Prompt Post 2
Welcome to the second round of the_eagle_kink .
Please see the rules before posting.
Please check our delcious account before prompting.
Happy Kink, everyone.
~CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS~
Please see the rules before posting.
Please check our delcious account before prompting.
Happy Kink, everyone.
~CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS~
- MORE MOD NOTES: Alright guys I know this fandom is really into historical accuracy and all that jazz but here's the thing. This is a KINK MEME and therefore historical accuracy is not ( Read more... )
He looked up at Aquila, wondering how he would fare with his injured leg, but Aquila was already moving, sliding to the roof edge, then twisting, gripping it with both hands so that his body hung down, from there the drop was halved and he let go, falling the final distance. Still he lurched to the side as he landed, face tightening in pain and Esca rushed to support him.
Liathan grabbed the packs and they moved as quickly as they could down the darkened street. The cries and shouts of pursuit echoing behind them.
Liathan had to slow his pace to stay with the other two, and the slowness had him on edge, wishing he could leave them and sprint off into the darkness. He shifted the packs on his back, eyeing the shadowed darkness of the street, before turning his feet back towards the other two.
They picked a direction at random and set off. The town wasn't big enough to get truly lost in, which excluded the possibility of hiding and lying low. They needed to leave soon, before the entire town was roused and they were pinned within.
Liathan, at the front, was the first to reach the end of the street. It opened into the main square and he skidded to a halt, spinning on his heel. He turned and ran back to Esca and Aquila.
"The centre of the town is that way." He pointed the way he had come. "We need to turn."
He looked beyond them, seeing the lights as their pursuers, now armed with burning torches, began to spill out of the Inn.
They scanned the street frantically.
"There!" Ecsa said, pointing at the narrow gap between two houses.
Liathan struggled through the passageway, Esca fitting easily, dragging Aquila along beside him. Aquila's face was pale, but he bit down on his lip and made no sound to betray the pain in his leg.
They shuffled along further, edging out into a parallel road as their pursuers began to run up the street they’d just been in. They ducked and held their breath, thanking each of their Gods as the passage they had taken was overlooked.
Then they were up and running again. Liathan reached for Aquila's other arm and they half carried him between them, moving faster this way. Soon they caught sight of the town wall, its dark shape cutting off the street.
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"This won't work." He told Esca. "Take him." And he let Esca take Aquila's weight.
Then he took the packs and slung them over the wall, hearing the thump as they landed on the other side. He glanced about as he stripped off his heavy tunic. There was no sight of pursuit yet, but he could hear them shouting nearby.
He bundled his fur in his hands, then, taking one step back, leapt forwards, using his momentum to walk up the wall, and using the furs to protect his hands as he gripped the sharpened stakes at the top.
He took a second to catch his balance, then, settling on the fur, leaned down, reaching for Aquila with both hands.
Between them -- Esca providing a step and Liathan gripping Aquila's hands, they were able to pull him upwards. Aquila gripped Liathan's forearm's strongly. His hair sticking to his forehead at the pain and exertion.
He scrambled up, the stakes ripping his tunic as he dragged himself to the top, and then he was on the furs beside Liathan, turning to lowering himself down the other side in the same way he had on the Inn's roof. The thick muscles of his arms corded and stood out as he swung himself round.
He dropped to the ground and Liathan watched him crumple, wincing at the sight. He glanced back at Esca.
"Go, I'm fine." He waved at Liathan, and Liathan leapt down beside Aquila.
He squatted to check, Aquila was panting, but still conscious, and Liathan raised his head to look out at the land. The tension in his chest eased. They were out of the town now, ahead of their pursuers. No one would follow them out here in the darkness.
The land sloped sharply away from the battlements, then rose smoothly as it entered the woods. The sky was still dark, though the stars provided a muted light.
Liathan glanced abut for the packs, finding them rolled to the bottom of the slope, a little way away. He glanced back at Aquila who had raised himself until he was sitting, back resting against the wall. The faint starlight painted his face strangely, casting the hollows of his eyes into darkness. Liathan felt a sudden bolt of fear at the sight, dream mixing with memory. He remembered seeing Aquila at the river, standing under the eagle. Remembered the men in his dream. Their eyes were shadows.
Aquila's face was angled towards Liathan and after a second he reached out his hand for help standing.
