why you stay at home cooking meals for other people's boyfriends instead of your own, right?"
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Posted: Wed Nov 22, 2017 7:57 am
Suri watched, eyes thin, as Prissy took to unpeeling the wrap on the dish she'd taken so long to prepare. It was pride alone that kept her mouth shut, choking down the chorus of don't in her throat. She wouldn't give Prissy the satisfaction of a hurt expression, because she didn't know the way Suri's hands shook whenever she worked, how many tries it had taken her to get the mashed potatoes to look like they were spread by an even knife. But for all her steely bravado, she still flinched as the other woman dragged her dirty, skanky manicure through the one nice thing she'd tried to do for another person that day.
This would not abide.
"Everyone's aware of your little meat craving," Suri finally snapped, her cheeks finally starting to hold some ruddy color in defiance of all the white-hot anger she was holding at bay. She bit her lip, forced herself to breathe, and with closed eyes she set down the paper pad and pen. Fumbling with her cardigan, she wiggled free a pair of bobby pins she'd clipped to the hem and set to pulling back her bangs. When she opened her eyes again, they were sharp and cold and furious, looking only at Prissy.
"I need you to understand something, so I'm going to use small words," Suri stepped closer, her voice low but clear. "While it's not something you'd be familiar with, I have responsibilities as a second-in-command. I cook meals for my superior officer because he's recovering from a six month exile and still has dietary restrictions--sorry, he has to watch what he eats because it makes his tummy feel bad." Suri spoke through gritted teeth, her hands clenched into fists. "I get that you feel threatened because you're expendable and just his flavor of the week, but no one else in this god-forsaken frat house knows how to boil water, so it falls on me to make sure that once or twice a week he eats something that isn't made on a conveyor belt."
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Posted: Wed Nov 22, 2017 8:44 am
Priscilla blinked.
She'd expected retaliation. Suri hadn't been blessed with extraordinary amounts of beauty like some people, so dullards were always granted something else in life. Like a witty tongue. Cooking talents. Other things to make up for the fact they had to drag their sorry looking faces through life knowing they'd never be seen as beautiful people.
Still, even as she mentally braced herself for a comeback, the meat craving comment had her cheeks growing pink. It wasn't until she was talking about the General, however, that her eyes grew wide.
Exiled? He'd been exiled?
Had he told someone else other than James about what had happened? How was it that someone like Suri got to know, while he still kept her at arm's length about the situation?
Wasn't she important too?
The idea that Suri had the upper hand only made her flavor of the week jab sting harder. She... she wasn't expendable. She wasn't. She couldn't be - nobody tossed Priscilla Stratford away like a one night stand. Nobody!!!
Everything about her body had tensed, her smirk twisting into a scowl. While one hand balled itself into a fist on the counter, the other rubbed at the edge of her top, nails digging into the thin fabric.
"He doesn't need your mothering and he certainly doesn't need you." Her voice had dropped its charm, growing flat and downright angry. "Chase is a grown man. If he's capable of running multiple companies at the same time as remaining a third-level officer, he's capable of feeding himself."
It was hard not to grit her teeth - Suri could insult her intelligence all she wanted but the second-in-command was going to have wounds of her own to lick, if Prissy had her way. "The way I see it, you've outlived your usefulness. Who was it again, that he called for when he came back? Hm?"
The fist thumped on the counter as she feigned surprise. "Oh, right - me. You're not even a whole woman anymore. You need to be put out to pasture, dear and let someone younger take over with helping him out."
Lips pursing, she glanced around, looking for any more ammo to use. Eyes fell on the ruined dish and she offered a disgusted leer.
"Oh, and you can take your meals and shove it."
She thought about taking like the kitten nicknamed she'd been coined by her lover and simply knocking the casserole dish to the ground. An apt ending to the dish, sending it to the trash where it belonged. Her anger, though, boiled over far worse than any water she'd manage to forget on the stove and a different idea came to mind, one that had the ends of her mouth curling up into a wicked grin.
Reaching into the dish, all five fingers closed in around the lukewarm shepherd's pie and grabbed hold of the squishy, lumpy mess. "Better yet, let me help you with that."
