Post by Aiko on Sept 11, 2015 19:54:55 GMT -8
WORLD WIDE REGISTRY
THE BASICS
FULL NAME:
Leia Marciano
Leia Marciano
DATE OF BIRTH | AGE:
March 3rd | 26
March 3rd | 26
PLACE OF BIRTH | CURRENT CITIZENSHIP:
Naples, Italy | Japan
Naples, Italy | Japan
FACE CLAIM:
Tifa Lockhart Final Fantasy VII
Tifa Lockhart Final Fantasy VII
UNIT NAME/POSITION:
Shattered/Fighter
Shattered/Fighter
UNIT PARTNER:
Keiko Nakahara
Keiko Nakahara
NAME LOCATION:
Along the outside of her upper left arm.
Along the outside of her upper left arm.
GENDER:
Female
Female
MARITAL STATUS:
Complicated
Complicated
OCCUPATION:
Bartender (owner) at Final Haven, Informant, Bloodhound
Bartender (owner) at Final Haven, Informant, Bloodhound
ALIAS:
Played by aiko
Played by aiko
PERSONALITY
[attr="class","fbidossiertxtboxy"]Leia Marciano is anything but a girly girl. Not afraid to get her hands dirty, she can usually be seen as one of the boys. Open and friendly and will openly flirt with almost anyone, no matter their sex, just for the fun of it, Leia is confident both in herself as well as her sexuality. She always has a ready smile and laugh for everyone, even the serious individuals. But while she’s being upbeat, Leia is observant of everything she sees and hears; believing that even the smallest, most insignificant thing could be useful in the future. Using her bar as a main source of information, Leia is one of the most sought after informants within the Unit world; a title she is extremely proud of and takes very seriously.
Leia likes to know as much as she can about everything and because of her background, she is fluent in Italian, French, English, and Japanese. She knows some German, but only the few words that Kyros will use now and again. She can be very stubborn when she wants to be, and will usually refuse to give up even when there appears to be no other option. She is highly protective of her sacrifice, and will do anything for her.
Alias: Forsaken
Alias Location: Tattooed just beneath her left breast.
Orientation: Bisexual
Dreams/Life Goals: “They have been met.”
Language: Italian, Twin Secret Language*, English, Japanese, French, German
Hobbies: Playing Violin, working with computers, hacking, reading
Likes: The colors Black, Grey and White, Alcohol (mostly the hard liquors), computers.
Loves: Her sister [in a non-sibling sense] Kamijo [even if it doesn’t seem like it], The smell of Jasmine, powerful rain / thunderstorms, Rock Music, Teasing Kamijo and Keiko.
Dislikes: Naive and stupid people, being idle, not knowing everything about any given situation, People touching her sister.
Fears: Failing her sister in battle, enclosed spaces, that her sister will choose Kamijo over her.
Strengths: Her determination and willpower, protective over those she cares about.
Good qualities: Observant, photographic memory, loyal, protective
Bad habits: Possessive,(especially of her twin) Tends to drink too much when stressed, Stubborn.
Other: Leia and Keiko have taken on the Unit name “Forsaken” in relation to their Bloodhound work. Leia has the name tattooed beneath her left breast, and isn’t afraid to show it to prove who they really are. This is the name that they are infamous for, and the name that most of the unit world knows them by. After all, Reputation is everything.
Leia likes to know as much as she can about everything and because of her background, she is fluent in Italian, French, English, and Japanese. She knows some German, but only the few words that Kyros will use now and again. She can be very stubborn when she wants to be, and will usually refuse to give up even when there appears to be no other option. She is highly protective of her sacrifice, and will do anything for her.
Alias: Forsaken
Alias Location: Tattooed just beneath her left breast.
Orientation: Bisexual
Dreams/Life Goals: “They have been met.”
Language: Italian, Twin Secret Language*, English, Japanese, French, German
Hobbies: Playing Violin, working with computers, hacking, reading
Likes: The colors Black, Grey and White, Alcohol (mostly the hard liquors), computers.
Loves: Her sister [in a non-sibling sense] Kamijo [even if it doesn’t seem like it], The smell of Jasmine, powerful rain / thunderstorms, Rock Music, Teasing Kamijo and Keiko.
Dislikes: Naive and stupid people, being idle, not knowing everything about any given situation, People touching her sister.