Liathan hesitated. He could run now. Sprint for the trees. There were no ropes on him. No ties to keep him here.
Esca's hands appeared on top of the wall, gripping the furs tightly.
They would be fine together, they had a good hour of darkness to put distance between themselves and the town. He could make for the trees, he could take the road back north. He'd helped them escape, surely that was enough to satisfy honour.
He tensed his legs and time seemed to stretch as it had in the room with Aquila. He stared at him, the way the starlight smeared his face, the steadiness of his palm. He saw, from the corner of his eye, Esca's head appear over the wall, the messy mop of his hair.
And Liathan moved, bounding down the slope, skidding and falling and stumbling back upright. He left the packs where they were and sprinted for the trees, his feet striking the earth hard as his pace lengthened.
He could feel the press of his grandmother's palm against his chest. The skin above his heart felt warm even as the rest of him grew cold without his tunic. But Aquila did not call after him, and Liathan did not look back.
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amazing. holy shit this is amazing. the images and details and I KEEP SAYING THIS but the voices are so clear. UNFF LIATHAN SINGING, the whole fleeing omg I felt the urgency - and the end of this part? YOU HAVE ME ON EDGE spamming f5 like no tomorrow <3
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He caught glimpses of the stars through the branches and unthinkingly used them to orient himself, turning his feet towards the north.
Would they come after him? He glanced over his shoulder, seeing nothing but shadowy trees. At any moment he expected the sky to split, and the hound from his dream to leap down onto him and give chase. He could almost hear it, snapping and snarling behind him, biting down at the ragged dregs of his honour.
He pushed himself to run, brambles scraping at his legs. Despite his missing tunic, he soon grew hot, flushed and heavy with shame and exhaustion. The lingering tiredness from his broken nights and the days spent travelling began to make itself known.
He ran on and on until his limbs were shaking, his mind clearing of anything but the urgent need to keep moving, to flee and flee and run until he could run no more. His steps grew uneven, the undergrowth seeming to grow more tangled, clawing at his feet.
His run became a lurching walk, his heart beating heavily, drawing painful breaths in and out from his lungs. Eventually he gave in to exhaustion and halted, reaching out to steady himself against a tree trunk.
The sky through the trees was not so black as before, a greyish tinge beginning to stain it -- dawn approaching slowly. The birds were shouting out their greetings in a great cacophony of cries.
His legs gave out and he slid down to sit on the ground, leaves and twigs crackling underneath him. He was so tired. Not just his limbs, but his organs, his mind, his heart. He rested his arms on his knees, hands dangling, and lowered his head.
What was he doing?
He saw Aquila in his mind's eye, sitting with his back to the wall. What if he was wrong? What if they had not escaped? What if Aquila's leg had caused him too much pain? Would he have stayed behind and demanded Esca leave him? Would Esca have heeded the order? Liathan thought not. He felt an ugly flash of shame.
Had he abandoned them to their deaths? With his help they could have carried Aquila into the trees, could have escaped as he had. Was the loss of their lives on his conscience? What would the Gods do with him now?
He turned his head up and rested it on the trunk, looking through the branches as they waved and shifted in the breeze, revealing patches of sky between their tangled fingers.
He should not have run.
He should have stayed. He should have ignored that snake voice that told him to flee, that made him recall the embarrassment of his attempt to serve Aquila. He'd sworn. Not in so many words, maybe, but by implication. Sitting on the bed before Aquila. He'd known in his heart what it meant.
A slave was not without honour. He knew that. He should have stayed.
He raised his hands to his face, scrubbing his palms over his features, noting again the clean smoothness of his skin. He ran his hand over his head. He could feel the itchiness of new growth, lingering under his scalp.
What was he thinking, going north? He was no longer a warrior of the Seal People. No longer the Chief's son, nor his grandmother's little hound.
He was nothing, a nobody, without people, without home. He could not go back. He knew that. Why had he run?
He pushed himself to his feet. Aquila would have to kill him, if he returned. A man without honour was one thing, but a slave without honour was worthless. No one would be willing to spend their days watching, spend their nights with a blade in hand, waiting for the betrayal.
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He had no kin in this part of the world and a stranger, alone in the woods, would not be met with welcome by any sane traveller. They'd think him a thief, which he was, he stole himself away. Or a murderer, which, if Esca and Aquila were truly dead...