With that, Prissy proceeded to press the contents in her palm against Suri Ellis's face.
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Posted: Wed Nov 22, 2017 10:35 pm
Normally, Suri wouldn't be the sort to have any kind of witty response in the heat of all this hostility--in any other circumstance, the bluster in her face would have blocked out any ability to speak long before it had gotten to this moment. But Suri had long since decided that she disliked Prissy Stratford, and she'd said as much a number of times as she paced the tile of her kitchen floor, mostly informing her cat of what terrible taste Chase had and how it was doomed to go down in flames. But that had been over a year ago, and Suri had done over a year's worth of pacing in front of her cat, so she had any number of specially crafted insults, just for the occasion. They functioned as her mental sword and shield, at the ready to deflect whatever Prissy might have to say for herself so she could make another jab, twist another knife, make her hurt for the inconvenience of existing so loudly and in Suri's face.
Both of these withered to nothing in her mind when Suri heard the phrase outlived your usefulness. Her eyes widened, lips parted softly, and for a moment she leaned back against the counter, suddenly no longer big enough to occupy the space she'd commanded just a second before. There was no such thing as a pasture to be put out to in the Negaverse, there was only getting repurposed or destroyed, and Labyrinthite had promised, he'd promised, but he'd been gone for so long--
Suri was brought back to reality by the sensation of mashed potatoes, lukewarm and smooshed from her cheek to the bridge of her nose. She blinked, crinkling her confused expression at Prissy, too befuddled to actually provide a human response to the disparate sensations her brain acknowledged. When she remembered how, she felt the rage pour down her chest, scalding and all-consuming, and her eyes snapped to Prissy, suddenly in laser focus.
She didn't so much become Zircon as the General shredded her way out from under the glamour of domestication and knitted cardigans, the itch in her veins screeching for blood. She reached for a fistful of cotton-candy hair and when she found her mark, she wrenched with every fiber of her being, until reality sputtered and they were in dark crystalline halls where no one would be concerned with screams.
"That's it," Zircon growled, stepping forward to shove Prissy backwards into what looked like it had once been a banquet hall, with high ceilings and jagged crystal chandeliers over the vast open floor. "Power up, you bubblegum b***h, I've had it up to here with your self-entitled s**t." She nearly stumbled forward when she called the behemoth of her weapon to hand, still unused to the sheer weight of the boomerang that nearly beat her in height.
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Posted: Thu Nov 23, 2017 11:40 am
There were several scenarios that passed through Prissy's mind as she smeared the contents of Suri's present towards her boyfriend.
One scenario involved ending up painting the room with the ruined meal.
Another that crossed her mind had Suri running off, crying with her figurative wolf tail tucked between her legs.
Being grabbed by the hair and yanked into the Negaverse by a furious General had not crossed Priscilla's mind, however, though from the tight hold around her soft, gorgeous curls, she was too busy shrieking to mentally process what was happening until bare feet felt the cold, freezing marble of the castle's flooring.
Hands flew up to immediately assess the damage as Zircon released her hold. It didn't matter that her fingers still had the remains of the food on them, not when there was a chance that the vile woman had ripped off any of her beautiful locks of hair.
The challenge was tossed out, a gauntlet on the ground. Fate must have seen this coming, for Prissy (for once) actually had her pen tucked away on her person.
"Sure thing, sweetie," she cooed, satisfied with the state of her head before her hand dipped down the neck of her shirt. Nestled in the safe keeping of her bra (because some of them had enough chest to keep things safe and secure there), her henshin pen emerged. "Don't think I'll go easy on you just because you're handicapped, though."
Taking several steps back, the pen rose up and words were called out. Prissy hadn't transformed in front of anyone but a small few - it was an intimate transformation that Zircon surely didn't deserve to see, but Dia could only hope that the fact she harbored a special starseed only amplified the other woman's obvious jealousy issues.
Heels clicked as she landed in place, arms extended out in the same pose they always fell to when she finished. The pen disappeared into the void of her subspace, Eternal Dia's hand quick to rise up and collect a different sort of bauble.
