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33rd of Ashan 718

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Alistair
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33rd of Ashan, Arc 718

"Come on, climb it," he commanded himself, making a small leap towards the side of the building as he grabbed onto the windowsill with his fingertips. Every time, though, they slid off just as quickly as they grabbed on... and he had to drop himself, letting his feet catch his body on the floor. At least, despite all of his failures, he could land on them.

"Come on, Alistair, you can do it -- you can do it," he repeated, over and again, jumping forward again, grabbing onto the sill and catching the side of the building with his feet, before curling his knees upward to allow himself to make a secondary jump from the side of the wall. He only needed to treat it like a platform, and aim his jump properly... facing the right trajectory, aimed to the next ledge, which just so happened to be the rooftop.

Alistair was a prolific acrobat - a grandmaster, some would call it... but he wasn't much of a climber. Watching Deovan scale trees with ease and crawl along the edges of branches like a Llewnos was ridiculous to him, but also admirable. He wanted to be like that, too. To master the physical body, and all of its nuances. But he was not a proper climber - not a good one, by any means.

Still, he tried. He finally managed to keep his fingers locked into the window sill by pressing them forward and clutching it with the strength of his arms. After doing so, the mage released and flung his arms backward, flipping off of the wall with his hands as he propelled himself into an upward jump with his legs. An acrobat's move, not a climber's, but he quickly learned that the two could go hand-in-hand. As he flung upward, he attempted to reach onto the edge of the roof with his palms, aiming his fingers down to grab the descending slope.

Unfortunately, he'd thrown himself too far back, and his arms could not lunge forward enough to reach. The mage quickly leveraged his weight and flipped his position mid-air, throwing his foot forward like a hook and catching the edge of the roof with his boot. Now, he hung from the roof corner, but rather impressively. At least in the realm of acrobatics, he was still top notch... that was a move that not many would've been able to pull off.

Alistair swung his weight back upward, holding steady onto his feet, a technique he'd mastered along with Gravelmonger. Once Alistair had swung himself back, even-leveled with the edge of the roof and partly mid-air, he twirled his body to look upward before flinging his chest forward like a sit-up. Digging his nails into the edge of the roof, he grabbed and held, despite the uncomfortable aerobic position that followed.

Gods, that had been dramatic... and all because of a single mis-aimed jump. He was only lucky that he'd managed to compensate for it, and proud that he was so good with his legs.

But of course, there was another man waiting right down below that still had to do all... that. Alistair winced at the thought, and instead decided to clutch his fist, opening a portal beside the other mage, the other side opening beside Alistair on the edge of the roof as he secured his balance and stepped into the center. Luckily, Ne'haer had a considerable amount of the indented square rooftops he'd seen in few other places, as they were good for amateur roof hopping and parkour.

The triangular ones, built for places that endured heavier snow, were much more difficult to climb... and irritating.
Last edited by Alistair on Sat May 12, 2018 11:01 pm, edited 1 time in total. word count: 629
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Jon could only...stare. Dear gods above he couldn't imagine making a leap like that in a thousand years let along swinging himself onto a rooftop just from his fingers clinging to the edge! He'd break his neck if he tried something like that. Aside from the magnificent view of his lover's back and shapely rear end, this might not have been worth the trip. "How the hell do you expect me to do that?" he called up, though his tone was light. It was a joke. It had to be. Alistair wanted to be a better person physically, and he'd taken Jon along but...well...honestly. That sort of leap was just insane. "Are you alright?" he called up to Alistair.

He eyed the portal that opened next to him. He wasn't going to take that gimme, he was going to actually try. Jon bit his lip, cracked his neck, and ran at the wall. He leapt....and didn't even get close to the windowsill. How did Alistair DO that? He ran and jumped again, his fingers managing to catch hold in the rock before he lost his grip and fell again. He glared at it. Well, two could play at that game, stone house. He walked toward the wall and put his hand against it, bleeding ether into the stones. They ground against one another, and choice handholds and footholds began to crumble away from the stone wall. Corrosion made them the perfect size for Jon's hands. All he had to do now was climb. He jumped again, and yanked himself up onto the first set of handholds and footholds. He clambered upward, slowly but surely, his arms and legs burning with the effort. He passed the windowsill, using it as a foothold to grab ahold of the roof.