He closed his eyes, feeling a cold fist close around his heart, and glanced back the way he came.
To leave without even knowing what his actions, what his cowardice had brought upon the other two? He shuddered. He couldn't do it.
He had to go back.
He had to know for sure, even if Aquila claimed his life. At least he would still be alive to do it.
He turned and began to retrace his steps. Moving slowly at first, then picking up speed. The undergrowth was easier to navigate, the path he'd taken easier to backtrack upon, and his exhaustion seemed to fall away as he ran. A flicker of hope, the dream-hound watching in satisfaction.
But eventually the energy his decision had given him began to flag, and his genuine tiredness broke in. He could not maintain a running pace constantly. He dropped into a loping walk and began to study his surroundings.
The sun began to climb in the sky, and soon it was shining down through the trees. The leaves stained the light green, and the woods were bathed in the delicate light. He passed under birds, flitting through the branches, without causing them to call in alarm. Watched rabbits halt and stare at him, their ears sharply pricked. He saw a group of deer far to his right, newborn fawns unsteady on their thin legs, the buck standing proudly beside his doe, its head tilted to watch Liathan as he passed.
Soon Liathan found what he was looking for, and began to turn from his earlier path, following the downturn of the land, and increasing sogginess of the soil. In moments he'd found a small bubbling brook, the water that flowed over the reddish stones biting cold. He knelt and gathered handfuls, bringing them to his mouth and swallowing thirstily.
The water tasted strongly of peat, nothing like the spring near his home, which was young and clear. It seemed only to underline what he already knew, that home was a very long way away.
Still, it was water, and it was fresh. He drank gratefully.
He was hungry too, but the desire to eat was easier to ignore, the meal from yesterday had been hearty and he was no stranger to the ache of hunger.
Some placeless urge was pushing him to move again, to not tarry here by the fresh water. He saw Esca and Aquila's faces in his mind and the memory shoved him back onto his feet, splashing across the stream and curving back to join his path.
Soon the trees began to thin, and he slowed as he reached the edge of the forest, looking about him warily, and listening for the sounds of people.
He edged towards the tree line and looked out towards the town. He could see the wall, stretching smoothly away from him, the wooden posts catching the morning sun.
The breadth of it was uniform, and he did not know where they had climbed over. He saw no packs, and no bodies, and something in him eased for a second, before he realised what little that meant. Their bodies would not have been left by the wall for the carrion. He turned to look towards the road and the gate to town.
It was shielded by the curve of the wall and he began to make his way around. He left the sight of the town and, waiting for a party of traders to pass, slipped from the cover of the trees to join the road. The traffic was not yet the bustle of the day -- the earliness of the hour working in his favour.
He approached the town from the road, trying to hide his wariness. Without his tunic he was less recognisable. There was no reason for the guards to associate the bound slave from the north, stumbling after a horse, with this lone man approaching the town. Still, he knew a man arriving without escort or kin would attract suspicion, and he could not help but tense.
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He kept walking towards the town, slowing as he approached. The guards stared at him warily, hands shifting on their weapons.
He raised his own hand in greeting. And one of the men split from the others and strode a couple of paces forward. Liathan halted with a good space between them.
The man jerked his chin at Liathan. "Alone?"
"Yes." Liathan shrugged. "We were set upon by bandits, my party was scattered, they took everything I had, even the clothes of my back." And he smiled, inviting the joke.
The man did not smile.
"None made it here then?" Liathan asked.
The man shook his head. "No." And then a second later. "Sorry," he added, thawing a little.
Liathan sighed "I had hoped, but... thieves" He shook his head sadly.
The man nodded. "Honourless dogs." he removed his hand from the handle of his blade and swept it across his brow. "We've been plagued by them as well."
"Oh?" Liathan stepped closer,
The man nodded, and leant in, a glint in his eye. "Romans."
Liathan pasted a suitable expression of shock on his face.
The man nodded and continued, "They stole from our inn here, came in disguise, took a room, and stole..." He shrugged. "Gold, I heard it was."
"Gold?" Liathan asked, raising an eyebrow. His scepticism must have been obvious for the man shifted back, frowning.
"Well, so I heard."
Liathan nodded rapidly. "Of course, of course." He waited a second, then, when the man didn't seem inclined to provide anything more, asked, "What happened to them?"
"Oh, they were killed."