Fears: Failing her sister in battle, enclosed spaces, that her sister will choose Kamijo over her.
Strengths: Her determination and willpower, protective over those she cares about.
Good qualities: Observant, photographic memory, loyal, protective
Bad habits: Possessive,(especially of her twin) Tends to drink too much when stressed, Stubborn.
Other: Leia and Keiko have taken on the Unit name “Forsaken” in relation to their Bloodhound work. Leia has the name tattooed beneath her left breast, and isn’t afraid to show it to prove who they really are. This is the name that they are infamous for, and the name that most of the unit world knows them by. After all, Reputation is everything.
HISTORY
[attr="class","fbidossiertxtboxy"]According to Science, the average person’s memory starts at about five years old. To say that I am an average person would be a gross understatement. I remember those first five years with perfect clarity. I remember the way my mother’s cooking would fill the entire house. I remember playing and coloring in my father’s study just to listen to the sound his fingers made when they hit the keys of the typewriter. But most of all I remember Her.
My Twin.
My source of happiness and reassurance, of friendship and belonging. My other half in so many ways.
I remember her laugh, her first words and mine. I remember how she would always take my hand when she was scared and later when we were no longer sharing a bed, I remember how she would slip into mine just to take my hand.
My sister was my entire world. The only person on the planet who knew me. Who understood me without me ever having to utter a sound.
I also remember how happy we were. Of course our parents had their favorites; she was Father’s as I was Mother’s. But we were happy. Those five years were the happiest years of my life. Until that night. The one that changed everything.
The details were and still are a little fuzzy. I remember the screech of tires, the sound of my mother’s scream. But worst of all I remember being in pain. The second worst pain of my life. And being so, impossibly cold. But more than that, I remember the feeling of my sister’s hand being ripped from my own.
It wasn’t until many years later that I found out what had actually happened. A drunk driver had miscalculated a light and was driving too fast to stop. He had hit the side my mother and sister were on at such a speed that we were pushed into oncoming traffic where we were then hit head on by another car.
My parents had died instantly. My sister….
I never saw her again after that night. That was also the night that those nine letters appeared on my arm.
Maybe it was because it had been a busy night. Maybe it was due to the fact that my sister and I had arrived to the hospital at different times in different vehicles. All I remember was being confined to a bed, being told again and again that no one knew who my sister was. That there were hundreds of children and it was too much to try and weed her out. I tried everything I could think of… even sneaking out of my room to try and find her. I never did.
Eventually, I fell into the foster program. Nearly a month after the accident I was adopted to a couple who had tried, and failed, to have a child of their own. They were nice, but I remember hating them.
I hated them for taking me away, I hated them for refusing to listen when I pleaded with them that I had a twin. Even if there was no record of me having a sibling, they should have listened to me. And they didn’t. But worst of all, I hated them for squashing every effort I made to find a twin that, as far as they knew, didn’t exist.
I hated myself for not being able to find my sister.
I never forgot her, even when days bled into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years. I was fortunate that the couple who adopted me knew what my so called ‘Tattoo’ meant. That they had found me before someone else had.
They told me what it meant to be a part of a unit, and explained the world of Sacrifices and Fighters. It was obvious which part I played, and as soon as I was able, they enrolled me in the Septimal Moons Academy.
It was apparent that while I was still child, I had no power, no ability to find the one who meant so much to me. So I focused on my studies, on my training and education knowing that if I did well, if I succeeded then that would make finding my sister that much easier. Not to mention that it was at school, at the fighter academy where I met him.
Malik Tanaki
I had gotten a sort of reputation for myself in the school, the fighter that could be paired with any sacrifice and win. I was unbeatable if only because I had memorized every spell I could get my hands on. I studied and practiced and it was only until I met Malik, until the moment I was paired with him, only then did I realize I had been going about it all wrong.
I had believed that being a good fighter meant being the smartest, the fastest. At taking down your opponent before they had time to react. I had no care for my sacrifice, no real drive to obey orders. And most of the sacrifices I had been paired with at the time didn’t care to give me orders. Everyone knew that I knew what I was doing. All they did was sit back and let me do what needed to be done.
Malik was different.