That was where things got tricky. He had the roof in both hands but when he tried to pull himself up, his muscles refused to cooperate. He wasn't a weakling by any means but yanking himself upward a good foot and a half was a bit much. "Alistair...help." he grunted, managing to swing an elbow over onto the roof. His feet scrabbled for foothold and he caught the edge of the window frame. He kicked out from it, and that gave him the strength to haul himself upward onto the roof. Rather ungainly, really. He flopped his front half onto the roof like a fish and wiggled until he could get a proper foothold. He rolled onto the roof and laid there panting for a moment. A loud thump below him told him he'd dislodged part of the windowframe putting his weight on it. He winced. "Sorry!" he called breathlessly down.

Jon slowly sat up, ruffling his hair. "Why are we doing this?" he asked Alistair. "We're on the roof, what are we supposed to do? I suppose I could mend a few of these shitty tiles."
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Jonathan's acrobatic feat was actually pretty impressive, particularly because it involved next to no skill and rather a great deal of improvisation and desperation. Still, he managed, managing to grasp onto the edge of the rooftop without the stylish acrobatic jump that Alistair had demonstrated. He supposed one didn't need to try to do a diagonal jump mid-air, into a tight clutch that had to either be perfectly timed or treated for busted wrist veins.

Alistair simply shushed the man as he questioned the point of all this, playfully grinning as he stepped backwards and brought his arms out above his shoulders, as if he were unveiling something magnificent. And, in a way, he was. The rooftops of Ne'haer's suburbs could be seen from all over - rooftop to rooftop, a delightful and unseen view seen from above. There was a whole other world up here, one unseen by the common man. People below, their hustle and bustle... doves fluttering about, wooden pillars extending from the edges of buildings and the beautiful 'topiary' of bundles of leaves caught in the frames of windows and the nets that seemed to connect houses, markets and people alike.

It was enchanting, and attractive. And ultimately mischievous, which was of course the point. Alistair was indeed a fan of mischief - particularly considering how controlled he'd been throughout his upbringing. Free from nobility, he had to rake in some of the benefits... and one was playing pranks from rooftops, climbing cathedral walls, ringing city bells and flinging birds into the sky.

The man was a miscreant at heart.

As he began to speak to properly explain himself, however, an elderly woman burst the door open of the home they were standing on, her sandals clanking hard against the floor as she furiously wandered the surroundings of the home. "Marl!" she yelled, presumably for her husband.

"This here house is haunted, I've gotcha on it! I been seein' shadowy men flyin' up through the curtains; but look now! Ain't there no one. I'm tellin' ya we should move right on back to Cycres!"

Alistair snickered, so much so that she could've audibly noted it had she not been yelling so aggressively. This was too good.

"Hold on, let's do something funny," he said, giddy. The man opened a small vortex of a portal along her windowsill, throwing rocks through where they jolted out the other side, flying out from the direction of her window and clunking against the ground. The woman screeched in horror, feasting her eyes upon the portal before she fled.

"MARL!" she yelled. "This here house is evil!" she yelled, before returning to the door of that very 'evil' house and slamming it. Clearly she was not very intelligent if she sought refuge from the evil by entering it immediately afterwards.

Alistair was a terrible person, and he knew it. It would be tragic when and if Acadia came together, and he would no longer be able to horrify the locals with strange and peculiar acts of magic that they'd never before witnessed.

"Anyway. We're here to train our climbing, running and acrobatic capability. I'm rather swell at the latter as you've seen, but quite awful at the former two... and you're probably awful at all three," he said, raising his brows playfully. "So -- the goal is to make it to the rooftop right next to Ki'eiran's cathedral, and perhaps to climb that cathedral and ring the bells. Maybe," he said, rather weakly. He wasn't sure if he was quite at that level, yet, and didn't want to splatter against the ground.