Liathan's heart stopped.
"All but three."
It started beating again. "Is that so?" he managed to choke out.
The man glanced at him and Liathan coughed, pretending to clear his throat. He waved his hand for the man to continue.
"They escaped over the wall before light. A party was sent out to track them, they probably have them by now. They left at dawn."
Liathan wasn't confident his face could lie convincingly enough and he turned to scan the tree line, raising a hand to rub his jaw. Once he was sure he had himself under control he turned back. "Best of luck to them then," he said shortly, and he nodded, stepping away.
"You aren't..." The guard gestured towards the gates.
"Oh no, I must search for others who travelled with me. Maybe some yet live."
The man nodded and turned to go back to his fellows. "I hope you find them," he said over his shoulder.
"As do I." Liathan muttered under his breath, turning back onto the road.
He maintained a steady pace until the town was hidden by a curve in the road, and then he began to run.
Esca and Aquila would have headed south for sure. But he had no idea if they'd keep to the road or turn off it. There were tracks leading away from the road every so often, but he had no way of knowing if they were the right ones. His ignorance crawled at his skin.
He passed a few travellers on his way, and each time he stopped and asked about the party from the town. The travellers all pointed south, and he followed, able to at least track them, if not the other two.
He rounded a curve and saw an old man sitting by the verge, his cart piled full of sacks of wool. Liathan greeted him and smiled, trying to contain his nerves.
"Tell me, have you seen a group come by this way? From the town." He pointed back the way he'd come.
The old man tilted his head, thinking. "No, no." He shook his head. "There was a farmer and his wife, with cattle for market, they were going to the next town over. No good for cattle this one." He pointed to his own cart meaningfully. "Good for wool."
Liathan shook his head, he couldn't care less for the buying and selling of wares. "You're sure they didn't come by here? You're sure?"
"Yes." The man nodded decisively. "I'm sure."
"Thank you." Liathan reached out to clasp his hand, then turned back the way he'd came.
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The tracks led him down a long, rolling slope into a valley, and then along the path of a stream, the moss covered ground springy and wet. Eventually the stream opened into a shallow lake.
He was lost for a moment there, scanning the bank frantically until he saw the path pick up again on the far side, and he waded over, the water-logged ground sucking at the soles of his boots.
The path wound then, crossways up the mountain side, and Liathan ignored it, scrambling up the steep rocks, gripping clumps of heather and grass tufting around the boulders to drag himself up the almost vertical slope.
He gained the top, stood, then ducked instantly, settling in amongst the plants and rocks.
He could see the people from town. They were climbing the next slope over. As he watched, the last of them disappeared around the curve of the path. Her body obscured by a rocky outcrop. As soon as she was gone, Liathan straightened, skidding down the slope. He slipped and lost his footing, rolling the rest of the way. Mud smeared his bare skin and his hands and arms were scratched by all manner of brambles and rocks. His rapid fall slowed as he approached the foot and he managed to avoid striking any of the large boulders which peppered the slope.
He dragged himself to his feet and sprinted across the valley, wincing at the suck, suck of his footsteps in the soft mud. Then he was at the other side and scrambling again, pulling himself up and up towards the summit.
This face was rockier, and though he had the skill, it was made difficult by the wet smears of mud that covered almost every part of him. He slipped once or twice, knocking his knees and elbows as he grabbed for another purchase. But the pain meant nothing, the knowledge that he was running out of time spurring him on. He had to reach the others before the townsmen did. He had to.
The slope eventually became too steep to climb and he cast about for a path, finding a narrow strip of ground that wound its way upwards. Sometimes he leapt for a higher rock and levered himself up, arms straining. Sometimes there was no option but to follow the winding path around the next outcrop and he took it at a run, trusting in his balance.
He passed into the cloud as he climbed, the wet mugginess of it sticking to his skin and getting in the places the mud had missed. Still he climbed, higher and higher until finally, with an abruptness that made him stumble, the land levelled.
He could see no more than four paces before him. Everything looked grey, rocks and stones and fog. The air up here carried voices strangely, and he could hear the townspeople, hear the noise of talking so clear that he jerked, expecting to see them appear at his shoulder.
He began to study the ground, moving slowly and carefully over the stones, studying each groove, each smudge of mud on stone. And he began to follow the path they had made. Controlling the urge to run madly forwards until the fog cleared and just hope he was going the right way.