A single hard candy dropped into her palm, the senshi rolling it between her fingers as her other hand beckoned witchy General Boomerang closer. What did the old hang think she was going to do - let her slap her with that heavy, awkward weapon?
The corrupt grinned at the thought. Some people just lacked finesse with their attack methods, clearly.
"I don't have all day, come on with it. Some of us have boyfriends to go home to - I'm sure he's missing me already, in fact."
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Posted: Sat Dec 02, 2017 10:48 pm
Zircon had forgotten how to think. Or perhaps she was thinking too much, violently adrift in her own freezing hatred for Priscilla, for Dia, for Chase's preferences, for her own selfish attempts at being useful. She hated that a small piece of her could watch the lights and ribbons surrounding the other woman's henshin with some semblance of awe, and she hated that even through the glamour, there will still potatoes on her face, a pale smudge across traitor red skin. She fought for the moral high ground amid her racing thoughts, but her dignity was too small a voice to speak against the indignation that rang between her ears. What Zircon hated the most about the entire situation was that at a single phrase, under the cuffs of her uniform she could feel the hospital bracelet, the weakness she'd beaten out of her body for over a year. Somehow, she'd given enough of her vulnerabilities away to be read so easily by this pink-haired harlot, who somehow knew all of her buttons and where to push.
She wouldn't allow it. Zircon was a general and she relinquished control to no one except her sovereigns.
"I don't give a <********> about who you think you're going home to," Zircon snapped, her voice ragged and splintered. She reached behind her for the tethers of her weapon with clumsy fingers, bent like talons, clawing for some kind of leverage against fabric and stone. "This isn't about your boyfriend, you stupid skank, it's about you pretending that you have an opinion that ******** matters." Had Chase told her about the hospital, the promise to keep her safe? Her ribcage felt at the same time hollow and full to bursting, like if she didn't scream she would be torn asunder by the opposing forces.
"I was a captain before you even had a henshin pen," Zircon spat, each hiccuped inhale twisting her shoulders into a tighter and tighter knot. "You are nothing but White Moon used goods, you will never hold an actual rank, you're just a stolen weapon with a face, you're useless." Zircon assessed the space between them with wild and wounded eyes, then stretched and swung, the heft of her boomerang flying for Dia with a shaky wide arc.
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Posted: Tue Dec 05, 2017 11:06 am
Haughty, Dia could deal with. Egotistical, sassy comments tossed back and forth from person to person like a badminton's shuttlecock across a net. It was easy, comments and comebacks that came second nature, like a reflex. The key to surviving boarding school was being the girl with the quick wit and silver tongue because everyone had money and none of it could buy your way out of a cat fight.
But there was something off about this fight that had her on edge, heels almost anxiously shifting her weight from one leg to the other. Zircon wasn't being petty, she was being brutal and the digs she was making went far beyond superficial levels. No, there was an anger that had been dormant within the Negaverse's newest General that Dia had only scratched the surface of before and she was now realizing the grave mistake she'd made in baiting the shorter woman as much as she had.
"Is language really necessary to get your point across, General?"
It almost felt pointless to try to interject comments, not when the woman was on a verbal rampage, trying to rip her apart from her bow to her pearled anklets. She insulted her intelligence, her powers, her place in the Negaverse and while the younger woman's jaw clenched - a pitiful attempt at a retort forming in the back of her mind - Zircon struck first.
There wasn't time to think. The boomerang swung out and with only having a split second to make a decision, the candy senshi dashed forward. Heels clicked against the stone floor in an attempt to make it out of the boomerang's pathway, the pink haired girl not fully realizing the consequences of her decision.
It wasn't until she glanced away from the flying weapon and forward that it dawned on her that Dia was running straight towards the woman who looked prepared to rip every pink curl out of her skull.