"You in?"
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Okay, Jon could see his point. He stood up and went to stand next to Alistair, a small smile forming on his lips. "It's beautiful." he said quietly. He could see lichen and moss covering the rooftops from the rainfall, doves nesting and cooing to one another, the way the light struck the buildings. Ne'hae was a beautiful place and Jon clearly didn't give it enough credit. He liked the way the greenery was crawling over everything, giving plentiful handholds and footholds to anyone racing along the tops of the roofs. Oh dear gods, that was what Alistair wanted to do, wasn't it?

Jon grinned and clapped his hands over his mouth when he heard the woman yell. He must have alerted her by breaking the windowframe! Well, he was lucky he hadn't broken the window; that stuff was expensive nowadays. He giggled a bit, leaning over to watch the woman howl and protest at the house. He burst into laughter at the portal, and the gravel flinging. Ah, the poor thing, she didn't realize she was being toyed with. Jon grinned at Alistair, shaking his head. "Look at you, torturing old ladies." he joked. He knew Alistair didn't mean any harm and it was fun to mess with people like that. He liked seeing his lover's lighthearted side.

What he proposed made Jon's eyebrow quirk. "Hey. I'm not that bad at climbing." he protested. "I made it up here didn't I? She's going to wonder how handholds and footholds eroded into her stones overnight." That crack about being bad stung a little. "First one to the cathedral blows the other."

Jon launched into a run. Or, as best of a run as he could manage. His form was terrible, but he had the heart to make up for it. He leapt off the first rooftop, fell onto the other with all the grace of a newborn foal falling out of its mother, and clambered to his feet. He had to plan a path if he was going to beat Alistair; he'd never beat him on acrobatic skill alone, he had to be sneaky. He leapt again, this time managing to keep his footing even if he did feel his ankles protest at the harsh landing. Well, he'd have to refine himself a little. Tortoise and the hare, right? It wasn't about speed, it was about strategy. He could take the straight route but there was a road that cut in front of the church, which meant he'd need to climb down then up again. That wasn't the way. There was a shop that connected very close to the rear of the church, and that was his goal.

Jon took off running. He had to stop after the fourth roof, but he was determined. Stitches were building in his sides and he rested on his knees, panting.
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The Aberrant was absolutely ridiculous, and Alistair's head shook rapidly at the suggestion... but not before he started to sprint off into a crazy leap, barely stumbling onto the second rooftop, with Alistair surprised that he didn't twist his ankle or fracture the bones beneath his knee. The mage determined that he would take his own route, scanning the roofs of Ki'eiran and designating a path for himself. He counted nearly fifty buildings between here and the cathedral if he went Jon's route, and several less with a more direct approach hopping vertically towards the building.

The only thing was, there were wider gaps in-between... but as an acrobat, his ability to make long jumps was significant, he only needed to hone his ability to run into his leaps.

Alistair sprinted off in his own direction, hopping lightly onto the edge of the roof before throwing his legs forward into the air and flying forward, a long-distance jump managed with the acrobatic nuance of his feet alone. He didn't run into that jump but hop into it, which was quite possibly more safe given his expertise, and it worked out rather well. If anyone were looking up, they would see a hulk of a man practically ready to body slam onto the next rooftop, though he landed surely on his feet and continued, regaining his footing and trying to transition the force into a new sprint.

Traction was incredibly important for running speed, and jumping. The ability to control one's movements while moving quickly, steering and making alterations... was of absolute importance. There were droves of runners and acrobats who'd had their careers ousted or lives stolen by traction alone, not regaining balance or properly managing their proceeding movements. Alistair was a man and not an insect, so he needed to run and leap from the ground rather than skewer it, a great weakness.

Right now, though, he needed to perfect what running balance he had. Pure traction and proper anchoring into his movements was a way's off, but that started now.

Alistair sprinted forward into a high leap, throwing the strength of his legs into his proceeding jump, bounding onto the next rooftop with considerable momentum. That wasn't bad for a beginner's running jump - but only because he was particularly good with forward and upward mobility in general. As he landed, the man skidded onto the rooftop with his feet, attempting to anchor his movements and maintain his stability so that he could immediately follow into another jump. He cheated, balancing on the edges of his feet with his acrobatic proficiency, and flung himself off the roof with another jump, this time barely making it onto the next roof as his feet hit the floor to it - hard.