He could not leave this up to hope.
Finally the fog began to thin, and with it grass started to wind its way between the stones. He saw the bent blades and depressions left by feet and he picked up his pace.
The land here sloped down at a steady rate, not quite steep enough to slide down, but still Liathan had to watch his footing, not particularly wanting to stumble and fall directly on top of those he was pursuing.
The marks they left were fresh and his spirits lifted even as the sun began to break through the cloud. Perhaps he would overtake them at the next rise. On the heels of the thought, he heard a shout, one voice high and clear, then two, then three, each raised in victory.
The hunters had found their prey.
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The fog thinned to nothing and finally he could see. The land here curved into a scooped bowl. The depression in the centre carrying an almost circular pool. Rocks and boulders were gathered around the edge of it, bent, blackish trees huddling between them as if for shelter.
It was by those trees that Esca and Aquila stood, weapons out, facing the attackers that sped down the slope towards them. The three closest were the ones shouting, closing the distance between them rapidly. Behind them came two women, and behind them a man Liathan recognised. The great bushiness of his beard seared into his memory -- the slave trader. The metal of his blade glinting in the sun. Two archers stood on either side, taking position on the slopes, their bows aiming directly at Esca and Aquila's armour-less bodies.
Even as Liathan watched, the one closest to him loosed an arrow. Aquila ducking at the last moment, to let it strike harmlessly on the rock beside him.
Liathan moved, running low as he came up to the side of the archer, then leaping up onto his back. He gripped his face and snapped his head the the side before the man could even get a yell out.
Then he was scrambling off him, taking up his bow and aiming across the way at the other archer. She hadn't yet noticed him, and was sighting down her bow, into the hollow. Liathan drew back his string, aiming the arrow and exhaling.
Time stilled, the land around him seemed to fall silent.
He saw the archer draw her bow tight, saw the focus on her face, and then both their arrows were flying through the air.
Liathan's arrow seemed to disappear from his bow and reappear sticking perfectly out from the archer's neck. She crumpled to the ground. Liathan turned his gaze down to the others.
Aquila was locked in battle with the last of the closest three, his face clenched tight and pale with rage. He stumbled on his bad leg, and Liathan's heart leapt in his chest. But Aquila rose again, turning the fall into a lunge. As Liathan watched, his blade sunk home, he ripped it back out, blood gleaming wetly as the man fell to lie beside his fellows.
Aquila stepped forwards and Liathan saw Esca's body, lying still on the ground
Liathan did not remember how he passed the next few moments. Could not recall taking up the archer's blade and storming down the slope.
He did not know if he shouted, or if the three remaining attackers turned to face him.
Did not know how he might have looked all covered in mud and blood from the dead archer, eyes wild and black.
The next thing he remembered was being in the air, the drop from a great, angry leap and seeing exactly the path his blade would take. Seeing the shocked, terrified stare of the woman below him.
And then he was crashing into her, his sword stabbing into her flesh. He tore the blade out, blood-spray hot against his face.
The battle seemed to snap back into reality around him. Aquila was clashing swords with the last woman. The trader was between Liathan and Esca. Liathan charged forwards, ducking to slice at his legs but the trader was there to meet him, snarling viciously and shoving him back. The thickness of his arms straining under his tunic.
Liathan rallied and leapt forwards again, striking and stabbing in an insane flurry of blows. The trader had strength and skill, but Liathan was lit by madness and the trader could not withstand the onslaught, finally faltering and moving his blade, too slow.
Liathan plunged his sword forwards, blade parting cloth then flesh as it sunk into his chest.
The trader gasped, blood draining from his face, his skin suddenly pale under his beard, his eyes wide and shocked as the life slowly drained from them.
Liathan pulled his blade free and spun. Ready to meet the next attacker.
But there were none. Just Aquila, listing to the side a little, but with his blade held steady; and Esca, lying on the ground.
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Liathan stared at him confusedly for a second, before finally grappling with his emotions and starting to think clearly once more.
He stepped back, and then dropped his blade. Raising his blood stained and weapon-less hands.
Aquila let his sword point down, then he went to Esca, raising him carefully onto his lap.
He brushed the hair back from Esca's brow with painful tenderness. "Esca, Esca," he repeated his name, clutching him tightly. Esca did not move. Liathan felt his knees give way, a black cloud seeming to descend over the three of them.