He was a visitor, having already graduated, and had a notorious reputation as a Bloodhound. Someone who hunted down rogue units and brought them to justice. Or ended them if they resisted. Malik never stayed long, but every time he did, he always seemed to be interested in the fighters’ training. And after several visits, he finally took an interest in my training personally.
His match was my first loss of many. Not because I couldn’t cast the spells, but because I had no idea how to take orders. It infuriated me. How he would hold me back, command me to cast a defensive spell instead of an offensive one. While I was one to power and speed to overwhelm my opponent, he used skill and strategy.
“Power means nothing if the one you are bound to protect is at risk.”
It took me nearly two years to understand what he meant. But it was within those two years that he had taken all my training, all my knowledge and perfected it. The Italian branch of Septimal Moons was known for their specialty in Bonds. In creating, strengthening, and yes, even breaking. Every fighter was pushed to their limits, tested beyond measure to ensure that once we did find our sacrifice, our other half, that we would not only be able to defend our bondmates from harm, but to guarantee that our bond, the string that tied us to our sacrifices would not be easily broken.
I thought I had understood what it meant. The temporary bonds forged within the training grounds were merely that. Temporary. Mere shadows of what we would feel whenever we met our other halves. But nothing, no amount of study or training could have ever prepared me for what came next. Not even Malik’s vague warnings.
I had just turned eighteen when it happened. I was in a battle, winning of course when all of a sudden my chest erupted into flames. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think other than the pain.It robbed me of my senses, of my thoughts. And it was only after three grueling hours, when the pain finally ebbed (not gone completely, but manageable) that I learned the truth. I had all the physical systems of congested heart failure, but none of the physical evidence.
It was Malik that had realized this. He had been visiting, watching my match when it had happened. When the doctors were left confused and stumped, it as he who came in and solved the puzzle.
“I think it’s time you learned the truth.”
The reason why I felt the pain, but had no physical evidence of what created it was because I wasn’t actually having a heart attack.
My sacrifice was.
Malik explained that I had found my Sacrifice when my name appeared. That coming into contact with my other half was really the only way I was able to fight the way I did. And the best news of all, Malik told me that he knew exactly where she was.
So as soon as I was able I did all the research I could, stumbling across the very thing that I had longed to find.
My sister. My other half in so many more ways than I ever believed possible. My twin was my sacrifice, and she had nearly died due to a heart attack.
So I left for Japan as soon as I could, letting Malik guide me to the hospital and more specifically the room where she was staying in. It was easy to slip in, really. The security was nothing like it was in Italy.
Seeing her again, after thirteen years… There are no words to properly describe what I felt in that moment. She looked nothing like me. Of course we had the same hair, same lightly tanned skin. But her face, the bones that made her cheeks more defined, her nose more narrow. Everything about her screamed ‘innocence’. It exuberated frailty and weakness. And yet I sensed such a strength within her. A fire that refused to be snuffed out.
I fell in love with her that day. Standing there in a freezing hospital room, at the base of her bed unsure if she would even remember me the way I remembered her. The silence then had been all but tangible. And for the first time in my life, that I could remember, I was terrified. Scared shitless, afraid that she would look upon me and not remember who I was.
“I know how crazy this must sound but I’m your sister. Your twin and…. also your fighter.”
I’ll admit it wasn’t one of my best speeches. I had not grown into my silver tongue quite yet. And it was only a few moments later that I met the man who would become a constant in my life whether I wanted him to or not.
Kamijo. The elder, adoptive brother of my sister.
Of course to Kamijo and Kento (my twin’s adoptive father), I was a stranger. I had no ties to their daughter and sister, no reason to be within her room when they had no idea who I was. And it was only because of Malik (who had taken on the identity of Kyros lygari by then) that Kento agreed to not have me arrested.
A blood test was taken, proof that I was who I said I was. After that, well… Life became really interesting. My adoptive parents were shocked to say the least, but thankfully they seemed to understand. I was allowed to stay with the Nakahara’s only after telling them I refused to leave Keiko’s side, and proving I meant every word.
Kamijo and I… well… You could say that our relationship was kind of rocky. He was overprotective of my twin, I was overprotective of my twin. Much to our shame, we tend to drag Keiko into the middle more times than either of us cared to count. But somehow we made it work. We weren’t a perfect family, not by a long shot, but annoying Kamijo quickly became one of my favorite past times.