"Ugh," he grunted. Alistair's resistance to pain and discomfort was considerable, but he was fairly certain that he'd just sprained an ankle, at least minorly - but it could worsen with too much momentum and uncontrolled speed. "Fuck," he swore. His jumps from this point on would need to be more careful and cautious... which was frustrating, considering they were amidst a race.
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Shit, how did his lover manage to leap like that? Well, Jon could answer his own question, he'd been at the mercy of those powerful thighs before. He had several dozen more buildings to go and he was already losing. Shit. He leapt onto another roof, and caught his foot at the edge of his landing. It pitched him forward sharply but instead of simply breaking his nose, Jon bent his head toward his chest, and threw his shoulder into the fall. He rolled along his back, rotated with the force of it, and found himself on all fours. He was so stunned at his accidental roll he almost forgot about the race. But if he did it once he could do it again. He grinned to himself and scrambled to his feet, taking a deep breath and pushing more speed into his run. The stitches on his sides were starting to pull at his ribs but Jonathan was not losing this.

Wait a moment. He had an idea. If he waited until the last second to jump he'd get more length out of the jumps he was making. It was a little riskier but he'd get better distance from it. His next jump he waited, waited, until he felt his toes waggle over the edge of the roof. Then he launched into a jump, and repeated the trick of rolling into his dive instead of breaking his fall with his hands or knees. It worked. He kept his forward momentum and he could keep running with less energy than it took to stop and start.

He saw another roof ahead had a tiny wall surrounding the flat part of the roof. Not a whole lot but enough to make him wonder if it wasn't enough to break an ankle on. He had a cure for that. He charged toward it, using his running as a way to help propel his ether forward and erode the wall into something a little more managable to leap over. He made the jump with a triumphant yell and launched towards the next. His thighs were screaming and his lungs were hitching but he had to win. He was forced to stop the next roof over, panting madly and clutching his ribs with one hand. Gods it hurt. It hurt so badly. He coughed, yanking in breathfuls of fresh air. He really needed to get into shape if he wanted to beat Alistair. He looked over at his lover hopping rooftops and groaned. He had to keep moving.

Jon stumbled into the next jump, barely catching the edge of the roof. He was slowing down and it was getting harder to make the falls safely. The church was getting closer and closer, and he'd chosen a good route around the back of it.
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While Jon was behind him in progress, it was only marginal. Alistair had to utilize magic halfway through the competition similarly to Jonathan, in order to repair the sprained ankle he'd damaged whilst running. He utilized Corpsemolding, and more specifically Bonecraft, to mend and strengthen the ankle he'd leaped too hard onto, crafting layers of additional bone with the flow of his ether.

In fact, he did this to both of his ankles, empowering both ankles to stand proudly through even heavy falls. Apparently Necromancers could survive clifftop descents onto the ground if they landed on their feet due to Bonecraft, and so he'd strengthened his internal structure at least enough to safely trek rooftops despite his inferior capability in the art of run-jumping, hopping and playing parkour.

With his ankles repaired, his jumps became longer and more confident, and he followed the standard Jon had left him. Alistair ran forward and jumped at the very last moment, timing himself properly through the use of a mental rhythm he'd made in accordance to his view. Click. Jump. Click. Jump. He needed to properly gauge his own speed and the trajectory and height of each jump, but such a thing was more instinctual than mathematical, especially at the amateur stage he was currently at.

So, running jumps had been relatively well-learned, at least in regards to doing so from these very specific rooftops. Traction was then the next goal, and Alistair made it his intention to softly land and quickly rebound from each movement. He lunged forward into a sprint and threw himself forward yet again, landing on another roof. The mage then noted a wooden pillar laid as a connector between both rooftops, and balanced himself on the object as he continued to plunge forward with considerable tempo. He was making more of a gap in their speed, now, and he was considerably close to the cathedral.

Jon was doing well, though, and Alistair found that even glancing at him seemed to allow him to almost entirely catch up. Alistair's sole advantage had been his leg strength and his balance and precision with his feet, but Jonathan had grit and... wit, and though his endurance was lacking, he was certainly ready to throw himself into a heart attack if it meant winning.