Esca opened his eyes. Liathan stared in shock as Esca blinked, then coughed, body shaking. His face tightened in pain. He blinked again then focused on Aquila, staring up at him. Aquila's face was blank with shock, and he started when Esca raised his hand to his cheek, leaving a bright smear of blood on his skin.
Liathan forced himself to remain still, trying to get his breathing under control. Shaking with relief and adrenaline from the battle.
Finally the two broke apart and helped each other to their feet. Esca's thigh was red with blood, but the arrow that had lamed him was nowhere to be seen, it must have passed clean through.
He turned to look at the dead and only then did he see Liathan. His face went utterly white for a second and he swayed. Aquila grabbed him tighter, and, seeing where he was looking, began speaking rapidly, shaking his head.
Esca thought he had helped their attackers, Liathan realised, and he scrambled to his feet, hands outstretched. "No, no," he said hoarsely. "I was not, I- I came back."
Esca stared at him, then swallowed roughly, still gripping Aquila for support.
"Why?"
Liathan stared back, eyes flicking to Esca's leg.
"You need treatment-"
"Why!" Esca shouted, the words echoing off the slopes.
Liathan stared at him, breathing shallowly.
"I was a coward. I ran from you. Like a coward. I ran from you both." He found the weight of Esca's gaze to heavy to bear and he focused on a point beyond his shoulder.
"I am an oath breaker, A craven. Without honour."
He was panting, the words dragged up from the very pit of him.
"I had to try to... I could not live... I came to..." To fix it. He could see the hound from his dream, hovering at the edge of sight.
He took a step forward, dropping to his feet before them and raising his head to bare his neck.
"Kill me." He looked between them. "I don't deserve to live."
The painful symmetry of the moment was not lost on him. And he hated that he had brought so much shame on his own shoulders.
Aquila looked down at him, understanding his actions if not his words. Esca moaned and Liathan's eyes cut to him, seeing him sway against Aquila, hand pressing against this wound. But his eyes fluttered open again, dark as they met Liathan's.
"Swear to me," he said, and his voice was inhumanly harsh. "Swear you will never run again."
Liathan forced the words around the block in his chest. "I have nothing so swear on."
Esca's gaze was painful. "Swear on your son."
Liathan's blood turned to ice in his veins.
His son, whom he had killed for betraying his honour. His own son, who had died for a lesser crime than Liathan had now committed.
He shook his head sharply. "I cannot. I must die, I-"
"You ran from us!" Esca interrupted him. "You forfeit your honour, everything..." He paused and sucked in a breath, lines of tension appearing on his brow. Aquila said something but Esca shook his head, eyes snapping open. "... It's ours. To do with as we will."
Liathan could 't look away from him. "Yes," he breathed.
"Then swear it."
"I swear," Liathan said, "I swear. I'm yours."
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So um, needs more work, clearly. I'm going to take a short break to plot before getting back to the post-a-day format, so part two will hopefully be starting on the weekend.
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OMG JUST - Esca is so fucking fierce and Liathan made me shed some tears. Such a perfect way to tie up the first part.
INTRIGUE. VIOLENCE. EVENTUALLY SEX.
You already had me hooked and then this, well, damn. I may faint again from happiness. <3!
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Your descriptions are vivid and playful at the same time because a majority of the focus has been from the Seal Prince's POV. The novelty behind this is fantastic and you've done a great job of presenting everything in a way that really draws the reader in. The emotional development though sometimes sparse when combined with the descriptive action of the plot, is nevertheless so heart-wrenching that it creates a great balance and I thoroughly enjoyed that interplay. The characterization of Esca and Marcus feels spot on and I must praise you for drawing in the bitterness of the circumstance Liathan is in with his growing sense of purpose. The interactions feel natural to the imagination. :)
I have to know because I want to be emotionally prepared. Is this fic Esca/Marcus/Seal Prince paired or is it Esca/Marcus focused with some Seal Prince on the side? I'm not going to lie, I'm hoping for the former rather than the latter. You've set it up well that I could believe not only a sexual threesome between these three characters, but an emotional one as well. The loyalty that is growing between the three is very dramatic, but could give way to adoration and lust in my opinion. Please dear writer, end my misery by letting me know the truth. :)
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