It was no secret how much he cared for Keiko. And while that was all well and good…. well… it wasn’t really natural. Not that I can talk, I mean… she is my twin sister. And the feelings I have for her, even to this day are not widely accepted by the general public. And yet, I think that’s something that Kamijo and I agree on. We both care for Keiko and simply want what’s best for her. Which, heh, is also one of the reasons why we butt heads so much.
But I’m getting off topic.
When Kento suddenly passed…. well, that was the hardest, most painful thing I had ever had to go through. Not because he was my father, but because he was Keiko’s and Kamijo’s. Because their pain had become mine. Even in the five years we had lived together, enough time had passed for us to become bonded.
Kamijo threw himself into his work, as if possessed. I thought I would like it. If he was always working, that meant that Keiko and I had more time together, on our own. I thought that was what I wanted if only because now Kamijo was no longer in my way.
But a year later, when a motorcycle accident nearly took him as well….. The pain I felt, the fear and terror and anxiety about losing yet another part of my family… The feelings were not only Keiko’s, they were mine as well. Kamijo had become such a deep seeded part of my family, without my knowledge, that the thought of losing him was not only agonizing, it was crippling.
My sister and I were shocked however when we found his name, realizing what he was. And somehow, instead of being afraid of what he was, of knowing that my sister now had two fighters willing to sacrifice themselves for her safety, I remember being relieved when we were finally able to take him home.
Our arguments only grew more numerous after that, Kamijo’s and mine. But I look back on them fondly. It was because of him that I found my calling. Well, him and Kyros. I opened up Seventh Heaven two weeks after Keiko and I turned twenty four. A little bar that was bankrupt and sinking fast. Not only was it a means to support the family I had weaseled my way into, but it also served the purpose that Kyros seemed to have cooked up all those years ago when we had first met.
Not many units come into my bar, but I have ears everywhere. And as much as I love talking to people, listening to what they don’t say is something that I have grown exceptionally good at. As far as my family is concerned…..
My relationship with my sister and the man who is my brother is so many ways… There aren’t a lot of people who understand it, much less accept it. But that really isn’t their place is it?
After all, two is always so much better than one.
Hair: Straight, long Black hair that reaches her mid back
Ears and Tail: “They used to be black.”
Eyes: Brown
Height: 5’9
Build: Thin and toned despite her obvious curves. Her arms are more defined due to lifting the kegs at the bar.
Race/Ethnicity: Italian
Blood Type: A+
Parents/Guardians: Isabeau Geraldi (birth mother, deceased), Paulo Geraldi (birth father, deceased), Ariana Marciano(adoptive mother) and Raphael Marciano (Adoptive father)
My Twin.
My source of happiness and reassurance, of friendship and belonging. My other half in so many ways.
I remember her laugh, her first words and mine. I remember how she would always take my hand when she was scared and later when we were no longer sharing a bed, I remember how she would slip into mine just to take my hand.
My sister was my entire world. The only person on the planet who knew me. Who understood me without me ever having to utter a sound.
I also remember how happy we were. Of course our parents had their favorites; she was Father’s as I was Mother’s. But we were happy. Those five years were the happiest years of my life. Until that night. The one that changed everything.
The details were and still are a little fuzzy. I remember the screech of tires, the sound of my mother’s scream. But worst of all I remember being in pain. The second worst pain of my life. And being so, impossibly cold. But more than that, I remember the feeling of my sister’s hand being ripped from my own.
It wasn’t until many years later that I found out what had actually happened. A drunk driver had miscalculated a light and was driving too fast to stop. He had hit the side my mother and sister were on at such a speed that we were pushed into oncoming traffic where we were then hit head on by another car.
My parents had died instantly. My sister….
I never saw her again after that night. That was also the night that those nine letters appeared on my arm.
Maybe it was because it had been a busy night. Maybe it was due to the fact that my sister and I had arrived to the hospital at different times in different vehicles. All I remember was being confined to a bed, being told again and again that no one knew who my sister was. That there were hundreds of children and it was too much to try and weed her out. I tried everything I could think of… even sneaking out of my room to try and find her. I never did.
Eventually, I fell into the foster program. Nearly a month after the accident I was adopted to a couple who had tried, and failed, to have a child of their own. They were nice, but I remember hating them.