The mage did him the honors of at least continuing along, swinging himself forward with another leap until... he landed in the center of what was a shambling roof covered by wooden boards, the immense weight of his powerful jump quite literally breaking through the boards and sending him tumbling to the mid-level of the home, dust and wooden remnants showering the home from above.

Alistair groaned, as three curious - if not equally frightened - adults stared at him, shocked and horrified equally. The mage quickly used splintering to shift through the wall, the stony material quite literally ceasing to exist for a short period of time as he crawled to the edge of the building and swung his way back up to the rooftop. At this point, Jon had fully caught up, if not surpassed him... and Alistair found himself actually flustered.

The mage did a back-spring off of the side of the building, re-materializing it as soon as he'd gotten hold of the edge of the upper tier of the building. From there, he rolled spherically onto the surface of the next roof, proud of his own off-collar acrobatics but not proud of the fact that he and Jon both stood only two buildings away from the cathedral. He continued on, sprinting, lunging, intersecting the other man as they would meet on the same roof overlooking the same tall building.

He didn't want to climb it. Still. But if they called the game off now, he would've been first by a few trills... and he didn't know if Jon wanted that.

"We'll probably die if we try to climb this," he reckoned. "So perhaps we shouldn't. This was satisfying whilst it lasted," he stated, nodding at his own words.
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Jonathan hauled himself forward. He'd learned how to fall, and how to roll out of it. But he had to gain some traction and keep himself moving forward. He watched Alistair balance himself on wood pillar and jump forward. A similar object was in Jonathan's path, a small stone pillar that rose up just a little higher from the roof. He was afraid of missing it but...fortune favored the bold. He leapt, missed, and seized the edge of it by his fingers. He swore, his feet grabbing purchase on the little ornamental bits sticking out from the pillar. With some effort he pulled himself up, leapt to the next roof, and rested for a moment. He was aching and it felt absolutely terrible, but there was another column ahead. He had to figure this out. He lunged forward, and this time his feet hit the pillar, his momentum propelled himself off of it again almost quicker than Jon could process. It looked like he'd made this simple little hop from roof to pillar to roof again.

He did notice that Alistair wasn't behind him. What? He thought the mage would be eons ahead of him if not already won...and then he saw the gap in the roof. The hole. Fear gripped his heart and adrenaline coursed through his veins. What a stupid idea! Alistair could be bleeding to death down there and he was continuing this race like some fucking moron! He had to get to that building. He had to. His lover was in danger and he'd never been more scared in his life. Luckily he needn't have worried. Alistair appeared on the next roof and Jon was determined to reach him. He continued on, leaping carefully though he was a bit sloppier due to exhaustion.

When he met Alistair on the same roof he grabbed him and breathlessly kissed him. "When I saw...that hole...in the roof." he panted. "I thought I'd lost...you." He threw his sweaty arms around Alistair's neck and nuzzled into his neck. He sighed, using the moment to catch his breath and look over his lover. There wasn't a scratch on him, and relief flooded him. He laughed and kissed him again. "You asshole, I thought you were hurt." he chuckled. "Falling through a roof like that." He patted the back of Alistair's head and let him go, looking at the Cathedral. It was huge. There was a short roof followed by the gigantic spire of the cathedral. He didn't know if he could climb that but he was going to be damned if he didn't try. He smirked at Alistair. "You're just trying not to lose." he teased, and launched onto the roof of the cathedral.

The little break had given him a second win, and Jonathan was nothing if not a risk taker. He leapt up and grabbed the first handhold, a little coronet of ornamental ivy that stuck out from the edges of the bell tower. He hauled himself up, and found himself nose-to-stone with a narrow ledge and the next handhold feet above his head. He frowned, and spread his hands along the wall. He used the same trick he had before, making little indentations in the stone that would not only help himself, but would help Alistair. However this time they were more artfully hid, so he didn't ruin the aesthetic of the building. He didn't want to vandalize, he just wanted to climb.
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It was cute that Jonathan expressed such concern for him, the mage kissing him back gently as he leaned in to show his passions. Alistair personally felt that there was no need to worry, but that was largely due to his own overconfidence in his abilities, an intrinsic part of his personality. Jon did not have to worry, he felt, because it was very rare that he put himself into any relative danger. Alistair was too cautious to be afraid for, and too durable to suffer genuine consequences in the face of misaction. At least, he believed as such, and so he waved the concerns away politely.