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Posted: Sat Dec 09, 2017 12:38 pm
The boomerang swung wide, loping around the corrupt senshi with slow whorls until it battered into the back wall with a crash. Zircon was less focused on the catastrophe of her weapon as she was on the blur of pink sprinting her way, almost too fast to comprehend. If she'd been thinking, she might have been cautious of how fortuitous the move was, expecting a feint or a trap somewhere between all those dark ruffles. However, the only think Zircon thought of was the thrill of her sudden opportunity, and instead of reaching out to call for her weapon she reached out for Dia instead, tangling each of her hands in a turbine of curls and pearls.
Dia couldn't have known, but Zircon came from a time before corrupts were just pampered pets, before lieutenants were given pamphlets and safe training. She'd been given a folded piece of paper and an order to survive, and in the absence of anything to protect her she'd learned how to be a weapon instead. Labyrinthite might have favored Dia, but he'd trained Zircon first, taught her how to be slippery at range and deadly up close. With her recent promotion to general, her weapon was perhaps now the biggest part of her ruse as an officer--while the enemy looked at this awkward hunk of crystal, they forgot that the killer was the petite woman who threw it.
Fistfuls of pink hair in each hand, Zircon's expression split into an unpleasant and toothy grin, more snarl than smile. Satisfaction rang in her ears, her chest, her fingertips, her wild eyes, and for the first time in weeks she felt completely at ease. She wondered if Labyrinthite always felt this powerful, this in control, and in that moment felt like she'd gained some deep and profound understanding about their shared general.
It was a thought she filed away for later--in the moment, Zircon hummed a contented note of approval as she tore the corrupt down with a wrench of both hands, the motion effortless. "You absolute tart," Zircon chuckled, and she shoved the other woman until they were both on the ground, pinning her down with a superior strength. "Tell me who needs to be put to pasture now. Hmm? What makes you so special if you can't even win against someone who isn't whole?" The general was too busy gloating to worry about restraining the senshi's hands--what would she even do, ruin her manicure? Zircon already had her pinned. She'd won. She hadn't outlived her usefulness, no one was going to take her away. She'd won.
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Posted: Mon Dec 11, 2017 11:42 pm
The look on the senshi's face was nothing short of horrified as hands reached out to catch her in her dash, aimed directly for the perfectly coiffed curls that surrounded her head. The sheer weight alone of the hair was a frustrating burden in itself but having an angry General, wielding the strength that came with her status, grip onto the strands only served to prove how dire of a mistake she'd made in directing her path towards Zircon.
It didn't matter that she was taller than the other girl or that she held magic that the Plain Jane lacked, the fact of the matter was that Zircon overpowered her by a great deal and the thought alone absolutely, unabashedly terrified Sailor Dia.
Her head came crashing down onto the marble within seconds, her body tossed around like a ragdoll, despite her attempts at scrambling away from the older woman. The vicious leer did nothing but amplify her desire to get the heck away, but the force in which the blonde held her pinned down left her with no escape route as her skull continued to throb against the cold surface of the Negaverse.
Zircon was certifiably mad as far as Dia was concerned and the notion that her own words could come back to haunt her in the form of being put to pasture had the pinkette panicking. With that panic came the only solution her cotton candy colored head could think of, dark gloves rising between the two of them not to try to push away her enemy, but to form a soft cupping motion as a dozen or so candies materialized between her palms.
As badly as she wanted to tell her that she hadn't won yet - because she hadn't - Dia at least knew better than to incite the deranged woman any further. So instead, clutching her candy mines close to her chest, the younger girl let out a soft exhale as she prepared herself for the inevitable blow that she too would share in.
Finally, letting go of the hard, jagged pieces of candy between the two of them, she whispered hoarsely, "Rock Candy Explosion!"
AMItotic Eternal Sailor Attack Rock Candy Explosion Sailor Dia conjures a handful (10-15) of small, rock-like candies, which she throws onto the playing field (radius and aim based on her personal throwing skill, no further than 10-15 feet and thrown in a frontal, cone direction). Once landed, these rock candies become magical mines, which trigger upon touch. Once triggered, they erupt into an explosion of sound and enough force to send an opponent back at least a few feet. Pain/result would be no more than superficial wounds and bruises. After 45 seconds, any untriggered mines disappear.
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