I hated them for taking me away, I hated them for refusing to listen when I pleaded with them that I had a twin. Even if there was no record of me having a sibling, they should have listened to me. And they didn’t. But worst of all, I hated them for squashing every effort I made to find a twin that, as far as they knew, didn’t exist.
I hated myself for not being able to find my sister.
I never forgot her, even when days bled into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years. I was fortunate that the couple who adopted me knew what my so called ‘Tattoo’ meant. That they had found me before someone else had.
They told me what it meant to be a part of a unit, and explained the world of Sacrifices and Fighters. It was obvious which part I played, and as soon as I was able, they enrolled me in the Septimal Moons Academy.
It was apparent that while I was still child, I had no power, no ability to find the one who meant so much to me. So I focused on my studies, on my training and education knowing that if I did well, if I succeeded then that would make finding my sister that much easier. Not to mention that it was at school, at the fighter academy where I met him.
Malik Tanaki
I had gotten a sort of reputation for myself in the school, the fighter that could be paired with any sacrifice and win. I was unbeatable if only because I had memorized every spell I could get my hands on. I studied and practiced and it was only until I met Malik, until the moment I was paired with him, only then did I realize I had been going about it all wrong.
I had believed that being a good fighter meant being the smartest, the fastest. At taking down your opponent before they had time to react. I had no care for my sacrifice, no real drive to obey orders. And most of the sacrifices I had been paired with at the time didn’t care to give me orders. Everyone knew that I knew what I was doing. All they did was sit back and let me do what needed to be done.
Malik was different.
He was a visitor, having already graduated, and had a notorious reputation as a Bloodhound. Someone who hunted down rogue units and brought them to justice. Or ended them if they resisted. Malik never stayed long, but every time he did, he always seemed to be interested in the fighters’ training. And after several visits, he finally took an interest in my training personally.
His match was my first loss of many. Not because I couldn’t cast the spells, but because I had no idea how to take orders. It infuriated me. How he would hold me back, command me to cast a defensive spell instead of an offensive one. While I was one to power and speed to overwhelm my opponent, he used skill and strategy.
“Power means nothing if the one you are bound to protect is at risk.”
It took me nearly two years to understand what he meant. But it was within those two years that he had taken all my training, all my knowledge and perfected it. The Italian branch of Septimal Moons was known for their specialty in Bonds. In creating, strengthening, and yes, even breaking. Every fighter was pushed to their limits, tested beyond measure to ensure that once we did find our sacrifice, our other half, that we would not only be able to defend our bondmates from harm, but to guarantee that our bond, the string that tied us to our sacrifices would not be easily broken.
I thought I had understood what it meant. The temporary bonds forged within the training grounds were merely that. Temporary. Mere shadows of what we would feel whenever we met our other halves. But nothing, no amount of study or training could have ever prepared me for what came next. Not even Malik’s vague warnings.
I had just turned eighteen when it happened. I was in a battle, winning of course when all of a sudden my chest erupted into flames. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think other than the pain.It robbed me of my senses, of my thoughts. And it was only after three grueling hours, when the pain finally ebbed (not gone completely, but manageable) that I learned the truth. I had all the physical systems of congested heart failure, but none of the physical evidence.
It was Malik that had realized this. He had been visiting, watching my match when it had happened. When the doctors were left confused and stumped, it as he who came in and solved the puzzle.
“I think it’s time you learned the truth.”
The reason why I felt the pain, but had no physical evidence of what created it was because I wasn’t actually having a heart attack.
My sacrifice was.
Malik explained that I had found my Sacrifice when my name appeared. That coming into contact with my other half was really the only way I was able to fight the way I did. And the best news of all, Malik told me that he knew exactly where she was.
So as soon as I was able I did all the research I could, stumbling across the very thing that I had longed to find.
My sister. My other half in so many more ways than I ever believed possible. My twin was my sacrifice, and she had nearly died due to a heart attack.
So I left for Japan as soon as I could, letting Malik guide me to the hospital and more specifically the room where she was staying in. It was easy to slip in, really. The security was nothing like it was in Italy.
Seeing her again, after thirteen years… There are no words to properly describe what I felt in that moment. She looked nothing like me. Of course we had the same hair, same lightly tanned skin. But her face, the bones that made her cheeks more defined, her nose more narrow. Everything about her screamed ‘innocence’. It exuberated frailty and weakness. And yet I sensed such a strength within her. A fire that refused to be snuffed out.