"You're cute," he told Jonathan, faintly smiling as he said so. Alistair's eyes seemed to avert quickly to the Cathedral, however, aware that the two still found themselves embroiled in a game. He didn't necessarily care who won, particularly considering he would've won some time ago if not for the bloody roof-boards, but alas... Jon didn't seem to feel the same way. Well, it was his game, after all. Though Alistair didn't know if learning parkour at a rushed pace was entirely safe.

As Jonathan primed himself to climb the much taller building, the mage preemptively attempted to stop him, proving his words about Alistair's desire not to lose wrong. "I surrender," he said, the moment Jon truly primed himself to climb the wall. He continued to do so anyway, as if to ignore him - truly intent on climbing that building.

"Jonathan, you shouldn't. There aren't enough things to hold onto, and a great many of them seem structurally unstable. Look at the indents of the tower - all aging brick, ready to slip out of the blueprint entirely," the mage referenced, pointing at the structural inadequacies of the cathedral. He could not only kill himself, but also potentially cause irreparable damage to the structure... which Alistair did not think was wise. He was, in fact, running a political campaign in this city - which is why he scampered out of that home before any of them could recognize him.

If Jonathan went around damaging places of worship, he might as well strike a stake through Alistair's political career.

Of course, he continued anyway, despite the danger. Aberrants truly were mad. So ambitious - perhaps too much. The mage, at this point, watched quietly to ensure that he could catch him when inevitably he fell. And, after attempting to shape and mold ledges to his will during his steady ascent, finally Jon plummeted down as a brick loosed the moment he clutched it and flew off of the edge of the building. Alistair immediately used a portal beneath him, a thundering clap resounding from the area as he used skystepping as a singular burst to blanket the man's fall.

Then, drawing him more softly into the portal, Alistair followed him to its destination by stepping through the same doorway he'd left near the stem of the cathedral tower.

When the two of them both arrived on the other side, they would find themselves outside of Kaelserad... unharmed.

"I win," the mage declared triumphantly. "You would've died if I didn't react so quickly, so... to the savior of your ass go the spoils," the Rupturer grinned playfully. "And, to be honest, I think you need some sort of calming reagent. In general. All the time."
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Jon was determined to win, even though in the back of his mind Alistair's warnings were becoming more and more clear. Acid from the rain had worn down the stone and made it dangerous to try and grab ahold of. Things were crumbling, the fate of any tall structure exposed to the wind and elements. Clearly no one had been up here in a long time and certainly no stonemason. He was worried; he didn't want to cause too much damage to the structure. It was a pretty thing and Jon hated destroying good stone or gemwork. It was in his blood as a native of Etzos and the son of jewelcrafters; he found life in the ugliest of stones. He pulled himself up to the next handhold...and watched it slowly slide out of its place among the rocks.

Jonathan scrabbled for another grip but he'd put too much weight into grabbing that handhold. He peeled off the structure, and fell. Somehow, he tumbled outward onto a grass lawn. It was extremely disorienting to fall downwards, then be spat out sideways. He blinked, and got up onto all fours. He'd just been...falling. He was sure he was going to crack his spine against the roof and fall to his death. But instead here he was, back home at the surgery with his lover. He grinned and flopped on his back, laughing. Gods, adrenaline was pumping through his veins so quickly it felt like ether. His body hummed with it! He snickered at Alistair's proclamation and sat up, looking at him with hair ruffled from the fall and a playful look in his eyes.

"Best out of three?" he joked, holding up the handhold he'd held onto out of instinct. The stone was worn and aged, and when he looked at it he could see how the grout had rotted out and caused it to slip. He tossed it up and caught it. It was a pretty thing in the right light; he'd torn off an nice little furl of ivory leaves carved meticulously in stone. He put it in his pocket. He wanted to keep that. As a momento.
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