I fell in love with her that day. Standing there in a freezing hospital room, at the base of her bed unsure if she would even remember me the way I remembered her. The silence then had been all but tangible. And for the first time in my life, that I could remember, I was terrified. Scared shitless, afraid that she would look upon me and not remember who I was.
“I know how crazy this must sound but I’m your sister. Your twin and…. also your fighter.”
I’ll admit it wasn’t one of my best speeches. I had not grown into my silver tongue quite yet. And it was only a few moments later that I met the man who would become a constant in my life whether I wanted him to or not.
Kamijo. The elder, adoptive brother of my sister.
Of course to Kamijo and Kento (my twin’s adoptive father), I was a stranger. I had no ties to their daughter and sister, no reason to be within her room when they had no idea who I was. And it was only because of Malik (who had taken on the identity of Kyros lygari by then) that Kento agreed to not have me arrested.
A blood test was taken, proof that I was who I said I was. After that, well… Life became really interesting. My adoptive parents were shocked to say the least, but thankfully they seemed to understand. I was allowed to stay with the Nakahara’s only after telling them I refused to leave Keiko’s side, and proving I meant every word.
Kamijo and I… well… You could say that our relationship was kind of rocky. He was overprotective of my twin, I was overprotective of my twin. Much to our shame, we tend to drag Keiko into the middle more times than either of us cared to count. But somehow we made it work. We weren’t a perfect family, not by a long shot, but annoying Kamijo quickly became one of my favorite past times.
It was no secret how much he cared for Keiko. And while that was all well and good…. well… it wasn’t really natural. Not that I can talk, I mean… she is my twin sister. And the feelings I have for her, even to this day are not widely accepted by the general public. And yet, I think that’s something that Kamijo and I agree on. We both care for Keiko and simply want what’s best for her. Which, heh, is also one of the reasons why we butt heads so much.
But I’m getting off topic.
When Kento suddenly passed…. well, that was the hardest, most painful thing I had ever had to go through. Not because he was my father, but because he was Keiko’s and Kamijo’s. Because their pain had become mine. Even in the five years we had lived together, enough time had passed for us to become bonded.
Kamijo threw himself into his work, as if possessed. I thought I would like it. If he was always working, that meant that Keiko and I had more time together, on our own. I thought that was what I wanted if only because now Kamijo was no longer in my way.
But a year later, when a motorcycle accident nearly took him as well….. The pain I felt, the fear and terror and anxiety about losing yet another part of my family… The feelings were not only Keiko’s, they were mine as well. Kamijo had become such a deep seeded part of my family, without my knowledge, that the thought of losing him was not only agonizing, it was crippling.
My sister and I were shocked however when we found his name, realizing what he was. And somehow, instead of being afraid of what he was, of knowing that my sister now had two fighters willing to sacrifice themselves for her safety, I remember being relieved when we were finally able to take him home.
Our arguments only grew more numerous after that, Kamijo’s and mine. But I look back on them fondly. It was because of him that I found my calling. Well, him and Kyros. I opened up Seventh Heaven two weeks after Keiko and I turned twenty four. A little bar that was bankrupt and sinking fast. Not only was it a means to support the family I had weaseled my way into, but it also served the purpose that Kyros seemed to have cooked up all those years ago when we had first met.
Not many units come into my bar, but I have ears everywhere. And as much as I love talking to people, listening to what they don’t say is something that I have grown exceptionally good at. As far as my family is concerned…..
My relationship with my sister and the man who is my brother is so many ways… There aren’t a lot of people who understand it, much less accept it. But that really isn’t their place is it?
After all, two is always so much better than one.
Hair: Straight, long Black hair that reaches her mid back
Ears and Tail: “They used to be black.”
Eyes: Brown
Height: 5’9
Build: Thin and toned despite her obvious curves. Her arms are more defined due to lifting the kegs at the bar.
Race/Ethnicity: Italian
Blood Type: A+
Parents/Guardians: Isabeau Geraldi (birth mother, deceased), Paulo Geraldi (birth father, deceased), Ariana Marciano(adoptive mother) and Raphael Marciano (Adoptive father)
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